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Today, I don't know what to do about religion.
This morning I watched the Bill Maher segment on "Jesus Camp" and everyone who was talking was scaring me. The insistence that belief in religion was schizophrenic was there, that a belief that God is talking to you is just not possible (because, there is no God, or he doesn't talk, so you must be a wacko). On the other side, there was the insistence that Christianity is "radical," because it's not normal to "lay down your life for a friend" (when?), and that Christians "don't have the freedom" not to proclaim the "Word of God" (TM). There was one moderate there, who was dark-skinned, Indian looking, I don't know him, but I'm sure that's part of why they picked him. He got the last word about how moderates should make themselves heard over the voices of the extremists (speaking of Muslims and Christians) and that no faith actually based itself on violence. Of course, there was very little about what he actually believed, or thought moderates believed.
Of course, I'm a Pagan, because I'm trying to be true to the Divine Spark inside ME, and also to find a way that is as respectful as possible of all that I affect, spiritual, physical, and possibly not even believing there's a real separation between the two. (As John says, "Is everything sacred?!)
But, today is Halloween, right? It's the day for spooky chills and giving in to thoughts of death, graves, those who have passed, and the spirits that (may) walk the night. So I had retired to the bath with Son of Rosemary, a book I rescued from the salvage bin in the interest of cheap thrills. And while I'm doing that, the doorbell rings and it's the religious types, with a pamphlet about the end times and False Religions. Somehow I'm sure the visit was related to the two jack-o-lanterns flanking the front door. Or maybe it's the "FAE 0NE" license plate. Too bad I didn't have any pentacles other than on the hand that was clutching my bathrobe closed. Fortunately, my near-nudity seemed to save me from any nice chats with the evangelicals.
I guess, like the politicians, they're really trying to reach the undecideds, not actually convert.
In the end, though, it's all smoke and mirrors. I don't know what happens when I die. I think that there's something besides biochemistry running me. I believe in virtue, and the powers of humor, courtesy, love, art, and honor. I want to hear from God(dess) but I seem to have lost something in the maelstrom of holy wars and dire predictions. I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.
I guess it's Halloween indeed.
This morning I watched the Bill Maher segment on "Jesus Camp" and everyone who was talking was scaring me. The insistence that belief in religion was schizophrenic was there, that a belief that God is talking to you is just not possible (because, there is no God, or he doesn't talk, so you must be a wacko). On the other side, there was the insistence that Christianity is "radical," because it's not normal to "lay down your life for a friend" (when?), and that Christians "don't have the freedom" not to proclaim the "Word of God" (TM). There was one moderate there, who was dark-skinned, Indian looking, I don't know him, but I'm sure that's part of why they picked him. He got the last word about how moderates should make themselves heard over the voices of the extremists (speaking of Muslims and Christians) and that no faith actually based itself on violence. Of course, there was very little about what he actually believed, or thought moderates believed.
Of course, I'm a Pagan, because I'm trying to be true to the Divine Spark inside ME, and also to find a way that is as respectful as possible of all that I affect, spiritual, physical, and possibly not even believing there's a real separation between the two. (As John says, "Is everything sacred?!)
But, today is Halloween, right? It's the day for spooky chills and giving in to thoughts of death, graves, those who have passed, and the spirits that (may) walk the night. So I had retired to the bath with Son of Rosemary, a book I rescued from the salvage bin in the interest of cheap thrills. And while I'm doing that, the doorbell rings and it's the religious types, with a pamphlet about the end times and False Religions. Somehow I'm sure the visit was related to the two jack-o-lanterns flanking the front door. Or maybe it's the "FAE 0NE" license plate. Too bad I didn't have any pentacles other than on the hand that was clutching my bathrobe closed. Fortunately, my near-nudity seemed to save me from any nice chats with the evangelicals.
I guess, like the politicians, they're really trying to reach the undecideds, not actually convert.
In the end, though, it's all smoke and mirrors. I don't know what happens when I die. I think that there's something besides biochemistry running me. I believe in virtue, and the powers of humor, courtesy, love, art, and honor. I want to hear from God(dess) but I seem to have lost something in the maelstrom of holy wars and dire predictions. I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.
I guess it's Halloween indeed.
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