When I was a kid, I was raised by a pretty much not-religious mom and religious grandparents on a kind of time-share custody basis. During the week I lived with mom and went to school, and on the weekends I stayed with the grands. They took me to the Methodist church where I was quickly picked out as a leader. (They had me help the teacher in Sunday School, made me an acolyte/altar-girl, that sort of thing.) At first, I believed in God and Jesus the same way little kids believe in Santa and the tooth fairy – because the adults said it was true, I didn’t have reason to question them, and presents showed up under the tree and quarters under the pillow on a regular basis – proof positive!
When I got old enough, I read the Bible. I had a lot of questions. Parts of it didn’t make any sense. My grandparents had me talk to the Methodist minister, who didn’t have any answers either but who said that I was smart. Basically, the whole God thing didn’t add up once I read the manual, and if a twelve year old can defeat the minister with questions, well, that didn’t sit too well with me. In the meantime, we were studying the Greek myths in school, and while those were just as improbable, they were at least more entertaining and “human.” By that, I meant I could see how people made them up to explain things. I figured that people made God up to explain things, too.
Later on, I tried to think about what was real and what was sacred. I realized that the things that sustain life are sacred and holy – the cycles of seasons, the crops that feed us, the water, the air, the spark of fire. While I was thinking about these things, I met a woman who was Wiccan, and she suggested some books. In short order, I realized that Wicca was what I’d been looking for, so I did that for quite a while. I practiced with a circle for about fourteen years. During that time I became less of what we call a “fuzzy bunny” Wiccan (think brainless new ager, not that it ever described me very well but you get the idea) and more of a serious, yet generic, Pagan. Even then, I didn’t believe in the God or Goddess as actual entities, but more of a way to put a human face on the Big Unknown Whatever that was out there. I was more interested in the tree-hugging aspects of Paganism anyway, and trying to take religion back to mankind’s first spiritual glimmers – Clan of the Cave Bear type of stuff. Even now, it fascinates me.
However, as time passed and I did more reading and study, I realized that pretty much all manmade religious systems were just that – manmade. Religion serves many functions in a culture. For some, it keeps a group together in the face of unbelievable odds – like the Jews. For some, it’s about dietary laws that meant something when food couldn’t be as well preserved as now, but they didn’t know what made them sick and figured God must not have wanted them to eat it. For some, it was early astronomy, and Apollo in a chariot was as good as it got as far as explanations of what the Sun is and why it moves. For some, it was an important ancestor who died long ago, but they felt better knowing that great- great-great- grandma was still watching and taking care of them. I believe most early people, once they realized what Death was, were afraid and came up with a ritual way to insure that they didn’t “really” die, just went to a place that was like a dream, or maybe came back in another body – anything but the Big Nothing.
What all of these have in common is that People came up with Religion. Once I had that realization creep up and blindside me, there was no way to go back. Suddenly, some things stood out in clear relief, like the abuse people have traded back and forth based on religion and its various heresies, or how religion could be used as a political tool, or to keep control of a population. You know, the darker side of religion. I could no longer buy into this system, once I realized what a sham it all was. It’s like in that movie, The Matrix, where Keanu Reeves takes the pill and suddenly sees everything for what it is. It would be comforting to believe that a personal God loves me and takes care of me, or that the Goddess choreographs the tides and the fruiting of the trees, but I’d rather have the cold truth than the happy falsehood.
Although I still went through the motions as recently as a few years ago, I’ve considered myself to be a Secular Pagan for a while now. I still like the idea of honoring that which keeps us alive, but I don’t necessarily see it as having a soul or spirit – or even, for that matter, that I have a soul or spirit. I’ll be compost when I die, rotting back into the circle of nutrients. But as far as believing in a Big Whatever, I can’t say as I do. If there is, it’s so far removed from anything like us, and so positively impersonal and unknowable and foreign to our brain that it’s useless to believe in it. I’ve Pinged, and gotten no Pong.
Sorry that was so long.
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