God, Guns, and Country - Western Idaho

It starts innocently enough, at a roadside market outside of White Bird - this brush with Idaho's religious right. It's a Saturday morning, with mom, pop, and teen daughter working the summer crowds. Dad's accent is pure homegrown: "The cherry bags are open, ma'am - try one. These are good cucumbers, sir -have a sample. Spoonful of local honey?" Everyone - family, tourists, and locals - are all extremely well scrubbed. I'm even more grateful for my quick bath/skinny-dip in the Salmon River this morning.

Way in the background play old fashioned, soothing songs of my youth: Walk with Me, Lord; I Saw the Light; Rock of Ages. On the shelves, not only local products made with potatoes (lotion!) and huckleberries (barbeque sauce; jam; vinegar; leather - you name it) but also a selection of books such as, "Idaho's Individualists and Hermits" (featuring Wheelbarrow Annie, child of the Depression), maps and souvenirs, flowering plants and berry bushes, blackberry sodas... pleasant browsing, in other words - ending inevitably in too large a purchase; but worth it for pure entertainment value.

I leave with a bottle of that huckleberry barbeque sauce as a gift for someone, sometime down the road, and lots of local fruit. A smile on my face - this is IDAHO, man!There are lots of rafters on the Salmon River, sunburned blonds, motor homes (none so old as Ethel, my trusty steed).

About an hour on down US Hwy 95, past White Bird, there is a peculiar sign: Highway Litter control by... wait did I really see the words "Yahweh...666...Warning"?. Dang! Wish I'd seen that in time to stop. (Stopping on a whim is NOT Ethel's strong suit.) A photo would've been good, but what did the sign really say, anyway? Oh well. Then, a few miles later, another of the signs - "Yahweh's 666 Warning Assembly" picks up litter here, and apparently the assembly is powerfully concerned that area highways be kept clean. Again, though, the sighting comes a little too late.

As I'm debating whether it's worth the considerable trouble involved in turning Ethel around to go back and shoot the photo, I see the Compound. Whoa, Ethel! I don't care HOW far down the road I have to go to turn around.

Five minutes later I'm back, parked across the road because I'm too cowardly to turn down the drive to the compound - even though the sign clearly says "Welcome." I run across the highway and into the tall weeds on the compound side. Safely at a distance, I snap away. Seems safe enough... okay, I'll venture down the driveway. (I can certainly run away faster than I can turn Ethel around!)

Towering pines shade the road, offering relief from the blistering sun and somehow encouraging my exploration. Anyway, the shot is much better from here. Snap snap snap. A horse whinnies gently from somewhere inside the fence. "Allah is Satan" hmmm... would a Unitarian Universalist really be welcome here? I'm doubting it. "Burn your religious literature here". Well, maybe...

A low, tuneful whistle wafts over the fence. It's one of those gospel songs from the roadside market. Wait - it's all right to whistle in praise of Jesus, but not okay to read the Bible? Does the whistler know I'm here? Ethel must be clearly visible from inside the gates. I'm a little spooked. Okay, chicken. I grab a folded flyer with handwriting all over it ("Take one!") and hightail it back up the drive. Maybe this isn't the best place for me to have a frank discussion about religion.

Climbing back into Ethel and laboriously turning her around towards Boise, I remember a radio program I was listening to as I barreled up a back road in Oregon last week. It was a call-in show, apparently a daily feature of the Family Radio Network. The man chatting with callers said he'd been "in the service of the Lord" for over 70 years (quick mental math on that one - he didn't say how old he was when he began, but let's say 20...).

Apparently, the host was at one time associated with unnamed "mainstream" religious organizations; but he has since come to understand that only the Bible is the Word of God and that all organized denominations and creeds have everything wrong. Through extensive study of the Word, he came to know that May 21, 2011 will be the day of the Rapture on Earth, followed by the several-month period of Tribulation for those of us who don't subscribe to this particular interpretation of God's Word, followed by...well, I was in shock and don't remember the rest of the details. My mind was spinning:

Somehow he got the EXACT DATE of the Rapture - he, and he alone, by just READING THE BIBLE (heavy on the Old Testament and Revelations, I gather). And he's on (owns?) a radio network that puts him on every weekday afternoon to spread this news (to FAMILIES!): essentially that you won't need to worry about anything after May of 2011 - IF you adhere to HIS interpretation of GOD'S WORD, that is. (UUs - among others - have PLENTY to worry about!) Callers who tried to question his interpretations were summarily cut off, his tone dripping condescension for their ignorance and pity for the fate that awaits them. Many callers, however, fell all over themselves to express their gratitude for his enlightenment. Who ARE these people, I found myself wondering, and do they really let their CHILDREN listen to this? But I digress...

Turned South again on US 95, tracking the Salmon River through west-central Idaho, no good (or otherwise) radio stations coming in, I reflect on the need for religious belief. Over the past year or two I've done a lot of reflecting in this vein; and I can relate, in a way, to both Yahweh man and the radio host. That is, I too disdain organized religion and tend toward somewhat eccentric beliefs about "what it's all about". But I don't understand - at all - the people who follow these (or any) religious leaders. What can they be Thinking?!

After a couple of hours of reflecting and wheel-wrestling, I pass through Donnelly, Idaho, speed limit 25. I've noticed there's an inverse relationship between the size of the town and its maximum speed limit. Larger places, you can breeze through at 45 (or on the freeway); but places with a couple of markets and no visible population take you down to 45, then 35, then 25, as though to make sure you know they're there.

Donnelly (speed limit 25), on this Saturday afternoon, however, is jammed with parked cars for blocks. The town's one restaurant has a marquee sign: NRA Benefit Dinner Today. That's National Rifle Association, for you Southern California urbanites. The benefit dinner seems to be a smashing success. Other than tourism, then, what I know about western Idaho can be summed up as God and Guns. No surprise, but still I wonder what the two have in common. They're so commonly associated...

Every small town in Idaho has one or more churches (you can take in a lot at 25 mph); and it's only another 30 miles or so down the road that I see something I want to add to the Gods and Guns formulation. One church marquee reads "Support God and Country". Right - Patriotism; another favorite of the God and Guns crowd. But I wonder: why is it that God needs support? And also, what does Country have to do with God? Did God divide the world that He created on the - what - 2nd and 3rd days? (Bible Man would know) -did He divide the earth into nations? And are some of those nations - well, really, just the one - more deserving of support than all the others? Again - what are these people thinking? Well, they're not, of course - not in any rigorously logical way. They're feeling. But what are they feeling? Maybe it's not simple; but what emotion leads one to mindless support of God, Guns, and Country? Perhaps the dominant emotion is fear - fear of death, of annihilation, at the hand of God, or at the hands of others.

And we humans like to bond. We bond over God, over Guns, over Country. And sometimes we bond over our bafflement at those who bond over those things. Which leads me to BUUF.

I've decided to "worship" at as many UU churches and fellowships as possible. This Sunday I'm in the Boise area, so Boise UU Fellowship it is. Besides, there's no budget for RV parks, and churches are known, in the mobile world that I'm now part of, to be friendly places to stay overnight. Since my Internet connection has been spotty, it wasn't until Friday afternoon that I emailed the Boise Fellowship to ask if I could park in their lot Saturday night. Unsurprisingly - it being summer, after all - I didn't hear back; and I remembered the old dictum that "silence implies consent."

The Boise Fellowship has a nice facility, with especially lovely grounds - including a stone labyrinth that I will walk Sunday night at dusk. When the worship coordinator arrives Sunday morning, I greet him, coffee in hand, and explain who I am and what I'm doing on this tour. He's a perfect UU - used to belong to the Santa Clarita congregation - and graciously announces my presence and mission during the service, resulting in a probable screening of "Preacher's Sons" for the congregation in the fall.

But the service itself is what redeems Idaho for me (well, that and the beautiful scenery - thank you God!). There's the familiar sharing of Joys and Sorrows, followed by a lengthy Zen-style meditation, wrapped in Japanese flute music and songs from the familiar hymnal. Looking around the room, I could have been in any UU group anywhere. I'm among my people, who share - at least to some extent - my quirky understanding of Spirit. Hallelujah! Praise Spirit for Unitarian Universalists!