Who Is This God Person Anyway? (237 hits)
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Submitted by Oolon Colluphid (View user info) at 2006-01-03 07:19:32 EST
http://kormos.ca/sunshine/ontology.php
I know what you're going to ask. Perhaps that's overstating it. I don't actually "know" per se, but I can certainly fathom a guess. You're wondering why "god" in the title is the only word not capitalized, right? I'll get to that soon enough . . .
I should clarify that I'm a recovering Catholic, which means that I was a Catholic because my parents were. Just the luck of the draw, I guess. However, since I've been of age to think for myself (a novel idea, since they nab you when you're still at the nipple) I've considered myself agnostic, which is not to be confused with atheistic. I'm not against religion -- I just can't see a place for it in my own life.
First I would like to ponder aloud about this invention we call religion, venture a guess at its roots, and try to find a tidy little shelf in which to place it (not disimilar to my sock drawer).
My best guess as to the origins of religion, of the belief in a being, presence or power outside ourselves, probably began when we began to walk upright and think as a species. As our social skills developed, we developed personal relationships with those around us; other people, something outside ourselves, began to matter.
So when "Bob", the villiage spear-sharpener, (his real name could not be pronounced by modern tongues) was trampled to death by a rampaging pack of "those big furry things with the horns," we lost more than the guy who knew the secret to making our stones cut stuff real good. We also lost the guy who used to make us all laugh at his antics after he drank yak's milk that had fermented in the sun for 3 days.
However, we lacked the skills to understand the transformation that the big B had taken, shouting and stumbling one minute; decomposing sack of flesh the next (and beginning to take on a terrible smell).
Where had Bob gone???
That's an important question that we must certainly have asked each other. The problem is that it implies an answer. Somewhere . . . He can't have gone nowhere, could he?
So first someone suggested that he had defected to the next village. That was quickly dismissed, since nobody else would put up with him like we did. Then someone said he must've needed a vacation, but was reminded of the stiff greenish thing on the ground that bore an uncanny resemblance to our absent pal. Then someone who must've had some clout (or balls) to suggest it, said,
I know! He's up in the sky,
where it's blue, and warm, and the air is fresh
(unlike down here).
This would've met with a fair amount of criticism. But since we didn't have any better ideas, it must be right.
Thus the concept of the soul took shape, followed (I believe) with the answer to the question, "If Bob's up in the sky now, how did he get down here to begin with?"
And so, god was born.
Perhaps you think I make light of death. I suppose I do, but not because I lack compassion or am myself immune from losing those around me. I accept death as a reality that we must all, eventually, face. Death surrounds us. Those we love, no matter how much we would prefer to believe otherwise, will cease to be. We, ourselves, will expire. It's only a matter of time.
If, when my time comes, those close to me are not able to view my death as I do, simply another stage of my life, a technicality that should not overshadow who I was or what I did while I was alive, then I will have failed my deepest desire -- to accept and help others accept the trivialness of death.
That is, I think, where religion comes in. It's there to reassure us that this life is not all there is in store for us, and comfort those with well-intended (although misguided) attempts to give structure to the apparent chaos; to create form, as Aristotle called it, from mere chance.
If we accept that (in the great scheme of things) our time is but the blink of an eye and don't ask ourselves loaded questions like "why was I born?" or "what colour is god's hair?" then the need for religion and belief in the supernatural simply vanishes.
I'm not suggesting that we shouldn't ask ourselves the big questions; only the ones that can't, conceivably, be answered. Otherwise, we're just wasting our already limitted time.
So chin up. Forget, for the moment, your fate. Try to see life as your one shot.
What you choose to do with it is entirely up to you . . .
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