This information is important because I come from a Catholic family wherein all members were expected to vote straight-ticket Democrat and labor unions were held in the same high-esteem as the Virgin Mary.

You can imagine the conflict that arises when we all gather around the holiday dinner table.

Although my extended family was religious, I was never required to attend mass by my parents, nor did they ever attend. I was allowed to do my own thing — to find my own path and construct my own beliefs — something my mother now admittedly regrets.

I think that with the unexpected death of my grandmother in 2000, my mother looked for solace and comfort and somehow she found it in the beliefs of Christianity. About a year ago my mother revealed to me that she and my step-father had been attending church for the past couple years. She was afraid to tell me.

We moved to Greater Lafayette in 1991, after my step-dad’s steel worker’s union had gone on strike for the umpteenth time and my parents realized they needed more than a high school education. My mom minored in Women’s Studies at the university and brought home the most amazing books and knowledge that she shared with me and my friends.

Over the course of several years, I witnessed my mother reach feminist consciousness: working through the almost-inevitable period of misandry — wherein she realized the oppression of sexism and grew angry at the world and men in particular– working through her own feelings of hurt and regret, to reach a place where she understood the workings of our culture and society and wanted to make change. She started with me and my friends, telling us to educate ourselves and to stand up for what we believe and against injustice.

I witnessed also the transition of her religious beliefs, from a background in Catholic school indoctrination to a discovery of ancient goddess-centered religions to one of almost non-belief.

In the 90s she worked on the Clinton campaign and she went with me to the polls the first year I was able to vote and joked with me about how her Democatic vote would cancel-out my step-father’s Republican vote.

Something changed, and I don’t know if it all has to do with my grandmother’s death or with my mother’s rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis or with the fact that she is getting older and knows it, feels it. I’m sure it’s everything combined and then some.

I haven’t been able to have a political discussion with my mother in years. I realized my lack of religious faith at an early age, so the fact that we have different views on religion is something we’ve been able to work with — we either avoid the topic or make polite small-chat. But politics? Next to my grandmother she’s one of the main people responsible for my politics.

My step-father is an entirely different story. He was born in Valparaiso, IN, and was raised in Gary for the majority of his life. His father was a racist and he accepted the bigotry that he continues to carry with him. It was my step-father who introduced me to racist thought and language. It is because of this exposure that I learned a deep sense of justice and the need for anti-racist activism, from White folks especially. He and I would argue and argue over the rights (in his mind) and the wrongs (in my mind) of racism, to the point where my mother would have to step in and eventually told him not to use the n-word in my presence. His racism, I have learned, has come to influence my mother’s beliefs.

In Michigan, we touched lightly on topics such as religious faith, race, and other politics. We knew when to switch topics.

The campground we stayed in was comprised entirely of White people. The towns we visited were comprised entirely of White people. Once, when we were on the boat and out near Lake Michigan, out by the pier, we saw a family walking together out towards the end of the pier. My step-father saw the color of their skin and said, “I knew it had to be muddy somewhere.”

At the campground, while we were sitting at the table outside waiting for our food to cook, my mother and I were talking about children and parents. One of her friends had said her husband was worried about their son, who is about 7 and is fond of cooking and baking. The husband is worried that too much exposure to such “feminine work” will make him gay. I asked my mother what she said. She said not to worry about it, “unless he’s 11 and still wants to wear an apron. Then, he needs to be re-directed.”

My parents believe that being gay is all a matter of conditioning, that children can be swayed one way or the other — as if our sexualities were absolute dichotomies, just as our skin is either White or Not.

It greatly disturbs me to hear these things from my parents, to feel that everything I say to them is a waste and that they hold no weight to my thoughts.

My mother tells me that when I get older, I “will realize”. I will find Jesus, find God, find absolute heterosexuality, enter marriage, have heterosexual God-fearing children. I will Realize.

As I’ve gotten older, the only thing I’ve realized is my parent’s fear and hatred and that I will never be like they want me to be or they like I want them to be.

[via StupidEvilBastard]

A gay pride march through central Bucharest turned into a riot on Saturday with police resorting to tear gas to gain control of more than a thousand protestors bent on disrupting the parade. …

Several hundred gays set out on the pride march but they were badly outnumbered by protestors – many of them from the Romanian Orthodox Church. …

Nuns and priests were among the crowd that lined the streets hurling eggs and bottles at the gay marchers as they passed by. …

As the situation grew worse tear gas canisters were hurled into the crowd of protesters to disperse them.
[(http://www.365gay.com/Newscon06/06/060406romania.htm) Source]

Nuns and priests? What the fuck?

Jesus hates you, this I know,
For the Bible tells me so.

EDITED 07-24-08: News link expired.

Moscow’s first ever gay pride parade on Saturday May 27th was marred by rampant homophobic violence. …

Moscow Mayor Yuri Luzhkov was unapologetically frank when he explained why he banned the parade. Such events “may be acceptable for some, in some sense, progressive countries in the West, but not for Russia”. …

Observers of the events which unfolded last Saturday, claim the police stood by as thugs attacked gay activists.

[Gay.com]

The “thugs” were mostly White-supremacist skinheads and Orthodox Christians. In Russia, homosexuality was illegal until 1993 and although it is now decriminalized, queers, particularly in Moscow, are still targets for street gangs and self-righteous fucks who take it upon themselves to beat and/or murder queers, crimes which are often brushed off as hooliganism or chalked up to nationalism.

No one is free when others are oppressed.

The Partner and I heard about the “production”, Final Exit, through a friend the night before. He had seen an ad in the campus newspaper for it and checked out their website. “I’m not sure exactly what it is, but the site had religious undertones.” We searched the Internet for more information and found (http://www.jconline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20051019/OPINION02/510190306/1100/OPINION) a letter to the editor in the local paper:

During the weekend, I chose to visit the new attraction, “Final Exit,” with some friends, thinking this was going to be a haunted house type walk-through, not a direct attack on one’s religion.

For those who don’t know about it, it follows one teenager as she struggles with pregnancy, drunken driving, an abusive family, abortion, suicide, school shooting and Harry Potter.

That sealed the deal.

“Final Exit: Extreme Reality” is produced by a Louisiana-based corporation, (http://missionarytracker.com/content/missionaryDetail.aspx?missionaryID=c2fe8ee6-9ec2-4e5f-9964-9652b9a35166)* Radical Reality Productions, Inc. They get churches to host the production, an attempt to “harvest” the “unchurched” and is “all about souls”. We were mighty lucky to get them all the way up here at “Perdue University” .

The flash introduction to their website says:

You’ve been to haunted houses… but you’ve never been… to HELL. Hell is here… and it’s brutal… experience it… for yourself… if you dare.

The only other information you’re given is the following:

Final Exit… a 40 minute, brutal, in your face, extreme, multi-dimensional, 11 scene, reality tour… with over 100 live actors, high-tech visuals and special effects that will assualt your senses and captivate you! Think you can “Survive It?” I dare you to try!

You can expand this entry to read my scene-by-scene summary of our experiences (warning: there were many scenes and thus my summary is a bit lengthy).

So Saturday after dinner we drove out to the given address, a location neither The Partner nor I had been to, just to check out the scene and see how long the line would be. We knew we were getting close when we saw the spotlight, plus the van in front of us we were following had a “God Bless the Troops” magnetic ribbon and “Choose Life” bumper sticker.

Although the wait was about an hour, we bought our $9 tickets, signed our fake names, and generally caused a ruckus while waiting roughly 45 minutes to get checked for weapons and other such items. Walking the grounds were men in SECURITY shirts, talking to each other over headsets. That got us even more excited because if they needed at least 10 security men to patrol the area, what type of crazy shit were we in for?

We were not allowed to bring cameras, lighters, matches, or weapons (they didn’t say anything about paper and pens). Gals were checked by another gal and the guys were checked by this massive guy with a large cross around his neck. They had a hand-held metal detector and the women at the table checked bags and purses. When I told the woman who grabbed at my bag, “No, I’ll hold my bag for now”, she got this strange look on her face like no one had said that to her before.

Although the metal detector went off (?), the gal looked at me and said, “You’re okay, I trust you”, and moved me through. I watched as the woman rummaged around in my bag, pausing to examine my cigarette case with the “Wal-Mart Discriminates — Always” sticker, looked at me, and said “You’re fine.”

In a group of about 40, we waited a few more minutes before a security man walked over to us.

“I need to know if any of you are pregnant, weak of heart, or sensitive to strobe lights. No? Okay, here’s what I need for you all to do: You’ll be escorted inside to the first room. We ask that you don’t touch the escorts and assure you that they won’t touch you. In each room I need for you to get as close to the yellow tape as possible. Does anyone have any physical problems kneeling down? I need for the people in front to kneel down so that the others can see. Make sure to get close to the yellow tape. When you get inside the first room you’ll see a beam of light. I need for you all to encircle the beam of light, as close as you can, just huddle around the beam of light. Alright! Let’s go!”

We were escorted into the building and waited maybe a minute before being lead into a room. Sure enough, the room was dark and a beam of light was coming from the ceiling. Everybody squeezed in around it, the door was closed, and we stood there and waited. Then the beam of light went off and some spooky midi-sounding music started. Lights were flashing and a voice came over the speakers. I can’t remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of “You’re about to enter Hell on earth. The choices we make can come back to get us in the end.” Then someone screamed “Turn around! Turn around!”

The lights went off and flashed back on, and in front of us were several actors in black robes with dark faces.

“Choices,” they whispered along with the recorded voice. “Choices.”

Then a door opened and we were screamed at by the ghouls in robes, “Move it! Get out of here! Faster! MOVE!”

We walked into a party scene. Teenagers were sitting around on couches, talking loudly, listening to Marilyn Manson, eating junk food, drinking beer and smoking weed. The main character, Kim, was arguing with her belligerently drunk boyfriend. Then she said, “Mark, I need to tell you something. I took a test today and I’m pregnant.”

“What?! That’s not possible. That’s a lie! It’s not mine!” Then the boyfriend stormed around the scene, throwing beer cans at the wall. Kim got up to leave and the boyfriend got physical, pushing other characters and throwing Kim onto the couch.

Then a knock came at the door. “Mark, it’s me, Sarah.”

“Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!”

Another fight ensues between Kim and Mark, something about cheating, and Mark yells a few more times to Sarah’s voice behind the door. Sarah says that if Mark would just tell her he doesn’t love her she would go away, so Mark yells, “I hate you! Leave me alone!” — and then a gun goes off.

Mark opens the door and Sarah falls to the floor, a blood splatter dripping down the door. All characters scream in horror and the scene ends, with Sarah lying on the floor, fake blood oozing from her gaping mouth.

A ghoul steps out of the shadows and proceeds to lecture/preach at us for a couple minutes. He walks around the scene, picking up beer cans, warning us about “these dangerous” effects of alcohol, drugs, and premarrital sex. He walked over to Sarah’s body, plays with the fake blood and licks his fingers. Some condoms are on the coffee table and he picks one up, holding it in front of the shocked audience.

“You thought you were protected. They tell you you’re protected. HA! These are the choices you make. Now get out of my house! MOVE IT!” More ghouls appeared and screamed at us again.

The next scene was a living room and Mom and Dad were having a fight in front of their teenage son and two young daughters. On the teevee was some NASCAR footage, Dad was in his lounger drinking beer and Mom was yelling at him for being a lazy good-for-nothin’. They stood up and started pushing each other, Mom grabbing some lottery tickets and throwing them in Dad’s face, all the while screaming at each other about Internet porn or something.

“All you do is gamble and throw our money away!”

“Shut up, woman – you nag! Didn’t I tell you to get me another beer?!”

In walks Kim, who is stoned and drowsy. Dad says, “Hey good lookin’, I’m glad you’re home.” He approaches her and touches her hair. Kim pushes by and sits on the couch.

“What’s that all about?” Asks Mom.

“You know what it’s about! You know all about it and you don’t do anything!” Screams Kim.

They argue a bit more and the brother tries to stop them. He gets frustrated, throws the Harry Potter book he was reading on the table and stands up.

“I can’t take this anymore! Look at what you’re doing in from of them [pointing to the little girls]!” He makes for the door but Dad stands up and pushed him against the wall. They yell at each other and Mom gets up, pulling on Dad. They scuffle around and Mom grabs a bat and is about to whack the shit out of Dad when the scene ends and the actors freeze.

A ghoul steps forward and preaches at us about domestic violence.

“Look at this scene. This happens in families across the nation. Violence in movies and on teevee – this is what you get. Harry Potter is a best-seller, raking in millions of dollars. We even allow this to be taught in our public schools! You’ve got the nagging wife and the drunken father. These are the choices you make.” And the other ghouls whisper “CHOICES” into our ears. “Now get out of my house!” Yells the main ghoul, and we all go to the next room.

We’re now in a hallway of a high school. The brother of the family is standing in the middle, arguing with his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. They break up and recorded voices come on as random students pick on him and taunt him. “You’re such a loser!” “You’re weird!” “Eeew! Get away from me!” A teacher walks up and pushes a paper with a big F written on it against his chest. “You’re such a disappointment.”

The brother starts talking to himself, trying to figure out what to do. The recorded voice switches and whispers, “Do it. Do it.”

He pulls out a gun, says, “I know what I can do,” and shoots everybody in the hallway, shoots himself, and the scene ends.

The ghoul steps up and says, “School shootings! Little Jimmy made the choice to deal with his problems through murder! All because of an unhappy home life, failing grades, and relationship troubles. [The ghoul grabs his ex's binder.] Upset over Jessica experimenting with an alternative lifestyle. [The binder had the girlfriend's name *hearts* Jimmy, but Jimmy was crossed out.] And we tell people they’re born that way! It’s all about CHOICES. But Kim has a “doctor’s appointment” [the actor actually made the quotation marks hand gestures] tomorrow morning at 10 o’clock, so get out of my hallway! GET OUT OF HERE!”

As soon as we enter the next room you can tell this is the abortion scene. We all huddle around the glass windows with drawn curtains and wait.

The curtains are pulled back and there is Kim, spread eagle on an operating table, feet in stirrups. A doctor is between her legs and there are two nurses on either side.

“Will it hurt?” Kim asks.

“Be quiet and wait for the doctor!” Yells a nurse.

“Tell me if it will hurt! I don’t want it to hurt! Wait! Stop! I don’t want to do this!”

“Shut up! You’ve made your choice, now shut up!” Yells the other nurse and they restrain Kim. “We’re ready when you are, doctor.”

The doctor squeezes some liquid out of a huge needle and pretends to inject Kim. She screams. Audience members jump. He grabs some knives and gets to work, all the while Kim is screaming her head off and trying to get free from the nurses who are holding her down.

The doctor throws some bloody slop that looks like bacon and a doll’s head into a pan and throws the pain onto a table in front of the windows. The audience moves in. The scene darkens.

A beam of light shines down onto the “fetus” and a recorded child’s voice plays.

“Mommy? Mommy, it hurts. Why’d you do it, Mommy?”

Kim screams and apologizes profusely. Black lights turn on and painted on the walls are several words including “Murderer” and “Baby Killer”.

“Mommy? Don’t you love me? Mommy? Why’d you kill me, Mommy?”

The scene ends with Kim screaming. The ghoul preaches at us about allowing the murder “of innocents”, “with the government’s approval”. “Get out of my clinic!”

The next scene is a two-car accident. At least 40 beer cans are strewn about the ground, and teens are hanging out of the broken windows or crumpled up on the ground. A gal wakes up and stumbles around the scene.

“Oh my God! What did we do?! This can’t be happening! Oh my God!” She collapses against a body and the scene ends.

The ghoul preaches about teen parties, alcohol, drunk driving, and “the choices we make”.

“Think of this scene the next time you think about getting in the car with someone who’s been drinking! Now get off of my highway!”

In the next room, Kim is sitting on her bed listening to Nine Inch Nails’ “Something I Can Never Have” from Pretty Hate Machine — one of my favorite albums (and song) from my own teen years, by the way. She’s crying and starts to pace the room.

“I’m so ugly! Nobody like me! I’m so horrible!”

A baby’s voice comes over the speakers, “Mommy? Where are you, Mommy?”

“I’m here! I’m sorry I killed you! I’m so sorry! I hate myself!”

Kim pulls a gun from under the mattress and contemplates killing herself. The ghoul eggs her on: “Just do it. ‘Make it all go away’, Kim. Do it. You’re such a good Mommy – you loved your baby TO DEATH. Do it!”

Kim puts the gun under her chin and pulls the trigger, her body flying back onto the bed. The scene ends.

The ghoul tells us a statistic: “Every day, 720 people commit suicide,” and goes on about the choices we make coming back to haunt us and asks us what our “final judgement day” will be like.

“Life is about choices! We all make choices! What choices have you made? How will those choices affect you? Go see for yourself! Get out of my room!”

We were then ushered into a room with a row of upright coffins. The ghouls pushed us all in, four to a box. I’m extremely glad The Partner was behind me, because once they shut the doors we were crammed in and pushed against each other. A voice came over the speakers and said we were headed for death, to our “final appointment”. We were told we were going to hell “because of the personal choices” we made. “Is this a price you’re willing to pay for your choices?”

The gal in front of me was crying and praying to Jesus. The young (12-13?) boy behind The Partner said, “Man, if they open this door I’m going to fall out!” He was freaked the fuck out. Just then the rear door opened and we all poured out into a dark room: Hell.

Actors were on either side of us, screaming and yelling for help. The Devil appeared and yelled at us about the “choices” we made, “his choices”. Then a door opened behind him and he vanished as we were blinded by a bright white light. We were ushered into the light, which was indeed extremely blinding. An actor said to me, “What are you smiling about? Don’t smile!”

There in the middle of the room was a bloody Jesus hanging on the cross, a la “Passion of the Christ”. An actor crawled in from Hell and pointed to Jesus. “I’m in Hell because I rejected Him! I rejected Him!”

A gal stood in front of us with a Bible in her hands and proceeded to preach at us for at least 10 minutes.

“This whole thing is about CHOICES. Jesus died for my sins and for your sins. We are all guilty. This is all about choices. God made a choice to sacrifice His only son. Jesus made a choice. You can be saved if you surrender yourself to Him. Thousands and thousands of innocent children die because of our choices. Our sins killed Jesus. But unlike Buddha, Ganesh, or others, Jesus is ALIVE and He can save you. It takes real guts to surrender to God, but He’ll accept you just as your are.”

I looked around the room, one man was frequently nodding his head in agreement, two gals were crying.

She read a passage from the Bible and told us the Bible is an “instruction book” we can use to “live our life the way Jesus lived His” and be saved.

After what seemed like FOREVER, we moved to the next room, Heaven. Angels young and old welcomed us, God-blessed us, and showed us to the exit.

But it wasn’t the exit! It wasn’t over!

They had tables set up and people were sitting one-on-one, most praying.

I took a seat with an older woman who informed me they would appreciate it if I answered a questionnaire about my experiences. My head was still reeling with echoes of “CHOICES”, but I agreed to participate.

She asked for my name and age and then got to the questions: How did I hear about this? What were my feelings about this experience?

I told her I thought the production was horrible. She said, “Oh yes, those scenes are horrible, aren’t they?” She thought that by horrible I meant “horrific scenes of brutal reality” but I had actually meant “terrible pieces of Christian propaganda bullshit”.

I clarified myself (sans “bullshit”) and she blinked at me.

“Next question: Which scene was most moving?”

“Geeze. They were all pretty bad, but I’ll go with the abortion scene.” She circled ‘abortion’ on the list.

“Why?”

“Because of the overt Christian propaganda and extreme mis-information they literally spewed at us. That was not an accurate portrayal of a pregnancy termination by any stretch of the imagination – unless we went back in time.”

“What do you mean, ‘mis-information’?” She raised her eyebrow at me. I raised mine.

“Abortion was legalized in 1973. In 2005, we, as women, are able to seek out professional medical establishments and clinics. Pregnancy termination, in all of its stages, is regulated. We were never told the scene was portraying some underground scam. Doctors and nurses are caring individuals who have the woman’s emotions in mind and take care to treat her with respect and kindness, not screaming at her — and especially never physically forcing a woman to follow through with the procedure if she decides not to at the last minute. Plus, they would never throw bloody tissue around the room. And, they supply women with appropriate pain medications – the over-the-top screaming as if from pain of the character was way out of line and extremely dramatic.”

“You don’t think it’s painful?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve terminated a pregnancy and I know many other women who have as well. What we witnessed in that scene was a gross exaggeration and you’re guilty of spreading misinformation.”

She started to lose her cool. “How did you feel about your abortion experience?”

“Fine.”

Her eyes went wide. “FUN?”

“No, I said FINE. The experience was FINE. It was the right CHOICE for me.”

“You didn’t think it was horrible?”

“What? The only thing that was horrible was having to cross a pro-life protest line. They were all men – MEN – holding signs with their distorted images of so-called fetuses. THAT was horrible. How do you feel about MEN picketing women’s clinics?”

“Let’s move on. Next question: Do you think you are guilty of commiting sins?”

“I don’t believe in the notion of ‘sinning’, so no.”

“But we’re all guilty of sin. We all sin.”

“That’s not my belief structure.”

“Well, would you like to accept Jesus as your savior? We can pray together for your forgiveness.”

“That’s not something I’d be interested in.”

“Oh. Okay then. Let me show you to the door.”

We got up and she escorted me out of the room. I passed one of our friends, a Lutheran, who was praying with his questioner. The Partner had gotten himself into a philosophical debate with his questioner, and he said that when my lady got back to the table she interrupted their discussion, explaining away The Partner’s argument with “That’s Satan’s work. This conversation is over.”

Having been escorted out of the room, and not having surrendered myself over to Jesus, I waited in the lobby for everyone to finish. One of our friends had been given a copy of The Bible and some other literature. One was an ad for the building we were in, which we learned was the White Horse Christian Center. They had covered their outside sign with a “Final Exit” sign, so we didn’t have any clue what building we were in the entire time.

In the lobby they had a gift shop selling “Final Exit” shirts, hats, DVDs, and, of course, crosses and Bibles. Between the $20 shirts and $9 ticket fee (not to mention the high-priced concession stand outside), I bet this “harvest” was mighty plentiful.

There are so many issues involved in this experience, namely the misinformation we were given during each scene’s preaching, sexism (“nagging wife” but merely a “drunken father”? What about the alluded-to incest and rape? What about the violence against women? The unquestioned family patriarch?), and homophobia.

Oh wait. That’s just their version of Christianity.

EDITED 07-24-08: Link to Journal and Courier article expired.

* EDITED 07-24-08: Company info link expired.

The Partner and I spent yesterday with my parents and some members of my extended family who came into town for Easter. We weren’t all that keen about the celebration, seeing as how it’s a religious deal first and foremost, but there would be good conversation and a chance to see family we don’t often see. We were definitely not expecting the impromptu speech given by my step-father before we ate.

We were learned on the reason for the holiday: not to get candy and eat eggs but because “Jesus was brutally murdered for us–for our sins–and we praise his sacrifice on this day…” and a bunch of other God-speak that I tuned-out on. Then a waifer was passed around the table, glasses were filled, and the family ate and drank some Jesus. Symbolically, of course. Myself and The Partner excluded, of course.

I found it all amusing, especially because this amount of religiosity has never before been espoused by any member of my family. Indeed, as he was talking I was looking at the faces of my family gathered around the table. Uneasy shifting, looks of shock, and readiness to begin eating abounded. Giggles stirred from one of my aunts and my own chuckling was hardly well-contained.

I’m not sure what to make of my parent’s newly-found religious kookiness er, devotion, yet, but it’s some great material for my sociology courses.

I stepped out of the house yesterday and as I was walking around the corner, I saw the bus driving away. It was about five minutes early and as we were having a quiz first-thing in class, I was not able to walk to campus in time. I drove my car and was only able to find metered parking.

Unfortunately, I did not make it out in time to put more money in the meter. When this happens, you get a parking ticket:

Luckily, this did not dampen my day. I just had to wait for the rest of my classes to that for me. I love school!

In my Sociology of Religions in Amerika class later that morning, we had a guest speaker talk to us about her religion, Baha’i. She gave us business cards proclaiming: “ONE Loving Creator ONE Unfolding Religion ONE Human Family: The Baha’i Faith”. On the back it states:

Baha’is are dedicated to:
Adoration of One God and the Reconciliation of all Major Religions;
Appreciation of the Diversity and Nobility of the Human Family and the Elimination of All Prejudice;
Establishment of World Peace, Equality of Women and Men, and Universal Education;
Cooperation between Science and Religion and the Individuals’ Search for Truth;
Spreading Hope, Joy, and a Positive Vision of Humanity’s Future.

The best quotes I took from our speaker are: “Religious instruction is progressive…”, “Religion without science is just superstition…”, and “We believe in evolution, but evolution due to a Creator”.

But the best is a snippet from their website. One principle is the “… recognition that true religion is in harmony with reason and the pursuit of scientific knowledge”.

I am all about diversity, eliminating prejudice, attaining equality between the sexes*, and quality education for all who want it; however, I do not believe we need a god in order to reach these lofty goals. I also see the goal of having everybody believe in only ONE god/faith as next to impossible. In addition, when she mentioned their hope of ONE universal language (that being English, of course) I knew it was time to tune out.

Religion mixing with reason and science, indeed!

* It is rare to find such equality-driven monotheistic religions who are willing to proclaim, quoted from the founder nonetheless: “Women and men have been and will always be equal in the sight of God,” said Bahá’u'lláh. Read more of what they proclaim.