TDoT(19): What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?

Ooo, controversial, this one, isn’t it? Do I do religion? Or politics? I’m not a lover of either, to be honest, but the fact that most politicians are fat cats puts me off that completely. Religion it is then.

I’m not a fan of organised religion but I believe each to their own. I think it’s safe to say that, through the ages, religion has been the source of some pretty nasty things and that’s the religion I’m against – the one with the idea of “My religion is the only right one, therefore I will spend a lot of energy convincing you of that and, possibly, resort to violence to enforce that fact.”

The one that encourages community, love, human respect – that I can see the point of. I don’t need to go to church for that however, I don’t need to concentrate my efforts on defining one superior being, or another. There may well be a higher power of some sort, I don’t feel the need to define it. In saying that, those who do, are welcome to do so, as long as they don’t use it to give themselves permission to judge anybody else.

I taught Sunday School at high school, would you believe? Admittedly, it was the toddlers we looked after, and we spent the time getting them to draw pictures of their family, who they love and such. I guess I’d already worked out my affiliatons by then.

A visit to church

It rained on Saturday night. A lashing, crashing, fighting storm of wind and water, throwing themselves at my window. It was the kind of night that you are really grateful to have a house and a warm bed to snuggle in, and a couple of DVDs to watch (please note, Four months, 3 weeks, 2 days, the Romanian film, while very good, is by no means a light-hearted little Saturday night movie.) The plan was for an early night and an early rise. To go to church.

Yes, I said it… to go to church. The last time I went to church, other than for weddings/christenings/funerals was, I think, in 1993, when I trundled off with my best friend K at university to see what the beautiful Catholic church looked like. It was more an architectural visit, than a spiritual one, I’m afraid.

My religious affiliations lie, well, all over the place. I’m not a believer of organised religion, although I do believe there’s something out there, bigger than us. I don’t believe that it is a judgemental presence spouting petty laws as I think are spouted in many religions by humans claiming to know these things (and here I generalise terribly, forgive me.) I do believe that church supplies a community which many people enjoy, and need. Other’s dont, and shouldn’t be chastised for that decision.

You get the idea, I don’t want this to turn into a sermon! Snigger. Back to Sunday. I decided to go to church (and the Afrikans, I thought conservative, type too) because G had said she’d like to go to the beautiful old church in her university town with an amazing organ in it and I asked if I could join her. Mainly to listen to the organ, but also to see what attracts her (and others) to it.

So off we set on a temperamentally-weathered morning. We left early, before the world woke. It was all washed clean and shiny and gorgeous, with rain interspersed with flashes of sunlight. We stopped on the way for a Wimpy burger and coffee (my favourite breakfast… sis!) and arrived early at the church. It had rained, a lot, on our way, but as we arrived, the rain stopped, allowing a comfortable, and dry little trip from car to church.

It was beautiful, with stained glass windows through which the sun shone (until there was another, HUGE, downpour) and the organ music filled me like a cup of warm tea. They sang. A lot. And the (lady!) minister delivered a very interesting sermon. And then the rain moved away so we could get dryly back to the car, and it was calm. That’s it, I think, there’s a sense of calm in the organised structure of it.

I had more to say, but the words aren’t forming. I think I’ll just think some more. I called my mother on the way home. She is a church-goer, of the Anglican persuasion. This was the conversation:

Shiny: Hi mum, I’ve just been to church with G.
Shiny’s Mum: What? Tell her she’s achieved the impossible. Didn’t you get rained on, it’s pouring?
Shiny: Nope, the rain stopped when we got out of the car, came back while we were in church, and stopped again when we came out.
SM: You see? God was looking after you.

Well, yes, quite. I’ve always believed the Bigger Presence is a generously kind being.

More weekend stories to come. It's not every weekend you watch an implosion!

The signs

I'm wondering whether I should be taking notice. The strangest things have been happening to me. But, in order for this story to make sense, I need to backtrack a little and give a quick overview of my religious beliefs. Quick, religious - those two don't really belong in a sentence together. I'll try though. I am definitely not a believer in organised religion. My jury is out on whether there's a nice, friendly, bearded old man floating around in the clouds above (be he in a Catholic robe, Jewish kippah or Muslim jubba). I do believe in the fact that there is something bigger than us and, certainly, a whole lot of spiritual stuff.

I also believe that church provides people with a sense of community. My mother, for instance, is a regular church goer, and it makes her happy. It's a whole other social circle (she is very sociable) and she doesn't spread damnation and fury to those of us (the rest of the family) who choose not to go. She did bribe me as a teenager, though, to go - allowing me to drive there. That's another story, though. I do also believe that religion is the root of a lot of the troubles of the world but realise that's the fundamentalists etc and, again, that's a whole other story. Mostly, I think we have brains to think, and that's what we should do. I'm sure that gives some idea of where I stand.

Now to the actual story. On Thursday last week, there I was, sat at my kitchen table, wading through the piles of Spar pamphlets, Estate Agent letters begging to evaluate my house, and frightening looking window envelopes when suddenly, lo and behold, a hand-addressed envelope (for me!) fell from the pile. My heart filled with glee as I ripped it open, only to have a small booklet fall out of it. No letter, just the book. Called The Book of John. One of those things that normally get thrust at you on pavements, namelessly, by people wearing I Love Jesus t-shirts. But this was addressed to me (handwritten).

I thought it a bit strange but carried on, regardless.

Then on Sunday, I was packing my CDs and tapes (yes! I soul-wrenchingly went through the tapes that I've been lugging about and dedicatedly collecting dust on for years and threw out most of them, keeping only a few, prized mixed tapes... sigh) in preparation for the Big Move in The Great Floor Saga. There, amongst the tapes, in a back corner of the shelf was a well-used little booklet, taped together with sticky tape (that well-worn) of Muslim wisdom, half written in Arabic, half written in English. I kid you not. I have NO idea where it came from, or how long it's been there. As I said, the tapes have, well, just been collecting dust for the past, oh, six years or so.

Again, I thought it a bit strange but carried on, regardless.

Yesterday I heard my phone do it's little chime thing to indicate a message. It was an unknown number. The message said:

Please Call Man of God

Seriously. Is someone trying to tell me something?

Silly hat and ridiculous comments

Somebody needs to take the silly hat off that Pope guy. His brain needs to be given some breathing space because it's obviously not functioning properly. While I realise he's just the frontman for a whole bunch of other old guys, I'm just clutching at straws as to what, possibly, could be the cause of the thinking behind the condom comment. Other than the tight, silly, hat, of course. But I'm pretty sure they don't all sit around the big table in The Vatican boardroom, sipping tea, chewing the fat, all wearing those hats, making stupid decisions on what public statements to make en route to the continent that is suffering worst under that crippling disease.

Now I realise religion is a touchy subject, I guess especially on a Sunday, but this post isn't really about religion, more about humanity. I work in the field of HIV and ludicrous remarks such as these make my blood boil. And as far as I can remember (admittedly it's been a long time since I went to Sunday School) one of the points of Christianity/religion is tolerance and love. And, surely, reality?

While abstinence before marriage, monogamy etc are all brilliant anti-HIV tactics, the truth of the matter is that it doesn't really happen all that often. We all have sex. Shock, horror... who would've thought? Most of us before marriage. Some of us don't get married, or wait longer to get married. And, therefore, we generally all have more than one partner, as do our partners. (And this is beside different cultural beliefs, whch, surely, should be respected too). This does not make us bad people, it makes us humans. Humans who should be encouraged from any, and every, aspect to protect ourselves from AIDS.

So any comment regarding not using condoms, especially from a 'world leader' is blatantly irresponsible and completely unacceptable. When will that antiquated system wake up, look around, embrace humanity, as we are now, and protect the very people it supposedly 'looks after'?