The religion I grew up in strongly implied that the world as we know it would end in 1975. That date came and went and the most traumatic thing that happened was that MaryAnn Kozinski failed to appreciate my great potential as a suitor.
The message from the leadership shifted to say that if people had pinned their hopes on a particular date, well that was their problem, not God’s, but that in any case the world would be transformed just any year now. None of my friends went to college after graduating—what was the point?
It wasn’t long before I decided that this world is the one we’re stuck with, for better or for worse, and that I should just get busy doing what I can to make it a better place. But a whole lot of the people I grew up with are still out there waiting, waiting, waiting…In their eyes, I lacked faith. They probably assumed that I just wanted to go out and whoop it up rather than wait for God to do his thing.
I remember sometime before 1975 asking my mother, “What if nothing happens in 1975?” She wouldn’t even consider the hypothetical. It just couldn’t work out that way, so why even let the mind entertain the idea? She’s now in her 80s, still faithful as can be, still fretting over my waywardness.