Why are televangelists just so damn funny?

Marissa, Katey, and I asked ourselves this very question on our train ride coming back from Zurich. Between a Catholic and two Protestants of varying degrees of liberalism, we know a thing or two about Christianity in its various forms, and we have each formed our own unique identities within that. And none of them correspond with the popular perception of "the Christian" as the moralizing zealot intent on proving that their belief system is the only legitimate path to fulfillment.

As much as most people within Christianity acknowledge the ideological diversity of its members, the very vocal Christian Right has created a less-than-positive image of the faith for those on the margins or the outside. Granted, there is a sizable group of Evangelical Protestants that does adhere to the ideology of Christian conservatism. Pat Robertson's 700 Club remains on the air, and megachurches on Texas and Colorado Springs get their members from somewhere. But their tenets of exclusiveness and following the Republican Party platform as if it were directly derived from Scripture have tainted the image of Christianity as a whole, leaving the rest of us that have discovered that the Bible does not command us to persecute homosexuals, repress any hint of sexuality as if it were a manifestation of Satan, or place conversion to our own ideology over serving others without pretext to defend our decision to assume a Christian identity.

And televangelists and Evangelical Christian culture as a whole takes a significant portion of the blame. The Christian Right has a lot of money and, for some reason, a disproportionate amount of influence. And many of their spokespeople are just really funny in their ridiculousness.

There's Pat Robertson and the 700 Club, the almost-daily "news and inspiration" program that usually makes me laugh and my friend and first-year roommate Jo cry. Pat Robertson makes mainstream news for declaring that US operatives should assassinate Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez (to be fair, I haven't exactly decided how I feel about Chavez yet, but that is beside the point) and recently claiming that God has given him a prophesy that there will be some forthcoming disaster that will kill numerous Americans for their "hedonistic ways". And then there is when Robertson and his co-host of the day pray, and it seems that they believe that the more they squint, the more likely God is to listen to them. Somehow conservative political propaganda, pleas for conversion, and self-praising montages about all that Operation Blessing has done are inspirational.

Then there are the even more outrageous ones that seem to do nothing other than ask for money while wearing awful mustard-colored suits, showcasing a wooden wife with a bad blonde dye job who thinks she can sing, and offering to tell you "how to pay your bills supernaturally" in exchange for a "donation". Oh, what you see on TV while proofreading MMW papers at 1 AM. You know you've seen that one.

Then there are the too-happy megachurch pastors that have somehow been able to market everything about themselves. Joel Osteen now has the Your Best Life Now board game (based on his best-selling prosperity gospel treatise) that promises to let you "experience the book in a whole new way". There are also the reportedly awful Rapture sagas known as the Left Behind novels (and movies) and the new video game, where the player tries to convert the "heathen" residents of New York City before it's too late. These people would love for us to believe that all this stuff will be indispensable tools for our lives as "good" Christians. You know, all the good Christian teens have their True Love Waits rings that they received at their purity balls (that's a rant for another time) and their WWJD bracelets... And this is why the off-Broadway musical Altar Boyz is so phenomenal. Evangelical culture was just begging to be parodied. And how can you argue with Scott Porter singing to you that "Girl, you make me want to wait".

No wonder Christianity gets a less-than-honorable reputation. The stories on the news about Christianity are about Ted Haggard and his homosexual prostitute, not the countless Christians who are quietly but truly following the example of Jesus to love our neighbors as ourselves. We need to pay more attention to things like UCSD Intervarsity's Impact1 conference, where we discussed the urgency of a humanitarian response to the burgeoning AIDS epidemic. Or a group of people from a church in Portland, OR who regularly visit homeless people in the city and wash their feet. We need to pay more attention to the varying opinions within Christianity and exalt our ideological diversity. Because really, what ultimately concerned Jesus more- converting people so that they would be saved (and spending countless hours debating who exactly we think gets to partake of salvation) or going out into the world and loving our neighbors, without pretension, recognizing our common humanity and manifesting on Earth at least a portion the love that we know God has for all of us?

World Records and Linguistic Incompetence

This past weekend, two of my new friends and I took a 3-hour train north to Zurich, Switzerland's largest city. We saw snow, ate rosti (more or less Swiss hash browns), and learned how to navigate the city's Old Town/downtown quarter.

Zurich, as many of you probably know, was a prominent center of the Protestant Reformation and is still very Protestant. We visited 4 colorful and architecturally impressive Reformed churches concentrated in the main tourist district, each possessing a grandeur rarely seen in American Protestant churches (or really in any American church, for that matter). We climbed the 180 (I think) stairs to the top of the Grossmunster, which gave us a phenomenal view of the city and Lake Zurich (and of course the requisite cranes that seem to be everywhere in Switzerland). We also saw stained glass windows created by Marc Chagall (at the age of 80, no less) in the Fraumunster, and I can't even begin to describe how impressive they are. There are pictures, but they can't truly convey their beauty, especially as the light was nearly perfect when we were there. The Swiss National Museum was also impressive, with 500-year-old artwork that was so well preserved that the dates were almost unbelievable. Many of the pieces also brought out my literary analysis mind, as I was trying to come up with theories to explain the significance of the various portrayals of Jesus, for example.

In contrast to the strong religious presence in Zurich, you also see lots of pictures of naked women on various buildings. And not tasteful nudity. I have no problem with tasteful nudity. It's the obviously pornographic, this doesn't really resemble sex or the female body in any respectful way nudity that was oddly juxtaposed against the reverence demanded by the city's grandiose historical landmarks. It was a little shocking to my American sensibilities, even as I consider myself to be fairly open-minded.

Also, Zurich is a German-speaking city, and I have never felt so linguistically inept in my entire life. I'm accustomed to being the one that knows what's going on, that can talk to the locals, and doesn't need the special English menu. Fortunately my new friend Marissa knows German, so she functioned as our interpreter. But it still felt strange, being that I'm usually in the interpreter position. None of my four languages could really help me that much.

And also, as my mom told me when I called her that night, she broke a world record in Zurich. We never did see the supposedly famous track there though. I think I'll have to do that one with my mom someday, bring back some fond memories for her.

I live in a brothel...sort of

Apparently the building I live in here in Lugano was, 6 or 7 years ago, a brothel. And my little single room with a private bathroom and a kitchenette was, to put it politely, one of the "transaction" rooms. I guess that explains the built-in full-size bed. And the wonderfully (at least compared to our dorms at ERC) soundproofed walls. Though compared to our nearly uninsulated ERC dorms, anything is more soundproofed, as you could hear pretty much everything the people above and below you were doing. Especially those things you never wanted to hear them do. Sex really is only a participation sport. Being a spectator in that situation just isn't a whole lot of fun.

I have realized, though, that if I wanted to have sex with someone here, I have a fabulous room for it. I can't say I have anyone here that I would particularly want to prove that theory with, but the hypothetical situation is a nice one. In reality, this school is so small that it would be nearly impossible to do anything of the sort inconspicuously, soundproofing or not.

At the same time, I really don't like to think about what these walls have probably seen. This place once housed a combination of desperation and objectification that manages to make something that can be really, really good into something terribly exploitative. A ghastly mutation of sex that takes usually destitute women forced to choose between prostituting themselves or letting their children starve (can you truly call that a free choice?) and places them at the whims of men in search of, really, an ultra-realistic blow-up doll and those that will do anything to ensure a profit from it. It is the ultimate projection of the insidious sexual double standard: men have no self-control and women are simply passive objects. It is the ultimate manifestation of the virgin/whore dichotomy, and I know that is often how it is rationalized.

I, now, just sit here and take comfort in my new mattress and repainted walls. In the fact that I know that I am the one who defines my sexuality and its expression. In knowing that I have the right to enjoy my sexuality on my own terms, as an active being, an equal participant. I am no one's whore and no one's virgin. I also sit here on my bed and pray for all those, women and men, who have had that right taken away from them somehow and hope that someday, we can embrace a sexual ethic that uplifts and respects us all. One that allows each of us to fully enjoy our sexualities free from the double standards and dehumanization that, ultimately, harm us all.

I told you this would also be a soapbox...

Benvenuti in Svizzera!

So, I've been in Switzerland for a couple weeks now, and I'm finally getting around to starting the blog I promised. It's been a busy week of traveling, orientation, and figuring out what exactly I'll be doing for the next 4 months. It's already been an adventure, to say the least. So far, I've chased a hotel shuttle while dragging 3 suitcases, had a bit too much fun with my in-seat television while doped up on Ambien, and battled 9 hours worth of jet lag.

I've met a very interesting group of people in my fellow study abroad students and a few new full-time students of Franklin, who are in many ways very unlike me. But I love them nonetheless. One of the guys reminds me a lot of (for all my UCSD friends) John Chung, with that same laid-back, friendly, will go along with almost anything personality. I am definitely the one who drinks the least, so I'll need to watch my probably not very high alcohol tolerance. All I really do drink though is the wine I'm beginning to develop a taste for, thanks to my semi-wine connoisseur parents and that bottle of Gewurztraminer Susan and I had last quarter.

I am a bit closer to two of the study abroad girls, and we had a fun weekend walking around Lugano and trying a couple of restaurants. I like Italian food, but I don't think I'll want it for a few months after I get back to the States. I've had some sort of pasta almost every day that I've been here. It was also surprising just how quiet downtown Lugano was at 8 PM on a Saturday night. Quite a contrast to San Diego.

As for the rest of this overview, I have a single room with a full-size bed in a converted brothel. I have also dropped both of my political science classes, picked up third year Spanish, and am now trying to decide if I want to change the secondary track on my International Studies major. I promise most of my entries will be more exciting than this little summary. I'll expand on some of the points I mentioned above and tell new stories of my experiences and thoughts here in Switzerland. I have many thoughts I look forward to sharing with you all, and I hope you are all doing well, whether in Eugene, San Diego, Lugano, or somewhere else. Now I will drink the Apricot Decaf tea I brought from Oregon.