I don’t believe in God.
I’d like to. But I don’t.
And I’m not entirely sure why you do.
I know a lot of people who believe in God. And I have no beef with them. And I’m truly not trying to convince them otherwise. Believe what you believe, embrace what you embrace. If it doesn’t harm society, why would I argue?
But this is my blog. My vent. And I don’t believe in God.
Many people speak of a loving and merciful God. Most of the people I know who speak of a loving and merciful God believe He oversees their lives. These people speak to God, reach out to God, pray to God. And they are fairly convinced He’s listening. And that, sometimes, He reaches out. You won’t know when. Or why. But He’ll reach out. It’s sort of like the Carrie Underwood song, “Jesus Take the Wheel.” A woman’s car is spinning on ice. She’s helpless, and puts her hands in the air, saying, “Jesus take the wheel.” She doesn’t die, she therefore knows—yet again—that Jesus loves her.
But about that boy in Africa …
You know the one. You read about him in the newspaper. He’s bleeding out of his eye sockets as you read this. His mother and father are dead of Ebola. His older sister will die next. Nobody comes near him, because they don’t want Ebola either. So he’s alone, age 8, dying.
But Jesus loves him.
Where is God for this kid? This kid’s family? Oh, right. God has a plan for all of us. If you just believe. And pray. There’s a purpose here. We just don’t see it. Especially from afar—in our SUV, with the TV screen in the back. But, believe you me, this happened by design. God’s plan. And if you pass God’s plan or test, hey, you go to heaven. No, Heaven. And if you fail, you spend eternity in hell. Or, apparently, your entire family bleeds from their eye sockets, then dies. But, really, God loves you. He does.
It infuriates me. Just as it infuriates me sitting in synagogue, listening to a rabbi talk about all the Biblical lessons, telling cute little stories about men named Moses and Abraham. Meanwhile, our home (the state of California) is going through a crippling drought that is, literally, drying the state. But let’s not worry about that. Let’s not work together to solve it. Thirsty? Grab a cup of water. Or two. Hell, let’s have … challah! Because challah solves everything.
Believe what you want. Seriously. Believe what you want. But it strikes me that organized religion, far too often, repeatedly talks old lessons without applying them to a new world. Or makes parishioners feel good about themselves by holding, oh, a canned food drive. Or an annual trip to work two hours at the food shelter. Meanwhile, don’t forget to place your dough in the hat. Every week.
I know this is a babble rant. I’m guilty. But I can’t handle it any longer. Ebola is eating people alive. Climate change is eating our planet alive. Drought is draining much of the world. Terrorism, illiteracy, poverty … on and on and on.
Then we attend church/synagogue/whatever, send our happy thoughts through prayer, talk to a God we sorta kinda maybe hopefully believe in, and, ultimately, have lunch and do nary a damned thing.