Christian Nation by Frederic C. Rich Read Free Book Online

childhood, holding fast to the old hymns and refusing to make any expedient accommodation to contemporary sensibilities. What we saw that day, in contrast, was religion finely and completely attuned to every nuance and preference of contemporary American popular culture—attuned, that is, in terms of experience and presentation. Content, as we found out, was another thing altogether.
    The sanctuary stood at the center of a complex that included several schoolrooms, a library (which contained mostly religious DVDs and few books), a senior center, and a kindergarten, among other facilities. This church seemed to loom large in the life of the bride’s family. The church, our friend Jim said, had given back the sense of community that this suburb had been missing. He also had called it a “Bible-believing church,” but he didn’t elaborate.
    At the dinner after the ceremony, the three of us were seated with the sister of the bride, who was slightly older than we were and worked at an accounting firm. Sanjay was talking about You and I and happened to mention that the first group attracted to the website were yogis.
    “Oh,” the sister said, suddenly looking troubled. “And that was … well, ok?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Sanjay. “Really perfect. They got it immediately.”
    “But … well,” she asked, “aren’t yoga people, you know, atheists?”
    Sanjay, who had been polite but clearly bored, suddenly looked interested.
    “Well, some are, I suppose. But no more or less, I would think, than the general population. Why do you ask?”
    “I don’t think so,” the sister said. “I mean, yoga is a religion, an atheistic religion, so that means that yogis don’t believe in God. In our church, we believe that yoga is one of the ways that Satan recruits souls.”
    I had rarely seen Sanjay at a loss for words. He looked genuinely confused.
    “Sue, with all respect to your church, I have to tell you that is not right. You can be a Christian or a Buddhist or a Muslim and still do yoga. It is true that it emerged from the Hindu tradition and that there is a spiritual dimension in addition to the physical practice. But many devout religious people do yoga. And,” he added, attempting to lighten the mood, “I have done yoga since I was ten, and have never encountered Satan.”
    “You cannot know that. Satan doesn’t announce himself, you know. And anything that calls itself a spiritual practice that doesn’t have Jesus at its center is … well, you know, an illusion.”
    Sanjay was just about to say something conciliatory when Emilie, who had drunk too much wine, jumped in.
    “And I suppose your church teaches that evolution is also an illusion?”
    “No,” she answered, “not an illusion but a theory that is incorrect because it conflicts with the Bible. We’re a Bible-believing church. The Bible is pretty clear about creation. But even if you don’t believe the Bible, there are so many problems with evolution that many eminent scientists don’t believe it, you know. Surely you understand that much.”
    Emilie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
    The sister, sensing success, went on.
    “Last year our church did a field trip to Kentucky to visit the Creation Museum. It was awesome. It explained the right way to understand fossils and about all the evidence for the flood, and showed how man and the dinosaurs coexisted with all the rest of God’s creation. You’ve got to go, really. You’d never think the same way about it if you went. There’s just so much nonsense you hear from the mainstream media—it’s really important for people like you to be exposed to both sides of the story. Oh, and there was a fantastic exhibit at a nearby museum proving the existence of hell. So clever. They put microphones down some abandoned oil wells in Texas and recorded the screams of the damned. Terrifying. You really should go.”
    I could tell that Emilie was on the verge of saying something she would regret, so I