
In a summer at
'Jesus Camp,' there's no time to be a child
By Mary C. Curtis
October 16, 2006
McClatchy Newspapers
(MCT)
It came to me as I
proudly read about the American winners of Nobel
prizes in science. The children of "Jesus Camp" -
the documentary on a summer camp for Christian
evangelicals - will never have to worry about
writing a Nobel acceptance speech.
In a home-school
teaching session captured by the camera, a mom tells
her son that science doesn't prove anything. Global
warming is a myth. Evolution - well, you know. She
offers videos and textbooks to back up her
theological view of the world.
At the "Kids on
Fire" camp in Devil's Lake, N.D., a young boy admits
to questioning the existence of a God he can't see,
doubts any curious child might have. His questions
are met with certainty - not explanations. He
eventually repents, tearfully. I still can't figure
out what he did wrong.
I respect the
beliefs of the adults and children of "Jesus Camp,"
though I know from their words that they would not
return the favor. But I found myself squirming at
the images of children shaking and trembling and
speaking in tongues, on cue.
What happened to
the wonder and fun of childhood?
Do the young
warriors for Jesus understand why, as it's shouted
at them, the warlock Harry Potter would be killed in
Biblical times?
Do concepts of sin
and shame mean anything to a 5-year-old?
Do they know what
they have to be so guilty about?
A lot of the
children just look agitated.
One girl who hands
out Bible tracts to strangers in a bowling alley
(when she isn't praying for a strike) is one big
twitch. She judges that God prefers churches like
hers, where people jump around and shout, not
quieter "dead" churches.
I'm scared of and
for this girl most likely to develop stigmata. She
has already closed herself off to anyone who might
have a different point of view.
And she's only 9.
Youth minister
Becky Fischer single-mindedly trains her charges,
using props and toys to preach lessons about what it
means to be a good Christian. The mixing of politics
and religion only bothered me a little: the mouths
taped shut to silently protest abortion, the raucous
call-and-response for righteous judges.
Even the appearance
by President Bush, at least his cardboard stand-in,
seems more silly than serious.
Then a counselor
warns campers off bedtime ghost stories, and
giggling children turn silent. They don't look or
sound like children any more.
Their God is a
stern one, a deity to fear more than love.
His love is limited
to the chosen ones because, as a 12-year-old
preacher in training says, there's something not
quite right about the non-Christians he meets.
Gradually, the
children's world is being closed off, to science,
non-Christians, even the idea of a democratic
pluralistic America.
I have to believe
that the adults leading the way trust they are doing
the right thing.
But when I think
that these young people are the future of America,
well, all I want to do is pray.