Sunday, June 5, 2011

According to my mom, I'm going to hell.

I was born into an evangelical Protestant denomination--the church formerly known as the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (the RLDS--not Mormons, though, they're heathens). That church baptized kids when they hit eight years old (or twelve--it's been a long time since I was willing to step foot in that church, since my male genetic donor was one of its ministers).

Mom now thinks that that's wrong, wrong, wrong--after all, Christ was an adult when he set the example.

Christ was an adult. He was thirty. John the Baptist was only a few months older than he was, and literally could not have started his ministry soon enough to baptize Christ any younger.

However, my mom willfully closes her eyes and mind to this little fact. And swears that, since I'm a member of the Episcopal church, and since the imp was baptized at two months old (and the pixie will be next Sunday at a hair over six months old), I'm going to hell because I'm doing it wrong.

Thanks, Mom. If that's the case, then she's going to hell for willfully standing in my sister's way where mental and emotional healing is concerned, because she's doing the parenting thing wrong.

In case you can't tell, I'm a little unhappy with my mother at the moment.


  1. I've often said that some of the worst "advertisements" for religion are some of its most vocal adherents.

    When I hear stuff like this, I just imagine Jesus facepalming: "What is it about 'love your neighbor' that is so hard for you to understand?"

  2. It's bad enough when it's a friend. I can't even describe what it's like for my mom to say things like that.

    I sometimes wonder how I ended up as normal as I have.

  3. WARNING: In OUR later years, my father and I became 'incompatible"--we didn't speak and this all rolled over to my Mom too.

    They are both dead now and we never resolved our issues.

    Not cool.

  4. I'm close to my mom. I'm just taking a few days to cool off before I talk to her again. We kind of avoid the whole topic of infant baptism on my end, and just how bad she screwed up with my sister on hers, *usually.* Odysseus was under the impression that she'd eased up with the attitude and told me to invite her to the pixie's christening, which opened that particular can of waste product.