Pavlov's Dog

I was involved in a behavioral conditioning experiment as a child. It centered around Sunday School and Church. I didn't want to go. My brother, who was even less likely to spend time behind a pulpit, wasn't interested either. I complained bitterly. It was a battle every Sunday to get us prepared to go worship.

It wasn't that the Sunday school ladies weren't nice. They provided a snack and did their best to make Jesus and God fun. It was the praying with my eyes closed that bothered me. Talking to someone with my eyes shut didn't seem or feel right. Plus, why couldn't you pray with your eyes open? I think I figured that one out. It would have seemed more ridiculous and funny that way. Catch the eye of the wrong person and it would be over. However, the teachers told us that God heard every word and saw all that we did. Kind of like Santa Clause I thought, except not nearly as jovial. This God could strike you down if you weren't careful.

Then, when I discovered Sunday school was just a warmup act for the big event, the regular church service, it brought me down. The loud organ playing, the mysterious scriptures, the horrible hymns - all fodder for me to protest even more. I couldn't relate to the sermons. Plus, one day I caught our minister taking a long drag from a cigarette in the alley behind our church. I wasn't sure but thought it might be a sin. I asked my dad about it. Smoking wasn't a sin he said, just a bad habit. I took that to heart. When I became engaged in questionable activities I reassured myself they weren't sins, only bad habits.

In time, my parents began taking us to a nearby restaurant after church service. I would get a warm sweet roll and chocolate milk every time. Slowly over time I began to think religion really wasn't so bad. And, whenever my parents mentioned Sunday school or church my mouth watered at the thought.