Religion seems to be doing the rounds at the moment. Jonathan’s talking about it, so is Libertine. and damn me if Jane isn’t at it too.
Oh, well, my turn I guess.
At the ripe old age of 7, I announced to anyone who would listen that I didn’t believe in God. I came to this conclusion fairly logically. I had already figured out that Santa Claus was a myth and so too, was the tooth fairy. Happy ever after was strictly reserved for Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. Magic slippers and frogs who turned into princes were just stories. Magic isn’t real.
Yet I was being expected to accept that a woman can be impregnated by an angel and give birth to a child. That child would perform miracles; bringing people back from the dead, turning water into wine, and ultimately rising himself from the dead before physically ascending into the heavens.
Er, what was that about glass slippers and pumpkin coaches? To my 7 year old mind, why should one set of fairy tales be true and the others not?
I tried. I really did. My peers went to Sunday School and church. So too, did I. I even went to confirmation classes and eventually was confirmed. Even while serving at services, I knew deep in my heart that I didn’t believe.
It came to a head when I was 15 and my parents moved to North Wales. The change in environment meant that I no longer had peer pressure to contend with. My parents were never religious, so the pressure never came from them. I attended one service in a Welsh chapel (in Welsh) and that was it; I finally accepted my lack of belief for what it was. I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in gods – any gods. Yahweh is no different to Apollo, Odin or Ra. They are all invented by people who needed something to explain the unexplainable. The writings make interesting literature – just as does Arthurian legend. But I don’t believe that, either.
So what does this confession tell us? For me it means that I am comfortable with who I am and what I believe. I do not share many atheists’ nihilistic belief that we are nothing more than neutrons and electrons and that consciousness is merely a series of electrical impulses. I really do believe we are more than the sum of our parts. But what is that? Ah, now there’s the rub.
I’ve never understood how ‘educated’ people can believe in a bunch of ‘fairy stories’ which have been written and re-written over the centuries by scribes, monks and all the rest to suit their own ends.John
It’s a funny thing. I was talking with a friend and she wondered if my desire to go to church and be part of a religious community was actually me being lonely and wanting to be with others. She was right. Plus, the desire to be accepted, to be approved of and a way of keeping back fears, doubts and worries.
I am not religious.
I would say I’m an Agnostic not because I fear the wrath of God(s) but because I still wish to believe in something, however vague, not out of a sense of a divine reward but because it would be nice to know something ‘up and out there’ gave a shit.
Call it wishful thinking, call it what you like. I do have a need to believe but I have learned from experience that this cannot be satisfied by going to a building or belonging to a group, no matter how many people are subscribed.Visit me @ http://iridescence.blog-city.com/
Although this doesn’t change my opinion, and most likely not yours – I read somewhere [the hell if I can find it now] that Mary’s “immaculate conception” was not that she was impregnated without sex [she was married to Joseph after all] but rather it was the first child completely born without sin.
The child was immaculate in its conception, not that the conception was immaculate.
I say “whatever” but thought you might find that bit interesting.Visit me @ http://www.coffeeandvarnish.com
[Longrider replies] The version I heard recently was that “virgin” before translation merely meant “maiden” or young woman rather than not having had intercourse. Both variants make more sense than the traditional interpretations.