I am not a religious person by any stretch. To even call myself "spiritual" may be an affront to those who actually are. I'm not even on the fence, really. That would require me to ponder it more than I do.
But there are certain situations where I return to the idea of some sort of god. A shared spirituality. Free-floating souls. An afterworld of some sort. Anything, really.
Death is the most common cause for me to re-raise the question. Not my own, because that would be beyond my feelings. But the death of those around me is a much more difficult to reconcile. Outside of the fortified walls of organized religion, there aren't many comforts afforded in the case of death. Whatever it was, simply ends. Naturally, we as curious and emotional creatures take serious issue with this.
I don't know about you, but when I have an issue, I like to write pointless letters to complain about it. I don't know why. It helps me cope, I guess. So here goes.
Open Letter to Christian God (based on assumption of existence).
I am writing you this letter, and you specifically, because I am not well versed in any other varieties of deity-by-human-construct. I don’t know how to refer to any of the Eastern Philosophy gods, Wiccan deities, or anything the American Indians may have worshipped. My stepping in Religious education ended when I discovered that I could simply stop listening to boring, poorly offered, and wholly unsubstantiated bull shit. Hey, it's your design buddy, from what I can gather, so there’s no point in getting huffy about it. Feel free to blame yourself, for me and my ways. Since I’m agreeing to temporarily suspend my disbelief in you, I am certainly excited for the opportunity to genuinely blame someone (something, whatever) else for my transgressions. It’s all very new to me, and it is all rather badass.
I doubt it will last though. I tend to get bored quick. Moving on.
We’ve never met. So let me begin this by saying that I never really believed in you. I’m sure you feel the same.
Let me also say that I, just like the vast majority of mankind, have a strong tendency to ‘admit’ to ‘believing’ in lots of complete horse shit like:
The positive movie reviews for Tomb Raider.
“There’s nothing really wrong with Nutrasweet.”
Size doesn't really matter.
My distaste for mayo is only in my head.
Whisky makes me attractive and fun to be around.
Michael Jackson is of the same species as his victims.
Of course, all of these things have been either proven completely false, or remain deeply suspect. Your existence comes right after the MJ crack. That’s right, asshole. I’m keeping a strict eye out, so mind your p’s and q’s.
And just in case you take issue with me calling you an asshole, well please allow me to explain (because really, that's the whole point of this letter, asshole).
Based on my own personal experiences in life, I do not believe in your existence whatsoever. But for the sake of argument, and for the sake of this open letter, I am assuming you exist. In some form or another.
Having an open mind about this assumption, I have three basic god-type personalities as probable candidates for whatever the hell you actually are. I realize that the potential manifestations of your personality are limitless, but I believe these descriptions capture the vast majority of specifics. Here are the personality types, in short:
1. The average neo-Christian-esque religious interpretation
2. The non-judgmental creator who stands back and watches with curiosity
3. The vacant creator who forgot the human project altogether
Sweet Jesus, where to begin with this train wreck. Basically, if you are, indeed, a god by the general description, then you need some serious help. Makes no difference which Christian-based religion you come from. They all seem to focus on the wonderful play between open-armed benevolence, and the all-consuming fury of negative judgment. Standard carrot/stick deal. Some religions subscribe a little more Yin over Yang, but they all tip it on the same scales. Six, one-half dozen, or the other. Your doubled-over and blatantly hypocritical demands that your vanity be propped up by us little (and apparently worthless, yet ultimately valuable) human soul-baskets, is just plain masturbatory. If you are, indeed, an all-powerful entity which nods and guides every little possibility in the universe, demanding that the entire human race bow down at your feet and constantly thank you for delivering us the possibility to burn in eternal hell… well that’s just stupid. You need to get beyond the need for us knuckleheads to give you praise. You’re already top dog. You win. Why do you give two shits about whether or not I fucking admit it publicly? Get over it already, for fuck’s sake. If those who follow scripture, and believe that god is some kind of all supreme thing, looking down and judging me based on my acceptance of his superiority… if those people prove to be right about you? Well then. A spade’s a spade, and you are an asshole.
You are, by your own actions, an asshole. Why? Because you created this whole mess for your own entertainment. That’s why.
Call it whatever you want. Call it an experiment. A big ol’ ant farm. Call it a collection, a project, a work of art, a race to implosion, whatever. We’re all here wondering what the fucking point is, and making up all these grandiose reasons for our own existence. And there you are, just hanging back, knowing that it all amounts to absolutely nothing, watching us squirm. Either that, or you have no clue what the hell we are, because we are an accident of some sort. In which case, you wouldn’t understand the words in this letter, so I can call you whatever the fuck I want, you illiterate, supreme fuck-nut.
And if we are entertainment or an experiment, then just consider me calling you an asshole to be either: a) part of the show, or b) part of the results in your testing. Asshole.
Hey, asshole, over here! You fucking forgot about us you prick! We aren’t equipped with much beyond a penchant for self-destruction. You left us here to fend for ourselves, and I have my doubts about our abilities to do so with any level of success. If we are to overcome this whole ‘extinction’ thing, which no species appears immune to, then we’ll need some help. We aren’t a turn-key kinda group. We’re pretty god-damned high-maintenance over here.
Or maybe I’m just saying that because I don’t believe in you, and it is easier for me to thumb my nose at figments than it is to honestly reconcile the finality of it all. Much easier than accepting that many of the people I love the most will forever leave me, while the remainder will be completely abandoned by me. ‘Asshole’ is the first word that comes to mind here, because it makes me feel better about the whole thing. It helps to balance out how powerless I feel otherwise. It gives me the gumption to continue building real relationships with loved ones who I know I will eventually lose entirely. It cuts the darkness of it all. It gives me something to hold on to. It almost makes me smile.