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When I grew up in the 1960s, I was deeply moved by the entire ritual and experience of the black church. My father was basically a deist and I don't recall him ever being in church except for weddings and funerals. My older sister intensely disliked church and became an agnostic. So church was an experience my mother and I shared. We went to a big Baptist church in our community, or when she was too tired or busy to go Sunday morning, we would listen together to a gospel hour type church service, broadcast Sunday nights from Harlem.
I went to bible camp in rural Pennsylvania during the summer. The camp was multi-racial at a time when almost everything in life was segregated, and the white people who ran it were militantly well meaning and color blind. This was a time when Christian evangicals were more likely to see their views reflected in the preaching of Martin Luther King than Jerry Falwell or Pat Robertson.
Our female counselors were mostly high minded, upper middle class white girls from the Philadelphia Main Line who seemed to believe that they were in the peace corp coming out to western Pennsylvania to take care of a mix of New York City black kids and suburban New Jersey white kids. They taught us to sit around the camp fire and sing "Kumbaya, My Lord, Kumbaya" or "Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore, Hallelujia" or "If I had a Hammer". It was so stereotypically well meaning 1960s.
Our male counselor, thank goodness, were dissolute western Pennsylvania farm boys -- Pennslyvania Dutch and Amish gone bad at a young age, who taught us how to smoke cigarettes behind the dorm buildings, and how to terrorize each other with bull whips.
At night, we heard stories from missionaries who were bringing the gospel, as well as shoes, toothpaste, and English to South Koreans, Africans and Amazon Indians. We all wanted the adventure and all consuming commitment of the missionary life.
What I took from my immersion in evangical Christianity was that this religion has the power to make people try to be fundamentally decent. Evangicals took the basic message of Jesus very seriously: the purpose of life was to love your neighbor, feed the poor and heal the sick.
I see the evangicals of today embracing war, abandonment of the poor to God-directed fate, meddling in the private sex and reproductive lives of their neighbors and an overall self-righteous disdain for others. On the other hand, from time to time, the old impulses of decency inherent in Christianity surface, even among today's pinched evangicals, as when they pour their efforts into relief in poor countries or highlighting slavery in the Sudan.
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