Living by Our Stories

The stories that we tell each other explain our world and give meaning to our lives. Our stories illustrate our cultural values and model our desired virtues. They teach moral lessons and set the foundation for our debates. Thus, we should think carefully about our chosen stories and beliefs.

When you were young, were you told to be good because Santa Claus knew if you were naughty or nice? Even the stories that we openly acknowledge as myths or fables are repeated to illustrate what we should or should not do and how we should relate to others. For instance, the story of Pandora’s Box illustrates the bad that can happen from disobeying the instructions of someone older and wiser. Believing that thunder is the laughter of the gods can help ease a child’s fear.

This week, Public Policy Polling (a highly ranked organization with a history of reliable results) examined widespread conspiracy theories sometimes held by American voters.

Cultural Heroes in Difficult Times

Cultural Heroes in Difficult Times

Thank you to those who told me that they missed my columns during the last few months. [Summer, 2012, ed.] We were getting into the last convulsions of some very bitter political campaigns. I felt strongly tempted to respond to the upwelling of political partisanship by fighting a battle of ideas in print. Lord, some of those letters to the editor got me steamed. Instead, I put a bumper sticker on my car that said: “You are entitled to your own opinions, but not your own facts.”

I almost got sucked into arguing with the undoubting faithful from the other side. That has variously been compared to “confronting a shadow in a knife fight,” “grabbing the ears of an angry dog” and “throwing pearls before swine.” Nothing good can come of it.

On the other hand, I believe we should persistently doubt our own assumptions, opinions and preconceived notions. It’s like I used to tell my boys, “It’s okay to talk to yourself and it’s even okay to argue with yourself, but when you start to lose those arguments, it’s time to start asking new questions.”

Short story: Smiting Sinners

Good vs. evil vs. minding your own business in the Blue Ridge mountains. Can a respected preacher-man succeed in calling a wayward brother to repentance? And, is anybody ever going to do something about "Uncle"  Ralph?

Scheduled for publication in Life Will Surprise You in the End: More Short Stories by David Satterlee (2004)

Smiting Sinners

By David Satterlee

 

Just below Brown Cemetery, Wiley Roy was joined by the Reverend Pastor Bobby Thrasher from the Johns Creek Churches. You know the place: right where Johns Creek joins up with Caney Fork. Most of Wiley Roy’s friends didn’t go to the Baptist church there. Wiley Roy mostly didn’t go to the Methodist church across the road.

It didn’t much matter. The early risers, and anybody who still were in want of waking up, usually went to the Baptist Church. The late risers, and those in the mood for a kinder and gentler sermon, went across the road to the Methodist. Some years back, the Baptist Reverend Bobby had agreed to also preach the Methodist sermon while their Pastor healed up from a broke leg. The leg turned to gangrene and the Pastor died, so Bobby became the Reverend Pastor Thrasher some years ago and it just stuck.

Besides, serving both congregations paid enough to let Bobby make it his full-time calling. The arrangement worked out well for everybody involved except for faithful Carl Henson, who put up a fuss about it being sacrilegious or something. But, within three months, Carl and seven of his sheep drowned in high water. Everybody decided that God had smite him for being such a poor shepherd and blessed Bobby for being such a good one.
One afternoon, Wiley Roy Quinn was walking down Ragged Mountain, heading towards his cabin up Johns Creek. There was plenty of time to get there before dusk and he wasn’t hurrying. Fact of the matter, Wiley Roy never did like to hurry — all the more so now that he was toting a bushel sack of corn.
“How you doin’ Reverend Bobby?”

Blasphemy Incorporated

All opinions expressed herein by the author are offered without undue depths of rancor, malice, irony, or satire; only reasonably-balanced depths are intended. I name names and offer opinions but, any errors of fact are unintentional and sincerely regretted.

Rubber Ducky Jesus Nativity

Today, I received several items in the mail, including a magazine subscription offer and a specialty mail order catalog. Both traded on themes of religion — especially Christianity. You have to believe that neither company felt any need of remorse for their marketing choices. At first I was tempted to simply discard the pieces as simple junk mail. However, considered together, they gave me cause to think about the nature of commercialism, American values, and blasphemy.

The first item was an advertisement for “sinful savings” on subscriptions to Free Inquiry magazine (oriented toward the scientific examination of religion). I have a reputation for thinking (and writing) about such controversial subjects and wasn’t surprised to be targeted by their mailing list. The envelop featured red blood splatters and the message, “Blasphemous! Look inside at your own eternal peril.” They enclosed a “Special Introductory Offer - For Blasphemers Only.” Also, “Your salvation isn’t guaranteed… but your satisfaction with Free Inquiry is!” Their come-on letter starts,

Essay: A personal transformation that shocks my family

Gave up #Religion

Information and comments on the essay:

A personal transformation that shocks my family

From the book: Chum for Thought: Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters by David Satterlee

Find out more, including where to buy books and ebooks

Read or download this essay as a PDF file at: https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B4eNv8KtePyKdjE4dk5wX2s0QVk/edit?usp=sharing

Chum For Thought:
Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters

A personal transformation that shocks my family

MOST OF YOU DON'T KNOW that my political participation and the tone of my writing is particularly shocking for those who know the deeply conservative evangelical fundamentalist Christian faith in which I was raised.

I was taught to be radically non-political, with the certainty that God is Love and Satan is the false god exercising power over all governments of men and all other religious beliefs. We understood that only Christ's Kingdom could restore humanity to peace, security, and the approval of God.

I deliberately married a woman with these same beliefs and we taught them to our children. I also taught these things inside the congregation and to the public. As my certainty weakened, my family, faith, work, and physical and mental health all unraveled together. Having survived the loss of all that, I pretty-much started from scratch.

It's been over ten years and I'm still fragile but somewhat better now, thank you. Under stress, I have Tourette ticks; I hoot, moo, and chirp. Thankfully,