CHAPTER ONEThis is as good of a picture as any to start my story telling of my rather wild and woolly tales about my experiences with the many different religions I have had in this particular lifetime. Let's say that caption on this particular picture was to be very 'prophetic.'I'd like to insert as much humor into what will actually be 'the real truth' of my experiences, even though, goodness knows, not all of it was 'funny.' Humor is probably one of the most healing elements we can favor ourselves with. Trying to seek out the lighter side...rather than all of the 'bad moments' is, I believe, very much to any one's advantage.
If I can, in any way at all, help anyone else by sharing my own dramas... that would make me feel good. Hopefully my story will help others to overcome what (being serious here now) could have proved to have been some very, very challenging experiences that were difficult to overcome.
OK. Ready. Set. Go.
My parents, who adopted me when I was but 11 days old, were Lutheran. German Lutheran. Our Synod (the Lutheran church had many synods usually based on ethnic groups) was called the American synod. When I started in actually paying attention to what my folks were talking about, church wise, the mention of the Missouri Synod was always talked about in strange tones. They were stricter. No Masons allowed. No dancing allowed. I never knew why.
My little farm country hometown of Lehigh, Kansas, population of around 250...which likely included cows, pigs, chickens, dogs and cats... was made up of all German people. You were either a Lutheran (in the minority) or you were some form of Mennonite. Regular Mennonite, Mennonite Brethren, or Kansas Mennonite Brethren...all becoming more strictly austere in their appears and "what they didn't do." No lipstick, severe hairdos, plain clothing, etc... In ALL Mennonite Churches, the women sat on one side and the men on the other. Funerals were the exception. Guess God gave them special dispensation for those times.
The first thing I remember learning about the Mennonites was their menfolks didn't have to go and fight in the war. They were CO's...Conscientious Objectors. As a child I absorbed the views of other Lutherans. Lutherans would call them 'cowardly objectors.' CO's were given stateside jobs at military bases...like cleaning bedpans in military hospitals -- was what I always heard talked about. Anything demeaning to make up for their cowardice in refusing to 'serve their country.'
Little, then, did I know how my OWN views would change in regards to wars. Wars, in movies, were always nearly romanticized...The bloody, ugly, savage, insane truth of war remained far removed from the silver screen.
My earliest memories of 'church' was when I was age 4 or 5. My Sunday school class was taught in this little cramped room that held the preacher's vestments. It had one straight little bench that we sat upon, side by side. A very kind lady named Mildred Dies (pronounced Dees) was our teacher. She continued to be our Sunday School teacher for many years. I mainly remember learning about the typical, common Bible stories that I couldn't even begin to relate to: Jonah and the Whale, Daniel in the Lions Den, Joseph and his brothers, ...the atypical ones. It was always streesed that we were supposed to "be good! and not sin." So, right from the get go ... I was to understand that we were 'not good' by nature but 'had to learn to be that way.' Even though the Bible stories did not really make a lot of sense of me... thankfully Mildred was a kind, patient lady and taught us in a kind way. A lot more so than "God" ever was. God was always 'up there in the sky someplace.' He knew every move we made, every word we said, every thought we had... and He kept count!! He kept a record of all the things you did wrong, and when you died you'd have to stand before his throne, he would review 'your book' and either allow you into Heaven (when sounded miserably boring) or send you to Hell where you would burn forever and ever. That theory was doubley, tripley, and quadrupley reinforced in me by my mother. Quite often.
The beginnings of my comprehension of 'God' were pretty awful. God had nothing to do with "love"... but everything to do with fear and de
manding obedience or else!...Good old fear and conditioning. Those were my religious roots.
Our little church was one of those old, atypical music-box, old fashioned little wooden churches with a steeple that had a little bell tower. I always liked it. To me it was a magical, mystical place (in spite of this mean God) They rang the bell on Sunday mornings before the service...and they also rang the bell (which could be heard all over town) when someone died... even if they weren't Lutheran. I guess Mennonites didn't believe in bells. Not sure why. Too frivolous, I guess.
manding obedience or else!...Good old fear and conditioning. Those were my religious roots. My little white church had very uncomfortable wooden pews. I remember well how they looked, how they were stained and varnished. Altogether there were 12 pews. Six on each side....and then two smaller pews in the front, facing the altar and podium. The podium had to be surmounted by 5 steps so the preacher could get a GOOD view of the congregation. On the other side of the altar was where the little pump organ was located... the one I would start playing for the church services when I was only 12 years old.
At the front of the altar hung a crucifix. That was disturbing. We had a big picture of Jesus hanging on the cross in our little Sunday school room, too. It was just something 'that was.' It didn't even mean that much to me. I don't remember thinking, gee, I wonder if that hurt?... or anything like that. It was the way I viewed hunting. If you are raised with the idea that you take a rifle and go and shoot rabbits or pheasants or chop the heads off chickens... it's just the way it is. It isn't right or wrong. It's the way it is. That doesn't mean I LIKED that picture. I didn't like it at all. Flowers would have been better.
After Sunday school was over, all the children were expected to sit with their parents and be very quiet! And you did NOT turn around and look around! Church services lasted about an hour. I played a lot with my little red patent purse, my little white gloves, and my hankerchiefs that I would try to make into little dolls. The singing was just gosh-awful. Lutheran hymnals contain the dullest sounding music ... no different that Catholics or Episcopals. And oh GOD some of the women had these high pitched, droney voices...it would take like minutes to get through one short verse! It's a wonderful the coyotes didn't wander into town on Sunday mornings. Many of the words to the hymns were scarey, too. A lot of stuff about suffering and blood and pleaing and dying to be saved. And of course, much 'praising.' The hymns...except for Onward Christian Soldiers which had a real beat to it!--were not much fun to sing. Of course, who was supposed to have FUN, for heaven's sake!
Now I LOVED Christmas in that little Church. That is one of my best memories. I had a good singing voice almost from the time I could talk. When I was only 3 years old, I sant "Silent Night" on Christmas Eve in that little church. I honestly do truly remember that.
Christmas programs were FUN. We all had little recitations to memorize. We sang songs. Always "Away in A Manger" doing all the hand gestures. The Christmas tree always reached to the ceiling, beautifully decorated. Sheer magic. It was always best when it was snowing outside. I w as always told that Santa Claus would bring gifts to your house while you were in Church on Christmas Eve. It always seemed to happen. The Christmas Eve Service would always end with everyone singing Silent Night. That was one of my most precious and best loved memories. That is indeed a beautiful song. Nothing about hell or sin...just love. I still get tears in my eyes when I hear it sung on Christmas Eve. I believe its one of the most beautifully spiritual songs in the world. I could even sing it in German!
I remember only two ministers. Reverent Bartke... who was bald and had a shiney, big, kind of square head and he was rather obese... He sometimes needed help getting up and down the steps to the podium. Later I was to find out he was often drunk on Sunday mornings. Poor guy, undoubtedly an alcoholic. He would preach unbelievably long sermons, flipping through Bible pages, and Mr. Steinle and Mr. Spremberg would sometimes fall asleep... To me it all 'sounded' like Charlie Brown's teacher in the cartoons...wah wah wah wah...wah wah... I liked it in the winter time because I would snuggle up to my mom, and loved it when she wore her fur coat. That felt so good. That was a good memory.
The other preacher was one of the meanest men that walked the earth. Reverent Danteschek. I don't believe that man EVER smiled!...let alone laugh. He had a perpetual scowl on his long drawn face and he more or less just barked his answers to everyone. He had a sweet, quiet, lovely wife.
Rev. Danteschek's sermons were full of fire, hell, brimstone, punishment...and he would pound on the Bible, slap it down on the podium...and POINT at people. Once my friend Doris Sietiz and I got called down for talking. We were sitting in the back pew and we WERE whispering! Anyway, I can still hear that man loudly say: "Doris! Betty Ann. Be quiet and stop talking!"... I knew I would catch it when I got home.
The members of the congregation would have to take turns inviting the preacher and wife over for Sunday dinner after church. My mother just dreaded her turn...She spent as much time and energy warning me about behaving myself!-- as she did in preparing the meal. How that mean old preacher man even managed to open his MOUTH and never break that scowel...still amazes me. He never had anything nice to say as far as I can remember. He was one miserable old coot!
