Religion

A month or so ago, I landed in the hospital again. This time, thank God, it was a short stay and the pain level was far less severe. Nonetheless, the various procedures were scary. Old tapes played relentlessly in my head despite every effort I took to dismiss them. Unbidden tears coursed down my face when I heard the words IV, PICC line, CAT scan. Old, bad, experiences were conjured up. I was not a happy camper.

During the past few years, I have been asked when I’m going to write another book. Hard on the heels of that question came an unsolicited request. When you do, include your newspaper columns. Years ago, I was told I should write a book about the importance of leaving a legacy for future generations. As a friend of mine is wont to say, “I listened...and took it all seriously.”

Recently, I attended the installation of the Rev. Rudra Ramphal as senior pastor of Brunswick Islands Baptist Church. It was a double pleasure, since Rudy was one of my students when I taught at Brunswick Community College. He was an outstanding student, a young man whose interest and enthusiasm made teaching a joy. I have been following his career ever since, so I could not miss this climatic moment in his faith journey.

The Lenten season has ended. Christians are in the throes of Easter bliss. Resurrection is the name of the game. It calls us to a new awareness of life and love experienced as church.
I’ve been pondering those words for a long time. What does it mean to call myself a religious person, a Christian? What does it mean to gather as church? Is it a Sunday-only party celebrated with those who share a common understanding of God? Is it an exclusive club whose membership is limited to those who follow the rules and regulations, who proclaim a specific doctrine or dogma?