Dear Reverend Langer-Langer: Why so many divergent Christian faiths? Isn’t there only one true Jesus, and all that? Signed, Unsure.
Dear Unsure: First, it’s Reverend Doctor Langer-Langer. Watch your tone with me.
Second, there are so many different Christian ministries that an outsider would have to assume that it’s a jobs program for anti-Catholics. Much of it truly is…
I recommend reading to give yourself perspective, from a person who abhorred religion in general. “A World Lit Only by Fire,” by the late esteemed historian William Manchester, published in 1992. He covers the Middle Ages, from the fall of Rome to Magellan circumnavigating the globe, in about 320 pages. Manchester wasn’t perfect and he had a few detractors, but he told history without the varnish and reading his work is a worthy of your time. Manchester is an American treasure.
I invite you to get the book and then draw your own conclusions. The Reformation was brought on because of institutional rot and, hence, the germination of many Christian-touting faiths. No pun intended.
In our era of “if-it-feels-good-do-it” there will always be something for everyone. Everyone willing to compromise, that is. The Christ’s message was never about doing what feels good.
Faith is a personal thing, so go ahead and pick one. I hope you find peace. Most people are just hedging their bets, anyway.
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Dear Rev Dr Langer-Langer: Why the hyphen between the same name? Your parents related? And what’s with Pickle? Signed, Why?
Dear Why: No, my parents were not related before their marriage. A pox on you and your inbred family for even thinking that. The Langers (pater) have a proud history in religious ministry. The Langers (mater) are world renowned physicians. I am the best of both.
Philistine!
Pickle was my grandmother’s (mater-Langer) Schnauzer. Nanny Moo-Moo (as she was affectionately called by a legion of friends and relatives) loved that dog. Pickle didn’t shed, didn’t bite, didn’t bark, and for the life of me I never saw it poop.
When she passed, Pickle, that is, Nanny Moo-Moo had a stroke. When she passed, Nanny Moo-Moo, not Pickle, my sainted mother Langer knew that her only child, me, would have to carry on her mother’s unique name, but Hildegard did not lend itself to the masculine. Pickle it is, my middle name.
As both parents made their respective professional mark back in the day it was decided before my birth that I would bear both names… hence, Langer-Langer. I am proudly Vincent Pickle Langer-Langer.
Vincent was my father’s barber. A very nice man who smelled like Vitalis. The barber, not my father, that is.