My religious views tend to be...oh, not quite the standard operational western variety. I mention this because I had a discussion last night about this very topic-and found that I had a hard time articulating exactly what it was I did believe.
So, here's me, religion, god (or if you prefer, God), spirituality, (ir)reverence, yin/yang, and perhaps a little hoo-doo thrown in, just to keep the hellhounds off my trail.
I was born a small black child...no that joke's been used already...I was actually born into the Church of England, though for the majority of my early childhood, we really didn't do much with church.
My first recollections of going to church were in South Carolina, at which time I was expected to go to Sunday School, and sing in the choir. I was prepared to sing in the choir, because they promised me free soda. Everything has a price.
To say I was unimpressed with my initial exposure is a bit of an understatement. Though I do remember going to a synagogue on some kind of cross-faith Sunday school venture, and thinking that Judaism might be the thing for me, as I wouldn't have to give up my Sundays. The notion that the Saturday trade off might not be a winner didn't occur to me at the time, I just knew that there had to be better things to do with my time than spending hours hearing about some chap no one could see, that supposedly went around fixing what to me, even then, seemed like a pretty messed up place. Frankly I felt this god fellow wasn't doing a very good job, and perhaps someone should start looking at either replacing him, or at the very least hiring an administrative assistant or something.
Fast forward a few years to England-I never actually attended church regularly at St.Wilfrids' (the local church in the village), but on the plus side, I did become a bell-ringer. I have to say, learning how to work the ropes in the belfry was great fun for a curious 12 year old. We learned how to strike the hour, and more impressively, how to do rounds. Très cool.
After my return stateside, there really was no further family push to get me into religion. I think they'd arrived at the conclusion that either the boy was going to find "it" on his own, or he wouldn't, but pushing him would just annoy him and cause the heels to be dug in harder. This was correct on the parental units part.
So I wandered forward in my godless, oblivious fashion, not asking too many questions, and not seeking any answers, until...and this is kind of funny...I got my first copy of Jethro Tull's Aqualung. I reproduce the liner notes for your pleasure (and certainly infringe on someone's copyright)
1 In the beginning Man created God; and in the image of Man created he him.
2 And Man gave unto God a multitude of names,that he might be Lord of all
the earth when it was suited to Man.
3 And on the seven millionth day Man rested and did lean heavily on his God and saw that it was good.
4 And Man formed Aqualung of the dust of the ground, and a host of others likened unto his kind.
5 And these lesser men were cast into the void; And some were burned, and some were put apart from their kind.
6 And Man became the God that he had created and with his miracles did rule over all the earth.
7 But as all these things came to pass, the Spirit that did cause man to create his God lived on within all men: even within Aqualung.
8 And man saw it not.
9 But for Christ's sake he'd better start looking.
Well this just changed my whole ballgame. Here was someone articulating a lot of what I felt, even if I had failed to explain it to even myself. The entire organized religion just seemed like a way to keep everyone in line, and really has f-all to do with the real meat and potatoes of god, a supreme being, spiritual truth or what have you.
The notion that an all knowing God would pick a small tribe in the middle east as his favorites, is silly. And while we're at it, so are the following. Having a son, so he can be whacked up on a chunk of wood, thus making everyone forgiven for the naughtiness, or talking to an Arab gent, and later having him ride a horse up a beam of light into heaven. It's daft. Eight armed gods in India, flying spaghetti monsters on the internet, sun gods pulling chariots across the sky *sigh*. It is all hooey to me.
But yet...if you ask me if I think there is some god, or spirit, I will answer in the affirmative. I certainly don't pretend to know it's nature, but I think it is safe to say that it is not a direct intercessor. I think that people are rewarded for good deeds, and ultimately, be it cosmically, or in the material world, punished for being schmucks.
In my conversation, we touched upon prayer, and whether or not I thought it was a good thing or bad thing. I think it can't hurt, particularly if it makes you feel better. I'm not sure that god is going to fulfill a wishlist, but again, with the karmic thing, I think if you are working hard enough, and hoping hard enough for the RIGHT thing, you just might find that things turn unexpectedly your way. And I suppose that is at least a mild endorsement for the power of prayer.
As I look back over what I've written above, I could go back and change a few things, but I'm not going to. I meant no offence to those who do believe in chosen people, sacrificed sons, or magical horse rides, but felt I have to be true to me, and express my own serious reservations about those things. I think they're fantastical stories meant to woo the masses with their miraculous nature. And I'm not buying at that deli counter.
On an unrelated side note, I've been listening to my blog's name sake LP while typing this. I must state it clearly: Exile On Main Street is the greatest rock and roll album ever. Period. No room for argument, cram your Beatles, Dylan, Nirvana, or anyone else you want to throw out there. They just aren't in the picture.
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