It was in 2nd year high school when during a seatwork time in our Christian Living Education class, I found myself penning questions on an essay paper, expressing my misgivings on a merciful God who allows all global afflictions and injustices to occur. My religion teacher responded by writing something like “He has his own good reasons for permitting all that.” It was an answer that left me more confused.
Now that I’m in my forties, I still am no different from the highschool girl who couldn’t help questioning the credibility of the God we were taught to worship. Then there’s this term agnostic – which definition keeps escaping my full comprehension. In my opinion: it’s either you believe or you don’t, isn’t it? If you’re somewhere in the middle, you might as well call yourself very confused.
There may be a God (and I say may) alright. But it’s probably far different from the one our human psyche has created. I can never forget the words of a famous blogger who once wrote, “Human Ego Knows No Bounds: God on Man’s Terms and Image.”
Recently, I’ve also had the privilege and pleasure of perusing the post of a brilliant young blogger whose personal canons on existentialism are quite similar to mine. If you have the time, read what he has to say on his blog. Aside from being an exquisite writer, he’s one of the most sensible people I’ve ever met online.
I’ve read in several instances, too, how God is defined as, fundamentally, the Love we feel in our hearts. That makes more sense to me. Love for one another is uplifting and beautiful, which is basically what a good God represents and promotes.
I guess severe agonies and adversities induced by happenings in our realm must call for more profound and divine explanations – even if we have to invent them ourselves. How many men and women who had decided to subscribe to church doctrines did so because they couldn’t endure the emptiness of their existence; their soul having been in search of a Higher Power that would define their purpose, that would give them strength. They claim they would have gone mad attempting to rationalize all the senseless crimes, inequalities, heart-crushing tragedies taking place everywhere.
That we are no different from other animal species who can be extinguished by various circumstances anytime is unbearable for most people. Scientific truths, point-blank realities will never do because we believe we are so much more than solid matter constituting of flesh, blood and brain.
Now let me add here my conviction about death. The end of our lives – which is the ultimate destination – leads to total and absolute nothingness. Why is it so hard for our colossal egos to accept that? What makes us think we humans are an exception? We will all die. Goodluck to all those who refuse to acknowledge this plain truth: Everything is meant to end and Death makes sure that will happen for each one of us. All our senses, consciousness will fade away with it. Our bodies will merely turn into dust.
Yet it’s easier to discern and welcome the demise of the stars in heaven, and the fact that animals perish mercilessly, and that all objects made up of quarks submit to their respective expiration periods. When it comes to our own Being, though, our own essences bowing to extinction – no, it can’t be. We are too important to just die and be gone forever.
Highly educated, well-accomplished people being brainwashed by religions created by dingbats who originally came from nowhere continue to perplex me. What’s more, they insist their impregnable ideologies must be spread throughout for the salvation of every soul upon death. Then, the ones that couldn’t be converted get labeled as belonging to the side of the demons or worse, just plain morons who have lined-up for eternal damnation.
By reason of my jumbled thoughts on spirituality, I do suffer emotionally and am in torment every now and then. My spirit isn’t so strong as to brave my sorrows all the time. Yet it’s my choice. I’d rather be subjected to feelings of an acutest pain than force myself in surrendering to some ecclesiastical denomination my mind would continually struggle to embrace.
My son, who had been schooled in private Catholic institutions, goes to church and hears mass without fail on Sundays. Didn’t I tell you my boy is, in many respects, a finer individual than me? I’ve encouraged him to hold on to his sacred practices. He and I never talk about my “heretical theories” and it’s a relief he doesn’t seem to want to know. Because I am hoping he may be spared from the insufferable planes his mother has gone through in life; trusting his faith will somehow shelter him from the miseries undergone by citizens of a godless world.