It was a rainy sunday morning. Every now and then it happened that I went to church on such a morning. Not to pray, of course, but simply because I enjoyed the atmosphere. For me, a church was one of the few places where people finally come to rest and reflect on their lives. In special cases, they even seem to show gratitude. Consequently going to church on a rainy Sunday was far more pleasant than going to a crowded cafe where people tend to debate trivial things without really pursuing the goal of expanding their knowledge.
Many people tend to assume that they know the most and to be way ahead of other people. Superiority is one of the worst subconscious diseases of today. It leads people to judge others, to the need of forcing their view on them, or, in the worst case, the need of controlling the perceived inferior. Of course, these people are not aware of their own limitations. The stupidity of humanity sometimes seems infinite. A person who thinks he knows everything is far crazier than the person who is aware of not knowing much. No matter how high the level of education. This overconfidence seems to be contained in buildings such as churches, mosques and temples. As if people are again realizing that they are not the center of the universe, but on the contrary, a tiny, almost invisible part of the big picture.
As expected, the church very empty today because of the heavy rain. I sat in the front row of the old wooden benches and looked at the paintings on the ceiling. They were beautiful. The soft pastel colors — a sweet composition, perfectly complemented by the gold edgings. It was incredible how much love people could put into art. The colors and shapes were precisely adapted to the conditions of the architecture. If people would use their love just as skilfully towards other people and nature, the world would be far healthier.
While I was studying the appearance of the church, a young woman had sat next to me. Her hands were folded in front of her head, her body was rocking gently back and forth and her lips were trembling. I concluded that she was praying. Her grimacing face also let me know that the prayer had to be about something negative. I did my best to avert my concentration from the praying woman. However, her sighing made it almost impossible. I am not a heartless person. Not at all. I would rather describe myself as an old man who has experienced a lot in his life, who knows that silence is sometimes more valuable than talk and that love is the greatest, but only for those who have learned to love. So of course I could offer my care to this woman but maybe she is not at all willing to receive it. Some people are simply not ready. Some will never be.
The young woman sighed again. I couldn’t help but look over again. A tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered something to herself. I couldn’t take it. How would I know if she wanted my help or not? She obviously seemed to be looking for help since she was praying to whoever.There was no other way to find out than to offer it. So I cleared my throat and asked her:
Hello you! Young Lady! What are you doing?
She seemed irritated. Tentatively she looked around. When she realized that we were the only ones in the church, she replied snappily that she was obviously praying.
To whom?
Now she looked at me even more horrified, as if the question I had asked was unjustified. I assumed that due to the fact that we were in a church, she would have to be a Christian and therefore, she would pray to the so-called “God”. According to her reaction I also assumed, that I was one step too far. So I asked something simpler:
What makes your heart so heavy that leads you pray in this old church on a rainy Sunday?
Her facial muscles seemed to relax a little bit. She told me that her husband had separated from her and that she was stuck in a job she would not like at all, that she would feel lost and would therefore come to church every Sunday since three month to ask God for help and pardon for the sins she may have committed. I couldn’t help but laugh gently. Of course she was irritated by my reaction and asked — again a bit snappy — what was funny about it.
I just think humans are really interesting. How can you trust a god that no one has ever seen more than you trust yourself? Why do you rely more on his actions than on your ability to act. Why are you looking for consolation from the outside when you are not gentle enough to console yourself? I am not saying that I know that there is no God. I am only saying that there is absolutely no proof that there is a God, just as there is no proof that there is none. Sometimes I just wonder what kind of god that would be. A God who creates a world where innocent people, children are bombed by mad people, a world where some people are supersaturated and others die of hunger. And he is watching? The Homo Sapiens as we know it today has existed for around 40,000 years. This god has been watching recurring ups and downs of humanity for 40,000 years? He must be a little bit mad himself then.
The young woman looked at me like a desperate child who had just had his toy taken away. She asked me if I wouldn’t be ashamed to speak of God like that, especially in a church. Of course, I suspected she would react that way.
You know, it doesn’t matter where I say it. That the church is a sacred place is simply a construct of your belief. Your belief that you parrot others and never questioned. Belief never has anything to do with knowledge. The only thing we really know, is what we experience. And when we have experienced something, we do not need a construct, no theory and no approval from others, because we simply know. Is there a hell and a heaven after death? Is there reincarnation? Are there hundreds of beautiful virgins waiting for the believer? We simply don’t know. It could be all or none of all of this. The only thing we know is what is now. Sometimes I think people stick to the construct of religion because it justifies their foolish actions. Instead of taking responsibility themselves, they put responsibility on a construct. Instead of figuring out how they can best enjoy this present of aliveness, instead of facing their fears, instead of becoming open in order to receive and grow, instead of learning how to act ethically as the most intelligent being on the planet should do, they bathe in self-pity and hope to be released when they finally can go to heaven. But the only thing we can say for sure is what is in the now. So why do we hope to be redeemed? Why do we want to imagine a heaven? Why people don’t take the chance to take responsibility and try to improve what is, the existence we experience in the now? Instead of praying to someone who only may exist, you should rather invest your time in what certainly exists, namely you and the healthiness of your consciousness. Because, please, tell me one thing. When you’re in heaven, you enjoy heaven? You will be suddenly capable of being in the now in heaven then? Why waiting until heaven and not practicing it on earth. Heaven just seems like an excuse to miss the current. So why don’t you stop your prayer, start to carefully consider your feelings, to do something good for yourself and cope with the current reality, find solutions. Of course, reality often seems difficult, frightening. A lot of terrible things happen, dead seems to be an enemy based on the fact that we don’t know what will happen afterwards. But that’s what is. We shouldn’t invent things that distract us from the unknown just to escape fear. See, we are so distracted that we even kill each other just to be right about our beliefs, because we are so afraid that somebody could possibly destroy it. It’s the fear of being lost without any construct. It is simply mad. We should all face fear, because it will make us more aware of the now. It will generate the need to enjoy every moment as much as possible, no matter what hurdles and injuries there are. It is simply part of the whole of existence. As soon as we start to accept existence as a whole, we may become gentle with ourselves, because as well as the macrocosmos, we are a combination of darkness and light.
For a moment it was quiet. Maybe I was too direct. Perhaps the woman had not yet been ready to broaden her perspective. But after a few minutes she started to smile and said that she had never met such a strange old man like me in church.
“Strange“ is of course something very relative. But due to the fact that I see you smiling, I assume that you do not rate “strange“ as very negative, so I take it. Look, to end my unforeseen lecture, I would like to tell you that religion in itself is not a bad thing. Misinterpretation of religion is bad. And misinterpretation arises from too little openness, too little reflection and too little awareness. If you live a conscious life, the Bible, the Koran, the Gita or any other holy book can of course reveal beautiful wisdom to you. But you are responsible for how you deal with it. So don’t confuse religion with not being responsible for your actions. Be aware of the gap between believing and knowing. Believing is just based on imagination. You should never stop questioning and being open, when you do not know. Be responsible for inflaming your own beautiful light and for sharing it with others. Who knows, maybe there will be a God in the end and if so, he will be proud of you, as you have illuminated the world. And if not, you will feel how much your radiance itself fulfills you in the now — the only time that knowingly exists.
