Gaps in my days, long silences waiting for a mind message to finally sort out the muddle. If you are a Gentle (and Faithful) Reader, you know that I am an old woman struggling with change. Not the usual changes of aging; diminished physical capacity, acceptance of specific family distancing, facing the mirror, assisted living facilities, but a change that feels far more invasive and profound.
For many of my years, I have searched for the perfect religion–the one that allows us to love one another rather than those that prompt us to hate any religion different from our own. Wars are fought, people destroyed, hatreds cemented in the name of a group god.
Looking at religion of history is a curiosity. Men have conjured gods by the hundreds, one for just about every need or passion. Often religion has been more a matter of justifying disputes than a search for spirituality. Any era’s current world view alters concepts of gods and justifies purging those viewed as different.
Why are matters of religion a source of controversy? Why are doctrines of so-called faith and morals put ahead of caring for and loving the life we have? Why is it so easy to justify shunning on the basis of “My God of Love finds fault with your God of Love”?
We are a curious thing, we humans. The force of finding our spiritual piece is strong. We search but we find so many dark and hurtful places along the way.