The Pondicherry forecast calls for pollution – religious pollution

Here’s a little journal entry of mine from last week:

It appears I can’t avoid getting into arguments about supernatural dieties even when I try. So, I had an unfortunate conversation with a Pondicherry shop owner in which he insisted that the Christian god was the correct one. I say unfortunate because any encounter that reminds me of the demon-haunted minds, the shadowy worlds of my fellow humans always weighs heavily on me because I believe such superstitions prevent us from reaching our true potential.

Anyway, he was a very nice man, the owner of the tiny shop where we buy milk and bread. But his first display of ignorance was when he said, “Catholic or Protestant?” (He knew I was a student from the U.S. because he knows Mr Varghese, the guest house caretaker.) For him, is was obvious that all Americans are Christians.

I took a deep breath because I knew the next few minutes would involve some small energy expenditure. “No gods,” I said, “I don’t have any gods or demons.”

“Are they all like that in US?” he asked. Unfortunately I was not quick enough to reply, “No, only some of the more educated people do not worship gods.” But instead I said, “No, mostly Christian, Muslim and Jewish.”

He said, “I don’t wroship any gods, only the god of Jesus Christ.” I didn’t ask this confued man to clarify this particular point. I noticed the Jesus picture, as white/European as ever, that was hanging on the wall of the shop next to the jelly. The half-man, half-god of Christian mythology, he is more powerful than a man but not as powerful as the primary god.

That was when he said, “Well, you are young and that is when you have many thoughts in your head. But someday you’ll realize,” and he pointed upward (to where God lives, I assume). Well yes, sir, I know that for religious people like you, thoughts are to be avoided or contained. Not so for me – I _encourage_ thinking. And what a typically religious display of condescension! I can be condescending, too: you believe in the Chistian god because your parents were Christian. And if they had been Hindu, you would believe in the Hindu gods. I restrained myself from saying this, though.

He then asked, “Why do you not believe in a god?” This question does not make sense to me. Why don’t I believe a teapot revolves around the Sun? Why don’t I believe a bunny rabbit lives in the center of the earth? Because the idea is unsupported by evidence (not to mention absurd). I said, “The search for truth, and no evidence for gods.” He said he believed America existed despite never seeing it, and “such is God,” he said, smiling as though he had just brought me to enlightenment. Yes, there is good reason to believe the US exists. But you probably wouldn’t believe in Atlantis once you had evaluated the evidence for it. And why not believe in _all_ the thousands of gods that have been imagined? An equal amount of “evidence” exists for each and every one of them.

After all this, after knowing my position on this fundamental issue, he had the gall to say, “God bless you” as I walked away with my bag of groceries.

And once again (dammit) I just wasn’t fast enough to ask, “Which god?” and to add with a smile, “May you meet many a lucky leprechaun upon life’s path!”

~Isaac H.

Dashikis and white people, and religion

Are white people allowed to wear dashikis? There’s a really cool-looking green one at Savers and I was thinking, “If I had a nice collared shirt and this dashiki on over it, I wouldn’t look that bad. But I googled “are white people allowed to wear dashikis?” and one of the first results that came up was a comment on some message board that said “White people in dashikis look nuts…”

So that’s that.

On another note, I visited my great aunt Betty and she was doing well, though of course she’s on the out and out. Her pastor was there, a very nice St Olaf grad (aren’t they all nice over there at St Olaf?). The two of them sang some lovely hymns that they knew by heart. Betty, bless her 95 year-old heart, even did a blessing of each of her great-nieces and nephews. It was touching, and I’m so sad to see her go.

As I watched her sing those hymns, with my hand on her leg, I watched her closed eyes and her head, turned up to the sky. I didn’t know the words and could not have partook even if I had, but they sang hymns that dealt with life in ancient Israel, hymns about a people that thought themselves chosen by a deity and how the deity had led them out of bondage. It was obvious how much comfort Betty’s faith gave her in her hour of death. What kinds of images were in Betty’s mind as she sang those hymns, with her eyes closed? Was she imagining herself walking down a corridor of light, approaching the throne of Yahweh? Was she thinking about what it would be like to soon talk to the two husbands she outlived? Or thinking about being lifted up from her body in a pillar of God’s will and joining angels in the clouds (where heaven, of course, must be)? I immediately thought of Sam Harris’ book, “Letter to a Christian Nation,” in which he imagined elderly victims of Hurricane Catrina going up into their attics to slowly drown rather than doing all they could to survive, even when help was near. They perhaps clutched Bibles and imagined they were soon to be released from their toil, that God was choosing them or something. I couldn’t help but make the comparison.

But why can’t comfort and meaning come from elsewhere than delusion about big supernatural father figures in the sky, or any other fantasy for that matter? This simple thing, that is, giving solace and a sense of profundity to an old woman in the final week of her long life, why must it be based on ideas of a supernatural realm? For goodness’ sake, my great aunt Betty accomplished a lot in her life. She was born in a time when women were severely disadvantaged, and yet went on to become a leader in her synod and an excellent schoolteacher. She will have lived to 95 and been surrounded until the end by a loving family who are all torn up to see her go. So why, in her case and in that of so many others, is it necessary to fill one’s life with fantasies about supernatural beings, to have one’s thoughts far away on a spirit realm when the meaning and profundity are right here, in reality?

I’m almost tempted to say go ahead, believe whatever you want. It’s a free country. If something gives you comfort and support, believe it, even if it’s obviously false. But then I am reminded of the news headlines of the past week: young children assassinated in Palestine last week in botched infighting among Muslims; scores dead in mass inter-sectarian kidnappings in Iraq; rewards given (exclusively) to Christian inmates in US prisons as a result of “faith-based initiatives” under the current administration; a polygamist/rapist Mormon preacher finally on trial. And I say, no way should people be allowed to comfort themselves with false beliefs when people are suffering as a result of them. You can’t have the supernatural belief system without the real-life consequences of it. If you truly believe there are 72 virgins waiting for you in the afterlife, then of course you should blow yourself up in the market. If eternity really awaits, and it is like how the Bible describes it, then of course you should keep slaves, trade and dominate women like they are chattel, and kill and throw down the altars of anyone who doesn’t worship your god. You can’t have one without the other!

Damn it. Now I’m all worked up.