Journal Entry - The Truth
I went to a church today, don't ask why, I don't know. I didn't pray. I didn't sing. I didn't do anything with those poeple that you normally do in church. I sat in the back. I listened. Mentally I actually laughed. "God loves you," the preacher said. "God will protect you," he said. "God will take care of you," he said. On and on he went about God's love and all these "good" things. Near the end, I couldn't help it. I raised my hand and waited patiently. Finally he called on me, and I asked him about God's wrath. I asked him if God could fail. I asked him if God would ever forsake us. He looked at me for a moment, and I could feel the eyes of everyone else on me as well. Finally, after a moment, he spoke up in a curious voice, though he didn't answer my question.
"My boy, why should someone so young as yourself be concerned with such things?" he was a rather aged old man, white hair, wrinkled skin, and the like. He even wore glasses, even though with the size of the bible on the podium before him, the print had to have been huge already. Go figure a blind man would preach about something he can't see.
"Just answer the questions, please." My tone was flat, and I think it rather shook the preacher.
"Do you believe, my boy?"
"In God, of that he deserves worship after all the evils he has done?" The preacher started at me. "Now, would you please answer my questions, sir?"
The old man was hesitant at first, but soon enough the congregation urged him on to answer my questions. The first words out of his mouth were like a slap/ They stung, and I felt my blood boil in my veins. "God gives his wrath only to those who have earned his ire." Those were his words.
He went on to speak about God's punishment of the wicked, and how repenting and leading good honest lives could save us from his wrath, so long as we worshipped him. I wanted to shout and call him a liar, but I thought better of it. I would let him go on for a bit; let him spout his untruths for a little while longer before I shook the foundations of his faith like a mighty earthquake.
"Does that answer your questions, young man?" he asked of me when he was done.
"It answers one question, sir. However, it is not one that I asked aloud, and for the specific reason that I did not want you to know the answer I was looking for."
"The what was the question?" He raised a brow.
"The real question was simple: Do you know the truth?" He tilted his head down slightly to look at me critically. "And unfortunately, sir, you do not."
"Well then, tell us all, what is the truth?"
"If I may?" I motioned to the podium.
"Certainly, by all means!" He jeered as he stepped to the side.
Standing, I walked from my seat to the podium, and stood behind it. For a moment I just stood there and soaked it all in. I have to admit, there was certainly something, some feel of power there. There was also a feeling of vulnerability as well. Despite that, I pushed it aside and spoke. "I only ask that nobody speak until I am finished."
With that, I took a breath and spoke. It was almost strange. I felt as if I truly had the authority to say the things I believed to be the truth. "It is not true. God is not merciful. He does not spare anyone his wrath. I know this well. I also know that he is not deserving of worship. he has committed great attrocities, and he has never been punished or repented for them. You may stand behind the falsehoods that he has done so to punish the wicked. That is a lie. He is guilty of slaughter; of genocide! If we were to do something wrong, would not we be punished? Certainly, of course we would! We all agree that killing is wrong. We all agree that rape is wrong. We all agree that stealing is wrong. So I ask you this: why should we worship a hypocritical god that allows, and even supports these things from time to time?"
I could see some people in the congregation were thinking abuot what I said: mostly the younger ones or those that weren't as diehard as those around them. Others were giving dirty looks, and some looked as if ready to argue until I gave them a harsh look. "We shouldn't!" I said at last, and I could see some in the mass nodding their heads. Then one called out, asking what should be done.
"The answer is simple. We depend on ourselves. I don't deny that God exists. I know that he does. I don't deoubt that any gods or goddesses exist. I also don't think any of them deserve worship!" I took a breath. "You don't need any god to make good or ill happen. You just need people. They don't have to be particularly good or evil. You just need them to be."
"A good deed or a foul word is enough to cause a chain reaction, and either can lead to good or bad. Voltaire. Kant. Locke. Rousseau. These are the names of men that have come before us. They laid out the things which shaped the way we see the world. Freedom. Liberty. Happiness. Knowledge. Understanding. Hope." I paused, "Love. These things exist in us. We don't need any god. We don't need any religion. We need courtesy, respect, kindness, mercy, loyalty, honor, courage, chivalry, generosity, empathy, sympathy, hospitality, freedom, and above all... above all we simply need to be good. We need to be human. We need to live, and be honest."
I took a breath and stepped away from the podium. "Do good things and be true to yourself, and let no man on this earth tell you it's not enough." That said, I headed for the exit.
"What of God? In this book he has told us that-" I stopped at the doors and turned, my voice interrupting him.
"He hasn't said anything. He wasn't the one that wrote that book. The authors are at the beginnings of every chapter, and not one of them is called God, Jehovah, or Yahwey. He didn't write that book. Mortal men did. What you read is what mortals just like yourself wrote. There's nothing divine about it." And with that, I left.