RANT FOR THE RECORD

A friend taunts me by sending an excerpt from an anti-Muslim screed by some shtrenge ferkrampte reformed church preacher.
[And by reformed church is meant Dutch Reformed.]

Not entirely by coincidence, it is by an author whom I had previously read, and rejected as being a heretic, member of one of the oompty-thousand unacceptable split-offs and schisms.

There is nothing worse than a Dutchman who is wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
[Especially when I am right.]


It's a social and cultural thing much more than a religious thing. But it's also part of Dutch Reformed Church culture, and hence dominates and pervades all Dutch life. Even among those who are not members of one of the oompty-thousand unacceptable split-offs and schisms.

The dislike of groups of other Dutch people, based on some minor difference or scarcely perceived deviation, manifests itself sometimes absurdly.

Such as several years ago having one newspaper for Catholic socialists, one newspaper for Protestant socialists, and one newspaper for atheist socialists. Plus one that disagreed with all of the above.

For several years there were so many split-offs from the Dutch communist party that none of them were represented in the government, despite all of them together comprising the largest voting block - they just couldn't stand each other.

Which is by no means unlike frumme Calvinists from the Dutch Bible belt, who sneer as they pass each other's churches, and don't shop at each others stores (even if they have to go to another village for their groceries). In order to avoid contamination by "them", you know.

Then there was the couple who ran the local porno-boutique in the town where we lived. They sent their children to a rigidly Calvinist grammar school twenty miles away. For fear that the little dears would be corrupted by rubbing shoulders with us heathens.


As the old saw has it, one Dutchman is a believer, two Dutchman are a congregation, and three Dutchmen means a schism.

There's the joke about the two Dutch-reformed shipwreck survivors on the deserted island: "This is my church, that's his church, and the third one over there is the one we both broke away from."


As a fluent speaker of Dutch, a descendant of Dutch settlers in New Amsterdam, having lived in the Netherlands for a portion of my life, and being an opinionated argumentative person besides, you can probably imagine what I think of that preacher whose words were forwarded. It isn't pretty.
He is the kind of person with whom I could probably have a splendid conversation (because of all of the things we have in common), but whom I would not want to ever pollute my house, and whom I would never introduce to my loved ones, my friends, or anyone I cared about or whose estimation I valued.

I am tempted to go into a rant about all the various branches of Calvinism, and how most of them consist of stark-raving demented Dutchmen, pathetic Dutchmen wannabes, or pussy Presbies who are little more than Anglo-lite.

But I shall not do so.