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1. |
Church I
04:41
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I never felt touched by Church sermons
I was never inspired by the good word
Or by the ramblings of the Preacher at the alter
I always thought maybe I was missing something
When my family and friends spoke of their love for God
And their eyes shone with wonder and awe
I wanted to believe and I wanted to see
The way they saw their faith
And the way they felt when they read the Bible
I tried to match their enthusiasm
To read the book
And to look upon the cross with the same reverence
But my passion was hollow and it showed
I couldn’t read past Genesis before becoming bored
And where most saw a symbol, I saw a wooden cross
A slab of wood fixed to another
A book of drawn out words with silly sentence structure
An excitement for what felt like a wasted Sunday morning
My Church wasn’t a bad Church
And my friends who kept their faith on their sleeves
Were not bad friends; We shared other interests
And they didn’t make me feel out of place for my lack of faith.
But it was such a huge part of their life
That I felt like I couldn’t be a part of
I went to their youth groups silently
I sat through their Sunday school classes
Trying not to doze off
I went on their retreats and their trips
Feeling uncomfortable and ashamed
That I couldn’t relate to them.
Until I discovered a Church that made sense to me
A religion that spoke to my heart
Something that I put my faith in
With every fiber of my being
Every iota of my heart and soul
Devotion in the truest sense to this
My Church was dingy and dirty
Wine was not the holy blood of Christ
Those who attended were not in their Sunday best
It wasn’t held on Sundays
At least not exclusively
And the service was not free, although it was cheap and well worth it
My Church felt like home
I felt like I belonged to something otherworldly
Something beautiful and exciting
I looked upon my Church and felt a sense of purpose
That before I had only seen in the faces of the devoted
In the eyes of my friends and family
But those eyes always seemed clouded
Glazed in complacency, Tired and mesmerized
Asleep at the wheel while Jesus took hold
And drove them to obedience as we sung
The hymns and the Church songs
Boring, tone deaf, with no respect for the art
My Church was exciting and full of life
People gazed at the sermons with fervor
With a vigor for life and an excitement
That was never felt at the other Church
It was engaging and invigorating
It was exceptional and amazing
I learned so much at My Church
I learned to value things like art and music
Learned how important expression was
How you could bare your soul through things
That weren’t strictly in reverence to God
And could value things separate from religion
I learned about other perspectives
Life lessons and contradicting opinions
I learned to grow as a person
And to put my faith in myself
Instead of to a God that I never really believed in.
My Church will never be a glorious stone building
Persisting through time
Standing tall and imposing; Cold and sterile
My Church however, will welcome anyone
Willing to have an open mind and an open heart
And accept anyone who sees the beauty in it.
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2. |
Church II
03:02
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Caleb was a good boy
He went to Church every Sunday
He prayed for Mrs. Walters when she got the flu
He never took the Lord’s name in vain
He got good grades in all of his classes
He ignored the whispers and murmurs from his peers.
He endured their hatred and their torment.
Caleb was a good boy
He kept every secret that was asked of him
When he saw Mama with Mr. Jackson in his parent’s bedroom
He promised he wouldn’t tell Father
It would only upset him, Mama said.
And that was the last thing Caleb wanted
For Father was fond of his belt, especially when he had been drinking
And he was often fond of the bottle
Caleb was a good boy
He never told a lie
Father said that God has no room for liars in heaven
So when teacher asked him about the bruises he told the truth
They were punishment from God for being wicked
That’s what Father said, so it must be true.
His scars absolved him of his sin
So that Caleb could be a good boy
He bore his wounds with pride
They would grant him favor to heaven
He was ugly on the outside, but pure within
He endured his frequent punishments
As his father enjoyed his whisky
Forgiving Caleb of his wrongdoings
Caleb was a good boy
Even when he went to the hospital
Caleb was a good boy
He told the doctor that God was cleansing him
Preparing him for Heaven
Caleb’s Father sat in silence
As his son greeted God
For Caleb was a good boy
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3. |
Church III
02:46
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Hallelujah their day will come
The mighty and the proud
The pious and the well fed
The righteous on the right
Who look down at those less fortunate
At those with less to give
And less to say
And less to eat
And less to breathe
For they are suffocating beneath their sin
For why else would they seem so meek
So dirty
So foul
So wrong
So poor
Hallelujah their day will come
When the sinners of the earth will repent
And be cast to the flames
The fires they already feel at their backs
With our stares of disgust
Of hatred
Of shame
Of fear
The grotesque nature of the sick
Who’s disease shows through their tattered rags
Through their pasty skin and frail bones
Through their bleak stares
Pleading for the light they have yet to earn
Hallelujah their day will come
When those who have gorged themselves
On the light from above
When they have eaten of the body
And drank from the veins of the Lord
Until they could eat and drink no more
When there was none for the wicked
So that they may starve of the light
And feast on the emptiness sin
When the pure can ascend beyond
To a realm of predetermination
Of obedience
Of servitude
Where mystery does not exist
And thought is not free
But complacency is all
Hallelujah their day will come
And the saved ones will gaze below
At the world they left behind
At the pestilent and the war
And the famine and the death
And wonder how they survived without sin
Without bloodying their hands in such a dark world
Remaining ever blind to the stains of red footprints
That ascended the steps behind them
Leaving a bountiful trail of misery in their wake
Hallelujah their day will come
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4. |
Church IV
04:12
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It is said by some that there is only one true God
Who created the world and it’s inhabitants
The mountains and the oceans
The trees and the sky
It is said that this God is a loving and noble God
Who grants everlasting life to those who simply believe
In his word and his light
Allowing them to ascend to his domain
And live forever at his side
It is said that this God demands respect
That he is to be paid tribute
And his light and his gifts will not be granted
If tithes are not paid
His will done through his followers
It is said that this God is a mighty and terrible God
Hoarding his tree of knowledge from his children
Hiding them away in blissful ignorance
Punishing them for being curious
As children often are
It is said that this God is a petulant and vicious God
Who was displeased with his creations
And commanded that they should be drowned
Buried by a divine sea
Undoing his holy mistakes and starting anew
It is said that this God is a lover of bloodshed
A partaker of War and strife
Demanding that those who do not believe in his light
Be removed from his world
Slaughtered in his name
It is said that this God is a vindictive God
Who cast his angel into the Earth
Creating a world of fire and suffering
And sends those who oppose his word
To join in the same fate
It is said that this God is a God of many faces
That he is both forgiving and good
And wretched and cruel
And caring and kind
And spiteful and blind
To the plights of the meek
And the growling stomachs of children and beggars
Yet he is still the one, and only true God
Many things are said of this God
Be they accounts told again and again
Passed through time from those who witnessed
God’s actions firsthand
Be they stories crafted to warn against evil
To control, To protect
To deceive, To respect
An ancient belief that has been warped
And changed, And defiled
And improved, And destroyed
And renewed into what is known today
As the one, and only true God
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St. Jupiter Columbia, South Carolina
One man ambient project by Alec Edelson.
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