Mommy grew up catholic and
raised my brother and I as such when we were young. I remember going to classes (catechism lessons), rehearsals and what I remember most was the frock…
so many frills and oh even my underwear had frills! Then there were the white shoes and socks, again
with the frills! Eeew! I felt like the
doll my brother and I used as target practice while honing our bingy skills
(aka sling shot, similar to what David used to slay Goliath). When the First Communion Day came I put on
the dress, scratching and nervous but excited!
I was going to receive the body of Christ and with any luck get some of
that wine too!!! I can totally
understand the vampire culture… I was excited about drinking the blood/wine or
maybe I was a boozer at seven! Hmmm?
Later when we moved to Mona, some friendly
Jehovah Witnesses came knocking and soon we were off to the Kingdom Hall on
Trafalgar Road. Somehow the street
walking and lack of a Christmas celebrations got to my Mom (she loved Carols)
or perhaps it was just that during the street walking she came across the Mona
Church of Christ worshipping at the old Mona Theatre… just walking distance from
our home. This one was
non-denominational and by my tenth birthday I had been baptized in another
white dress sans frills! This meant that
I went to church not only on Sundays but Wednesdays for Bible Study and Fridays
for Youth Choir.
It was somewhat of a relief to move to
Barbican, with no churches within walking distance and somewhat secularist
neighbours (you’ll come to appreciate this shortly). Soon our visits to Church of Christ grew
fewer and fewer and we became like many normal families who attended church at
Christmas and Easter. That did not last
very long as my Father retired from the Police Force and before I had time to
hit puberty I was going to classes again to be confirmed Methodist.
My Dad had always been a Methodist and really
didn’t share my Mom’s sophisticated attitude towards other denominations. He was, while he was working, a consistent
once a year visitor to Saxthorpe Methodist Church. Now that my Dad was retired he decided to
become a Local Preacher in the Western St. Andrew Circuit with Red Hills
Methodist Church as our home church. By
then we had moved to Forest Hills, and I had no idea how much my life would
change. It was really great to move
across the street from St. Hugh’s sisters, one of whom was in a few of my classes
but their Dad was one of the Deeper Life Ministries Leader and my Mom
experimented with the Charismatic Movement at the same time that my Dad was
doing his Local Preacher thingy.
What this meant for me was I would go to
Stephanie Hall (Holy Childhood) every Saturday with my Mom and neighbours for
Deeper Life Ministries’ all-day activities.
Soon I was singing, rhythmic clapping, beating tambourine and drums,
dancing and signing (yes sign language chile, there were some deaf members) but
remained in awe of those who would/could speak in tongues, prophesy and slay in
the spirit (or as we would chuckle in the back… drop like ripe
breadfruit!) Not to be outdone, my Dad
would drag me off to at least three different Churches one Sunday a month (Red
Hills, Sterling Castle and Rock Hall) in the Circuit where I would read the
same scripture during each of the services and listen to my father’s sermon
over and over again.
On the other
Sundays we worshipped at Red Hills, then we did the Church books after the
service. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse for me, my Dad took on
the responsibility of ministering to “shut-ins” or elderly folks who could no
longer come to church. That meant that
those Sundays when he would preach, we would leave home at 8:30 am and return
after dark because in addition to three services we had to make home
visits. Those who were missed on Sunday
had a mid-week visit. These home visits
were particularly taxing, as it was a two or if my Mom joined us, three person
recreation of Sunday service. Not only
did I have to read the scripture but I would have to sing or play some musical
instrument depending on the season. I
would play either the recorder or pianica, thankfully I could not blow and sing
at the same time nor did we have a keyboard to cart around. When my Dad suggested I learn to play the
accordion, I truly felt victimized! Did
I mention my Dad repeated shortened versions of his sermon in the homes
too? This had to be child abuse!
Eventually I started bringing some of the
Charismatic moves into the Methodist Church, they were not welcomed by most,
not even the tambourine or rhythmic clapping, go figure! My spirited attempts to stay awake caught the
eye of one of the mature youth leaders.
We became fast friends to the delight of my Dad, as her Mom was a
well-respected Local Preacher. She had a
car and shared my love for Manning Cup and Champs so I helped her with the
youth program, organizing skits, lively songs with modest clapping even some
drumming and dances while also generally recruiting support from teenagers in
the area… one of these teens “mek mi kin ketch a fya!” It was not so tortuous going to Church three
or four times a week anymore, except for the Sunday’s when my Dad would preach,
it was actually fun!
In sixth form when we were introduced to
Comparative religion, I became exceedingly curious about other religions and
had the perfect opportunity because one of my best friends is Hindu so I would
attend the Diwali Festival to support her and her younger sister and would overwhelm
them and their parents with all kinds of questions about their beliefs and
practices. In my afro-Jamaican
consciousness period I became very aware of obeah, I continue even today to
speak of paying the obeah man (for it is never good to owe yu obeah man),
‘nointing wid de oil an generally call on de spirit of our ancestors during
sporting events in particular… watch out fe World Cup!
This fascination with religions and culture was
turbo charged when I moved to New York where I cultivated my love of all things
cross-cultural and was provided with the tools to become a participant observer
through my doctoral studies. Not to
mention that the doctoral program and the faculty who taught us were so
diverse. So I sampled Islam, Reform
Judaism and Buddhism (a non-theistic religion) and dragged my Mom to partake as
well. She remained curious but never
quite comfortable with these other religions.
I took from each experience of these religions and culture something
that informs my life even today. From
Islam, the notion of jihad as a struggle against injustice, I use it in my
approach to gender and racial equality.
From Reform Judaism, I take the skepticism, they question everything and
apply reason and logic to it all. Reform
Jews are very tolerant of differences and also have a long history of support
for LGBT and reproductive rights, I embraced that too. From the Buddhists, I learned to meditate and
practice yoga and often still refer to karma, though not quite the same way
that they do.
My Mom
encouraged my participation and was always welcoming to all my friends from
school whatever their orientation, race or religion. When she died I had an interfaith service to
celebrate her life which pissed off my Christian family! My cousin especially who “forbid me” from
distributing keepsakes with a beautiful quotation from Thich Nhat Hanh’s “No
Death, No Fear,” did I mention my
younger son also recited it during the service. Then dear old Dad, who could not believe that
I had my “multi-national friends” read from Bhagavad Gita, Khalil Gibran’s “The
Prophet,” in addition to the Bible but no sermon and the service was not in a
Methodist Church! There was lots of
singing, musical tributes – piano and flute, dance and even some drumming… my
Mom would have loved it! I sure did!
This feud gave me the courage to “come out”
as an agnostic atheist… I don’t believe that god exists because I have not seen
evidence nor do I believe it is likely knowable… or as my family refers to me
“ole ‘eathen!” What a relief to be out
of the closet… frees up my time for so many other pursuits, like Air Me Now,
Yardie Skeptics and activism!
[Sharon, an "ole heathen", feminist skeptic, and proud Swan (alumnus of St. Hugh's High School) is a Jamaican resident in the USA, and the recent recipient of a Yardie Skeptic honour: permanent dedication of Singing Sandra's "Die With My Dignity": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egi0ahIti4E] Sharon is also a regular panelist on our all-woman show Air Me Now, which will be launch its second season on May 8, 2014]
