Feeling wholly weak, celebrating Holy Week

You know, Christianity would be a great faith if it weren't for all these damn Christians.

Just kidding. Lots of ‘em are great. I'm a big fan of the humble, the middling, the mediocre Christians, the ones who know they're weak and unworthy but who are striving to improve. The ones who admit that some days they're better Christians than others, and that there are certain days they pray, "Lord, let this not be my Judgment Day, for I have been such an a-hole today and I cannot bear to face You. Tomorrow, I'll be better, Lord, I promise. Actually, to be on the safe side, give me at least a couple more days, please, if You’re really ready for me now, that is. Though I kind of hope You’re not yet, ‘cause I got tickets to ‘Rent’ this summer ... No, no, make that ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ ... heh."

I don't much care for the Christians who act like they have it all figured out, the ones who practice their faith as they do so much else in their lives -- to be noticed, to show off, to display their superiority complex for all. I don't like the ones who cherry pick passages from the Bible to rationalize their own prejudices and meanness, while somehow overlooking those that counsel love, humility and forgiveness and warn against pride and hypocrisy. Or the ones who want to rub their beliefs into the faces of others who believe differently, or not at all. The holier-than-thou crowd. Also, I don’t like the ones who park illegally at church, ‘cause, what the hell, man, it’s church; how do you think God feels about you parking that SUV in the fire lane at His house?

The Bible is quite explicit in condemning Christians of this ilk – well, maybe not the illegal parkers, though that might be covered in Leviticus somewhere. But the others, for sure. I'd cite the actual passages, but, like I said, I'm a pretty mediocre Christian, so I don't recall where they are. But I know they're there, many times. One of them has something to do with specks and planks in eyes, if memory serves. There’s another one I like about how the meek are gonna rule some day and, man, am I ready for that. I picture that moment as a Jerry Bruckheimer movie, when the meek suddenly throw their glasses and pocket protectors aside and kick some serious ass, but I suspect I’m misinterpreting the tone of that message.

I like the part of Christianity about admitting my brokenness, my emptiness, my imperfection; in fact, not just admitting them, but embracing them. I like the part about forgiving and being forgiven. I'm a big fan of love. I like the part once a month or so when there are donuts and coffee after services, and if you have some change or a bill in your pocket, there's a basket where can kick in a little, but if you don't, you still can have donuts and coffee, and nobody's gonna give you the stinkeye.

Truth be told, I often get angry at my Church. The horrible weaknesses and crimes of its servants have been documented exhaustively for years, and I have thought of bailing a time or two -- on the Church, mind you, not my faith. There is a difference. And sometimes I’m mad at the priest, or the guy in front of me who lets his kids treat the pew like playground equipment, or the choir member who blows that high note every time, or the guy ahead of me in line in the basement after Mass who takes not just the last chocolate donut, but the last TWO.

Some weeks I leave Mass and realize I’ve been angry for the last hour, or fidgety, or just not quite there. So, yeah, I’m one of those middling, struggling Christians -- petty and small, impatient and selfish, caught up in the trivial, the insignificant, and so on. It is this week -- Holy Week -- that I try to reflect and resolve to do better.

Above all, I worry that am too cynical, jaded and sarcastic. Indeed, I fear that when my Judgment Day comes and I face God, He will look me up and down and ask, sadly, “Why such a smartass, my son?”

To which I shall respond: “But my Lord, at least I never parked in Your fire lane.”