Apologies

In the last year I've found myself in three conversations apologizing for members of my church as a whole.  Two of these conversations were in the last week. 

It's an awkward place for me to be.  I worry that an apology for behavior seems like an apology for belief.  And I'm confused about why there can be screwballs of all colors and creeds, but not mine.  And at the same time, I'm so sad that our church has the image or is portraying the messages I heard.

They talked about exclusion.  Exclusion from sleepover parties, cheerleading teams, neighborhoods, and heaven.  They talked about persistent invitations that made them angry.  That seemed like the opposite problem to exclusion, but I didn't think to point that out.  And they talked about control.  Parents choosing careers and spouses and all sorts of weird stuff I don't see.  They accused me of being blinded and brainwashed and laid-back about my religion.  I'm not sure which accusation hurt worse.

I'm not sure why I feel the need to apologize for all of us.  I think I'm ashamed.  It's possible that they misinterpreted their experiences.  But it's also possible that in the time-consuming responsibilities of the church, people in the neighborhood were left out.  It's possible that in our efforts to share our happiness, we convey pressure.  And it's probable that my religion, like all other groups in the world, has nut cases too.  Please don't let them define us.

Even though, I've heard how nice, how friendly, how family-centered we are far more times than I've heard the reverse, it still hurts.  I think it shatters my expectations of us as a people.  I feel like, considering all we know about the loving, merciful, parental nature of God; considering the number of hours we spend in classes that teach us how to apply Christ's principles to our lives; considering our very sincere desires to follow Jesus's example, we ought to be the kindest, most helpful, most inclusive people anyone ever encounters.  I know that I'm not, but that doesn't prevent me from expecting that "we" would be.

When I was a teenager, an old man with a hunched back and a warm smile told me not to forget that, "The Church is true, in spite of a few."  Ain't that the truth?