Random perspectives on religion, philosophy, faith, skepticism, life.
Door
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Do we not all come into God's House imperfect, heads bowed, sinners one and all? Each comes in thru a special Door according to time, temperament, circumstance, and a soul's need.
Above all, believe God has a certain Door for you, uniquely designed but with universal compassion, all Doors framed by the same joyful Welcome.
First Voice: There isn't any proof. None. You take the Bible's story on faith. Whether the entire sixty-six books, or just the Old Testament, or only the first five books. All the versions of the Bible's content require believing without tangible evidence for any of it. Whether it is the ageless wisdom of the Torah, or the joyous Good News of the Gospels, the scripture in this and every holy book similarly compell readers to accept details as full narratives, or as confirmed, structured thought well beyond challenge or alternate understanding. The Torah claims a Messiah's arrival is yet pending. The New Testament says God, i.e., Yahway, Jehovah, Christ, Holy Spirit - sent his Jewish Son to die on a cross for the sins of man, thereby redeeming humanity for all of eternity. Neither story persuades me at all. Both belief systems stretch reality beyond rational possibility or anything plausible, desirable, or with arguably noble motives. I could never believe an allegedly...
This morning I briefly walked around an ancient cemetery, my thoughts swirling and unsettled. Ending another blessed week with my amazing mom here in Mojave, we've had a grand time together. Nearby is the Hardyville Cemetery, all that is left of a town that once thrived with steamboats and cargo along the Colorado River, all gone. There was a somber air this early morning, walking in the desert. It seemed so far away from the news, the shouting headlines, all the world's hubris faded into dust. I've read this tiny, sixteen plot burial acre, with various sized piles of rocks separated by neat rows, has a dubious past. A tragic history of massacre, untold cruelties to the local river tribes living in the valley for nearly a millenium, they were crushed by many settlers, all vanished now. I thought of this past election, all the vitriol, hating, sore divisions. The silence of the small cemetary seemed to mock the shrill urgency of recent days - how it's all the same to t...
Once upon a time, people knew all the answers. Questions were rare and usually just asked rhetorically. Folks nodded knowingly about nearly everything. Words were less needed, or just a noisy distraction. Language became simple looks and gestures, and speaking would lose its reflexive urgency. Silence was highly valued, for some even exalted. Solitude was the ideal vacation. Being alone was a blessed gift.
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