I have a curious nature. They say this is what is needed in order to be a great journalist. Unfortunately, the following blog is neither about my unhealthy curious tendencies nor the career path I am still on the fence about.
I happen to be on the fence about many things, specifically the God issue. I was born into a Catholic family, where baptism, your first holy communion, regular confessions, confirmation and church every Sunday was expected from your ‘faith’. Since I had no choice in the matter, I was thrust into this mainstream religion with no voice of my own or no opinion really. You don’t question it, who are you to question God? You do what is expected of you, even the ten Hail Mary’s you have to say for stealing chocolate out of your mother’s bed side drawer.My grandmother was deeply religious. Although she has passed away, I will always remember her for her faith and her belief in God. If she got any closer to the church, she would be a martyr. Not because she attended every mass that took place, but because she was a genuine person and there was not a shrink of nastiness within her. She too was brought up in the catholic faith and I wonder today if she ever questioned it. Shortly after she passed, I slowly let go of something that had been a part of my childhood. Let’s face it; my mother made sure I carried on the Catholic faith to make my grandmother happy. (My mother is not a religious person either and I remember the endless arguments between the two of them over my parent’s divorce and the fact that she never returned to church afterwards). I let go of God and the church situated a few streets from home and I moved on with my life. I believe that I got to a point, when my grandmother passed away, where I questioned God in his all entirety. He made me suffer the loss of her, who I happened to be the closest to. Is this how he repays those who dedicate their entire life to him? Throat cancer that left her to starve to death, literally. No, not in my eyes. That wasn’t worth getting a front row seat in heaven. I will probably be burned for saying this, but I would rather go to hell then see what I saw through her suffering.
I will not lie and say I never believe in God. I don’t exactly know what I believe in. Though it has been pounded into my head and I’ve been dragged through about 18 Lent periods, I find myself on the odd occasion questioning my ‘faith’. (I put faith in abbreviated because I don’t even know if I possess that either). On the odd occasion I think of God and then I remind myself that I am not a believer. Whether this be the religious background of mine which hasn’t quite left the system yet or even the devil, as some may believe, I really don’t know. Could it be the devil?
I watched Anthony Hopkin’s latest movie this evening. The Rite. Although I am a horror fan and I enjoy these types, these movies push me back into my questioning phase. If something so evil, such as a demon or a possession can actually exist, then there has to be something to counter-steer it? Would that be God? Is this world just evil with no God? How do I answer these questions?
I believe in demons and I definitely believe in possessions. You might ask me then: ‘How the hell can you believe in one and not the other?’ (Excuse the pun). I actually can’t answer that question. Maybe I believe in the evil side because that’s all we see nowadays and God just doesn’t seem real. Where is he when 14 month old baby, innocent, gets raped by a paedophile in his home? I surely don’t know, but I know for sure something evil is there in his place.
Over and over again, I have heard that faith is needed in order to believe. Maybe that faith has never been there to begin with? Maybe if I wasn’t shoved into something I didn’t truly understand then I would have possibly found it properly in my own way? I am not blaming anyone, for those before knew no different, they were also brought up to believe in what I was told to.
I get slightly worried when I possess no inclination or no ‘tug’ towards God. I remember as a child, sitting in church, fidgeting and staring at the colourful glass stained windows, the priest who was meticulous and somewhat boring, with zero enthusiasm said something that will stick with me forever; ‘To not believe is to open yourself up to danger’. The danger being the evil, the demons, Satan – whatever you want to call God’s enemy. Basically he was saying is that you become vulnerable to these things in many forms, whether it be evil in or life or a demon following you, without your knowledge. Why do I believe this but I refuse to grasp the concept of God?
Maybe something has to happen to me in order to believe in him, I really don’t know. Ask me if I believe in heaven and hell and I will tell you no, but secretly something deep down inside me instantly says yes, yet again that might have been the scripture I got bashed over my head with all through my innocent years or it actually might be some shred of faith or hope that just hasn’t seemed to surface, for some reason. If I had to go to a priest with the above mentioned, he would look straight at me and say: ‘This is the devil’s work, he is trying to destroy your faith’. So be it, if it is the devil’s work, it may very well be.
I definitely feel like Gabriel Byrne in Stigmata, the typical priest who no longer knows why he believes in God but miraculously comes across a possessed girl who happens to restore his faith. I just haven’t come across that ‘possessed girl’ just yet, so to speak. I may never come across it in fact, but something like this never goes away. Why do I pray to God when I am scared? Why do I ask God to help me when I confess to others that I am a non-believer? Religious upbringing or faith that is dwindling but hasn’t disappeared just yet?
Maybe that crucifix I bought, for no apparent and known reason, will make an appearance outside of the box I have placed it in one day.
If this makes no sense, I apologise. It’s a ramble in which I feel I needed to write down after watching that movie.
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