Thursday, November 12, 2009

I Hate God

            I hate god.  Well, not really.  It’s not that I hate the idea of there being a god.  I hate what people do with their gods.

I’m an atheist.  I don’t believe in god. 

I used to pray multiple times a day.  I used to keep a spiritual journal, in which I wrote to god every day.  I used to go to spiritual direction, at least once a month, in which I searched to find god in the thoughts, emotions, and actions of my life.  I used to say the Mass every day (or as picky, prickly priests were apt to point out: pray the Mass).  I used to counsel others to find god in their lives, especially in their suffering and in the inexplicable tragedies of life.  There had to be redemption somewhere, somehow.

I was on the wrong path.  I was serving not some all-loving god, but the Christian god, a god that has been polluted by millennia of political posturing, theological one-upsmanship, philosophical debatetribal agenda, racial scapegoatism, and psychological projection

For forty days, I’ve been venting my anger, my hatred, and I’ve realized that so much of what triggers my ire comes back to the hateful, horrendous things that people do in the names of their gods.  How can they know the minds of the gods, the depths of the infinite and universal mysteries?  To claim this knowledge is the ultimate human heresy: to play god.

So while I don’t believe in god, I do believe in false gods.  They are to be seen everywhere, inflicting violence upon those different from themselves and hording wealth in fear of the great void toward which none will escape: death.

Fear of death is the main reason many people believe in god.  There has to be something, some sort of life, something in which to hope beyond the great dark void of death.  If there’s a god, then there can be life after death: immortality.  If not, then what happens?  Where does our consciousness go?  It’s too much to bear.

Fear of being unloved is another reason to believe in god.  There has to be someone out there who loves us unconditionally, who knows each of us completely, and who accepts each of us for who we are.   Of course, for that to happen, for god to love us in this way, it only makes sense that god created us in god’s image.  For what is the greatest love of all, but learning to love one’s self?

To believe in god because one is afraid of death, of being unloved, of being condemned, or of being alone is simply a fight or flight response, not some elevated decision of faith.

Ultimately, no one knows what happens after death.  I, for one, don’t feel the need any more to believe in a god that will raise me up to a communal, heavenly feast for all eternity in order to assuage my fear of death.  What I fear most is leaving a path of destruction, hurt, and meaninglessness behind me when I die.

Death, I welcome.  Not today, not tomorrow, and hopefully not for years to come, but someday, I do want this life to end; for life, as beautiful and pleasurable as it is, is also excruciating, and aging, with its erosion of mind and body, will come to us all in the end.  And who wants to live in a universe of mental confusion and physical anguish?  Ultimately, the frailty of life will be each person’s salvation.

The key to life is frailty.  We are all frail.  Our world, our environment, our relationships, our psyches, and our bodies are all frail.  I don’t need to believe in god to recognize this frailty, to respect and reverence it, and stand in awe of it.  In a sense, the ultimate mysteries of the universe—life, death, creation—they are all frail.  They can be manipulated.  Religion at its best would respect that frailty, but I have yet to encounter a religion, a god, that does this.

So, I do not believe in god.  All the energy that I once spent looking for god in everything, that I once expelled trying to make myself straight for some messiah, that I shamed myself with because I was conditioned to believe that I was sinful and in need of salvation, and that I exerted building walls between myself and others who believed in a different god than my own, is now energy for life, the life that I know I have, here in the present, not some life in a fairy tale after death.

This life is frail.  I hate when people use their gods to justify plundering that frailty.


Heretic Tom said...

The hands belong to my little sister and her second daughter (one day old).

Anonymous said...

Your time will come when you release what a big mistake you have made.

Anonymous said...

I understand what you have said. I too have a deep hatred of god and whatever that concept stands for. I refuse to stand by idly and take the crap humanity doles out in the name of some invisible being who promises too many things and keeps none of those promises. Thank you for putting my feelings into words.

djadam said...

i would like to agree to u. i had my pouts on "god" but u showed me another prespective i did not think of. i just want to say thx.

Anonymous said...

Mr. Annonymous, your time will come when you will realize what kind of fag you were wasting countless hours praying for mercy for God. You could have shared love, helped someone in those hours instead of wasting precious time of your life.