One man’s simplistic view of religion and the universe….
WHEN I WAS a boy, monsters lived in my closet. It’s why I don’t believe in God.
There is a connection.
When I was a wee lad, I knew monsters lived at night in my closet, in the dresser drawers and under my bed. I could hear them. They made things go creak in the night. I never knew for sure where they went in the daytime, but at night I knew they were there.
Waiting. Waiting for me to get out of bed. I knew the one under the bed would grab me by the ankles and the others would pile on, if the door to the closet and drawers to the dresser were open. My mother would come in next morning and there would be no little boy there, just bloody sheet.
It’s why I wet the bed well past the time I should have. I did not want to risk death just to take a pee. My mother would punish me, but she never threatened to kill me, so I paid more attention to the monsters.
Of course, my mother and father, and even the doctor who was called to opine on my bedwetting, told me the monsters did not exist. They were not real. Such things did not exist and they could not possibly devour me if I went to the bathroom in the dead of the night.
I was not convinced.
When I started going to Sunday school, I realized I could no longer trust what adults told me. Our Quaker meeting was not silent. It had a minister, and it had Sunday school. Little ones gathered in a half circle, or around a small table, and heard the stories of Jesus from birth to death. We also heard about how God created the earth, drove Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden after they gave in to a talking snake, let Moses find tablets among flames and then part the ocean.
I listened intently when the teacher talked about the miracles Jesus carried out – walking on water, bringing people back from the dead, curing lepers, feeding thousands from a couple of loaves of bread and a fish or two, turning water into wine.
AT SOME POINT I began wondering what was up with all of this. The monsters in my closet, my dresser drawers and under the bed could not possibly be real. Yet a man born of God could do all those impossible things, rise from the dead, have eternal life and it was all very matter of fact and believable.
At such a young age, who was I to argue with adults, so I didn’t. At some point, I convinced my parents to put a small light in my bedroom at night. I figured if the monsters disappeared during the day the light might keep them at bay in the night. I still shut my closet door, all the dresser drawers and checked under the bed. But at last, I could rush to the bathroom, take a whiz and make it back to bed without being eaten. My parents were most relieved.
As I have gone through life I have studied religion, particularly organized religion, and I have come to realize that my views have not changed since I was a boy. If there cannot be monsters, there cannot be a God. That, of course is a simple view of things.
I have no bone to pick with those who believe and for whom their faith is a pillar of their lives. I don’t judge. But, over time, I have come to judge organized religion and I find it, well, not admirable.
I am not speaking here of the millions who go to some sort of ceremony, be it Temple, Mosque, church or chapel, and live as Jesus would have them live. I speak more of organized religion as an entity, which if you add it all up has killed more people over the centuries than any other entity. Wars, brutality and bigotry of unspeakable dimensions have been used to justify the spread and imposition of belief.
WHEN I WAS young and hiding from the monsters, my mother would give me two or three swats with a yardstick every morning she found a damp bed. Organized religion has done its own version of that over the centuries – believe or die. Believe or be excluded. Believe, or else.
I no longer try to define myself. I am a Quaker by heritage and values. But I do not believe in God, nor do I accept Jesus as my savior, something Quakers, formally known as the Religious Society of Friends, call for. I do attend weekly silent meeting and admit to feeling like a bit of a hypocrite, though those who do not believe are welcome. We non-believers are referred to as “nontheists.”
I suppose if I had to define my belief system it would be that I believe in life and all its mysteries and the unending reaches of the universe. We are all a part of an energy and while we may not exist after life in a heaven or hell, our energy goes out into the universe and where it might land no one knows.
In my belief system there could be room for a God, but to me that presence would more follow ancient beliefs in the powers and bounties of earth and nature.
In my system I will admit to the possibility of a God for those who seek him or her; I will also accept the presence of monsters in my closet. To this day I still close my closet drawer at night, and I make sure the dresser drawers are shut. And in the morning, if I have survived, I sit on the patio with Buddha for a few moments of peace, my bladder empty and my bed dry.
Rich Heiland is a retired journalist and semi-retired consultant, trainer and public speaker. During his journalism career he was a reporter, editor, publisher, college instructor, part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team and a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year honoree. He also writes the intodementia.com blog about his family’s experience with dementia. He lives in West Chester, PA and can be reached at [email protected].