The Old Testament (Genesis)

Title: The Holy Bible (King James Version), Book 1: Genesis
Author(s): Anonymous
Length: 32,042 words
Publisher: None
Rating: 4/5

Short-and-Stupid synopsis: God makes the Earth, Adam, and Eve. They fuck up and get kicked out of paradise. They raise two boys, one kills the other. Then there are a ton of boring names. Noah makes an ark, corrals some animals, and a flood happens. More names. Abram becomes Abraham and has a kid when he's kind of old. Abraham tells everyone to chop off their wiener skins and then nearly murders his only son, because God told him to do it, but God was totally just kidding. Then there's Isaac and Jacob. Then there's some more names. Joseph rolls around, gets sold into slavery by his brothers, later tells a prophecy to the Pharaoh, and totally becomes the Pharaoh's vice-president. Joseph helps prevent a famine, meets up with his brothers, and eventually forgives them. Then, everybody dies eventually, after a hundred-bazillion years.

Favorite Quote: 1:3 "And God said, Let there be light: and there was light."

As I looked at the List, I knew this was going to be a challenge to overcome, not so much because of the size of the Bible, but because I have had many more negative reactions with respect to religion -- specifically Christianity -- than positive ones. I've decided that, rather than write a blog post about the entirety of the Old Testament, I would rather chunk each book up and write a post about it, assuming I can connect with it or remember a story from my own past. I mean, I've only lived twenty-eight years at the time of this post, so I don't know how many stories I'll be able to recall or moments I can capture to tie into my own upbringing, but I'll certainly try.

 Maybe these are the cards I've been dealt for a reason. Maybe I'm supposed to suffer or something for God's pleasure and make amends at some point in my life through a vision or by sleeping with one of my relatives (everybody's boning everyone in Genesis, really). I don't know.

My first experience with Christianity that I can solidly remember -- that is IN THE BEGINNING -- was a solidly negative experience that, actually, ended up being pretty awesome. I guess it's sort of like how Joseph was sold into slavery and ended up, you know, being really fucking cool and becoming wealthy and not dying of starvation. I mean, maybe it's not that extreme, but I can relate to the idea of victory in the face of defeat.

I was young, early in my second grade year. My parents owned two businesses at the time that were housed in the same building on my town's main street: a pharmacy and, in the basement, a diner-slash-arcade, where my mom cooked up Chicago-style hot dogs for kids, while they hung out playing a half-dozen arcade machines and shooting the shit. My hometown consisted of nearly 3,000 people -- large for a town in Iowa in the 90's -- and there weren't many things to do in the way of entertainment, save for driving around endlessly on "The Loop". The diner, Underdogs Arcade (which, at the time was named so because it was "under" the pharmacy and we sold hot dogs, but later became more metaphorical as a safe place for disparaged youth), was a solid business, mostly aimed at middle school and high school kids who were just looking for something to do after school and not have to deal with the drudgery of daily living. I was certainly one of the youngest regulars at the time and I became, in essence, a mascot for the ragtag crowd of nerds, geeks, outcasts, populars, jocks, and every other combination of clique one might have at that time.

It was there that a group of juniors and seniors welcomed me into their exclusive pack of gamers, specifically players of a new, exciting card game called "Magic: The Gathering". I was hooked from my first few games. The idea of endlessly crafting powerful spell books, fighting other wizards with angels and monsters and demons, hurling incantations at one another was extremely appealing to a bored nine year-old who couldn't necessarily connect with his peers. The game opened up a new world to me in the form of literature: the game drew heavily on fantasy tropes, mythology, and cultural history. I became excited every game, wholly intent on describing to my teacher what I discovered: "Do you know what a Pegasus or a minotaur is? Did you know they come from Greek stories? What's an efreet? Is a bayou or a scrubland a real thing? How do you make brass? What's a golem?" I'm sure the innumerable questions I asked her probably drove her batty, but I was enamored with the worlds the card game was opening.

Aside from the cultural awakening I was experiencing, I was also making new friends who were much older than me. I was finally able to communicate with people who understood me as a person and wasn't bothered by my intellectual quirks. Kids my age wanted to play soccer or with dolls, but I couldn't really understand the joy in such activities. Mostly I wanted to read and learn, finding activities such as physical education and even recess to be irritating. Why take time out of my day when I could be exploring the world outside of Iowa through math and science and literature? I was finally able to find people who shared my same passions and not only treated me fairly, but encouraged me to ask questions. I had, in short, a plethora of role models, even if most of these role models were ostracized or looked down upon in their own environments.

One day, my parents decided that, since Magic: The Gathering had become such a huge part of their business's success (after deciding to sell cards of different games alongside hot dogs and arcade machines), they decided to hold a friendly tournament on a day when the arcade was normally closed: a Sunday.

It was a fateful decision.

Next door to the pharmacy and arcade was a small building that not too many people bothered to enter: a Christian bookstore. How the thing had managed to survive downtown for so many years, I could only guess. It must have had customers, but I rarely saw any enter or exit. The bookstore was owned by one of the most dreadful people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. I had never met this woman before, primarily because she was not a customer of my father's.

On the Saturday before the tournament, an anonymous young man entered the bookstore and stated that he was looking to purchase a necklace bearing the cross in order to "protect him from the demons" he was "summoning" from his "deck of spells" used at the tournament next door. The owner was appalled, naturally, and, seeing danger out of what was likely a harmless practical joke, escalated the situation and brought it to the attention of a group of radical Christians who commonly met weekly for an in-home Bible study in addition to their typical Sunday worship. Needless to say, they decided to picket my father's business and draw as much attention to the situation as possible. The local paper came across the street to investigate and paint a fun picture for the residents of the quiet town.

It was at this picketing, as I was sitting inside the pharmacy, reading a hilarious Weekly World News issue and waiting for my parents to close shop, that I encountered a practitioner of The Faith. Curious, I put down my magazine and walked outside to see what was going on. There, in the heat of the moment, a woman (the owner of the bookstore next door) pointed at me and claimed that I was "the son of the Devil". A few others chimed in and proceeded to yell at me about how I was bringing evil to the town and that it was my fault that "the youth" were "causing mischief" in the town and that I should "look to God" for answers.

As a nine year-old male with few developed coping skills, I couldn't handle the tone of these adults or understand the accusations that were brought upon my personage. It was a mortal betrayal and the first time I'd ever realized that adults could be irrational like children my age and that I couldn't rely on them to protect me. I think, at that point, I have come to internalize and manifest those words throughout my entire life. It's hard for me to not utterly loathe myself and I think that moment in my life was partly to blame for my ever-persistent lack of self-esteem and self-worth. It certainly wasn't the only reason -- there were many moments this idea was hammered into me by others and myself -- but it was certainly the beginning of a downward trend for the next decade.

Thankfully, the situation didn't end in complete misery. My father kowtowed to the mob and disbanded the tournament at the arcade, instead, cunningly, holding it in his own home. In our basement, approximately twenty teenagers came to my home and we played games to our heart's content. This, eventually, manifest into a weekly activity, and I grew up alongside several individuals who still remain very close friends, my best of friends, to this day. If it wasn't for the hatred espoused, I probably never would have grown up with Dungeons and Dragons, video games, television shows, or other activities that encouraged my imagination and brought joy into my heart by escaping the mundanity of small town Iowa.

So, in the beginning, all was not good, but it wasn't all that bad.

 Image courtesy of Melissa Danisi.