9) No rock-n-roll music. That was of the devil. Such music was seen to encourage teenage rebellion and fornication. Well, regardless, I think teenage rebellion and fornication had been in vogue long before such music. Now, one might not be punished for county-and-western music, that was a matter of differing opinion, but the rock stuff was a no-go: bad, bad, bad. Merle Haggard, okay, Grand Funk Railroad, no.
10) Obey your parents. Interestingly, no one addressed the matter of when an offspring was old enough not to obey a parent, nor was the matter of, say, "Do you obey a parent who tells you to break into the neighbor's home when they are out, to steal jewelry so the parent can sell it on the black market?" Seems such would have been important enough to address, apparently no one did judge it likewise as I.
This is a sampling of rules. And our God could get upset by any violation of these rules, or those not listed here, but we were lucky, some would say. We did not have to go to a priest, we could go directly to God with our I'm-sorry-I-did-this list and plead the Judge for grace and mercy, and with at least mercy ~ I was told meaning not to get what I deserved ~ due sentence and punishment ~, even if not by grace alone, there was much hope. Still, even after being forgiven, we could get a painful God-spanking. I was told God punished me, for he loved me. I wonder why love and punitive pain have to go together. Weird.
And, I ask you, "Is the Love we long for, both to know for others and ourselves, found by keeping the rules?" And, so... "Is there a Grace that lifts us together from obsession with the acculturated 'dos' and 'don'ts'?" Last... "Is it possible to see the other beyond being right or being wrong, with the pure eyes of Life, and feel a love free of seeing myself as right, holy, or in any way better than the other?"
* * *
Now, about that no fishing on the Sabbath; that is, Sunday and the Sabbath. I went to visit kinfolk in Louisiana. My second cousin ~ several decades older than I ~ decided to take me fishing. My cousin, her three children (not kids), and I all loaded up and drove away. The fishing site was lovely. A beautiful, sunny Sunday. I refused to fish, telling them I had been taught fishing on Sunday is wrong. My cousin protested, explaining how it was not wrong, urging me to fish. She tried to reason with me. I refused. They enjoyed fishing that day, I watched. My cousin, rightly, considered it weird that one was forbidden to fish on Sunday. She was Catholic, I assumed Catholics must not agree on this matter with Baptists. I appreciate my kinfolk did not put some big "Oh! that's so stupid" trip on me, I appreciate they enjoyed the fishing. I enjoyed the scenery. But my cousin, she sure did make it known, more so through facial expression, that the "No fishing on Sunday" rule was odd, even unbelievable. She seemed stunned. That, to her, made no common sense. Frankly, it did not to me, but that was the rule. So, even if the rule makes no sense, you still obey it, and you hide that you think it makes no sense. See, God did not have to make any common sense at all, indeed no sense, for God was God. What right, it seemed, did we paltry, petty sinners have to entertain a single ounce of doubting any of the rules of our religion, or to question that it might be about our religion and not God? And did God give the Catholics a permission slip to fish on Sunday, while we Baptists were held to a higher standard? Let us move on, this is getting too metaphysical, I am getting ontological claustrophobia.