I have personally seen religious fundamentalism at work in my own life, particularly in friends, family, and my own personal experience with those people. The first time that I encountered fundamentalist Christianity always comes to mind when I think of where this can go in religious groups around the world. Now, I will not be touching on any terrorism or Islamic fundamentalism around the world in this reflection, but will in the next reflection. This one will strictly be for Christian fundamentalism.
Sarah (name changed for this story) was one of my best friends throughout my childhood and teenage years. Both of our parents required us to go to church every weekend, and our families attended two different churches, so we would hang out around that schedule and abide by the rules of our households. Every now and then, when there was a sleepover, we'd attend one another's service if our parents allowed it, but usually it was her attending my Catholic service and me attending her children's ministries or teenager ministry programs while her mother attended regular service. One weekend, and I do not recall why, both Sarah and I attended church service with her mother instead of the separate program.
Now, her family was Christian, but they attended the non-denominational church in the town, which means that they can make it pretty much however they want to. I was used to Catholic churches remaining fairly the same across the board, but with her church, there was something incredibly different. As the service started with a live band and sing-a-long words on the screen, I looked around uncomfortable at all of the people raising their hands, closing their eyes, and singing the words to Christian songs that they have obviously sung a hundred times before. Nothing was familiar, nothing was like my Catholic church with hymns and sitting there quietly, and there was so much interaction that I had no idea what to do.
Sarah seemed to be comfortable, though she kept her hands to her sides and did not sing, so I continued to follow her lead. As the pastor ran up to the stage and started his sermon, we sat down and listened quietly. Again, it was uncomfortable and new, but I just kept quiet and treated it like a normal service that I was used to. As the pastor's sermon came to a close, I thought the service was over and we were almost out of there, but he instead called up the prayer warriors and anyone in need of prayer. This is where we get into the fundamentalist part of it. Sick, worried, frustrated, broken people slowly stood up from their seats around us in the crowd and walked to the front. As they came to end of the rows, prayer warriors were there to lead them across the front of the stage, down below, and starting surrounding each person.
The prayers started out quiet and slow, almost inaudible over the music. I looked at Sarah, who looked disinterested, then looked at her mother, who had her eyes closed, her hands raised, and seemed to be either singing to herself or mumbling prayers. As the people kneeled down, one after another, and the prayer warriors continued to pray over them, voices started to rise and get much louder. "Yes Lord", "heal him Lord", "lead her Jesus", and "Amen" began to fill the open room, the music seemed to be getting louder, and the people began to shake. One woman, who was in front of us with an older man who appeared to be suffering from a physical ailment, started screaming and shouting, her eyes closed and hands up, then she would kneel down and put her hands on this man's shoulder. I quickly looked around to see if anyone else felt alarmed or wanted to run out of there, but everyone seemed to be praying, watching, or acting like it's just another day of usual church. I sat there incredibly scared, incredibly lost, and the only thing I wanted to do was run, run, RUN.
The voices slowly got quieter, the people began to return to quieter prayers and small movements, and each person that needed extra prayers either stayed kneeling at the front or quietly returned to their seats with looks of relief and healing on their faces. Everyone remained quiet, watched, and as the pastor closed the service, each family popped up and started conversing with those around them, catching up, and talking life. I was in shock, I didn't say a word, and I just remember waiting until I could go home to tell my parents that I never want to go to their church again. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for the Catholic church. This was absolutely normal to those that attended this church, but from an outside perspective, it was terrifying and puzzling. I am incredibly grateful to have had an experience like this, to experience this kind of new thing and be able to feel like an outsider, but it still gives me a bit of fear and a drop to my stomach. To this day, I still wouldn't go back there and witness that again. One time was enough for me, but I hold nothing against Sarah for continuing to call that her home church.
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