Norman C. Habel

I don’t have quite the denominational loyalty of Norm; I’ve tried several different churches in the last few years (a couple even in the last few weeks)—I’ve settled on the Quakers for now, although since the Episcopalians were so polite (yet not defeated or whatever) when I said that I wanted to leave, and because they said they needed help for a Holy Week event this week, I’ll be back for that thing and possibly other holidays. (Quakers aren’t really holiday-y, although on the other hand, that can be a good thing!). I’ve certainly changed a lot from my father’s faith (evangelicalism) and both my parents have changed from their cradle faith (Catholicism). Norm, on the other hand, was born a Lutheran, and has stayed loyal to that community, despite the changes in the world and in himself that have led to him redefining what Lutheranism means in his life, and despite people getting resentful and trying to stigmatize him and throw him out. They’re good at throwing people out of church, these heresy-hunters! They’ve gotten so good, that churches are getting emptier!…. I don’t like that word ‘heretic’ applied to other people, you know. ‘Sin’ I can live with. Even most conservative Christians will pay lip service to the idea that they’re sinners (especially if no one will actually hold them accountable and make them do something to make it right, you know). But you have to be a real radical to name yourself a heretic—conservatives won’t do it (because then they’d have to grab themselves by their own neck with one hand and drag themselves out behind the shed and shoot themselves, because that’s what you do with a heretic!). And even though the opposite of a heretic is someone with perfect knowledge of stuff like the Trinity or the problem of evil that even angels probably sit around trying to deepen their knowledge on—it’s like you’re a heretic, you’re Bad Other. Not loyal to your nation or ethnicity, basically. Like you’re willfully bad and unforgivable, because you didn’t allow yourself to give into intimidation when you weren’t swayed by the other argument.

“Why on earth are you still a Lutheran” after all that? I’ve never been a Lutheran and I’ve changed churches several times; maybe someday I won’t live close enough to Shrewsbury to remain in the Quaker fold, you know. But you’re a Christian, people ask you, Why on earth are you still a Christian? because it doesn’t seem fun, the things that Christians consider fun (theology, silence, giving, moderation…. Lots of fun!), and in return your fellow Christians treat you like sacred cow poop half the time, so why on earth would I want in on that? Why not just leave, and try to cause a ruckus on the way out?

Why am I still a Christian? Jesus, I guess, and faith and love and infinity and all the rest of it, not that I can define what that means. I guess I don’t fully know, just as we don’t fully know all the “right answers”, even if we’ve been coached on the words.

But Norm actually seemed really firm in his answers; I mean, it was certainly a brief book, but he was like, basically, Because it’s great! you know. I guess—I read this book awhile ago—at first I didn’t want to review and fully see this story of someone being wounded by his church, but by the end you see his faith overcame his doubt, in a way that’s quite orthodox for a ‘heretic’, you know.… (altro)