Think about it. In the face of all rational thought and essentially zero supporting scientific evidence, the vast majority of humans on this planet—creatures capable of coming up with calculus, space flight, and the seven-layer burrito—believe in some kind of invisible superbeing. Why?
Lots of reasons: because the world is too awesome to be an accident. Because we had some kind of mystical (therefore illogical) experience that convinced us God exists. Because we were raised to believe. Because a book told us to.
A lot of us talk to this invisible superbeing, or beings, or force. Sometimes out loud. We make offerings to it. We believe it grants us special abilities or favors. Most of all we believe that it takes some kind of personal interest in our lives.
That is just flat out batshit nuts.
The only thing I can think of that’s nuttier is believing that said invisible superbeing wants us to kill people who believe in a different invisible superbeing.
But at its heart, the amazing thing about this kind of insanity is that it’s beautiful and, if properly applied, it can make us better people or at least help us live happier lives.
We make the mistake of thinking there’s something inherently wrong with being crazy when, throughout history, “crazy” has been mixed up with “genius,” “creativity,” and “inspired.” How do you know what’s what?
Personally, I know by looking at the lives of the people who make claims about their God. There are very pleasant forms of crazy—I’ve been known to exhibit a few. Despite the pharmaceutical industry’s belief that anything “abnormal” should be medicated back to baseline banality, the fact is, there are some great ways to be insane. It all really comes down to what you and your nuttery are trying to do with your life.
Kindness and love = good crazy. Blowing shit up = BAD CRAZY.
I’ve said many times that if religion were rational, it wouldn’t exist. Spiritual beliefs aren’t meant to be held up under a microscope and proven to the world. They’re meant to touch something that in itself can’t be proven or disproven. If people could just accept that all religions are equally crazy—and therefore equally valid—the world would be spared so much pain.
There’s nothing wrong with sprinkling a little fairy dust on the mundane. Life is a big ball of awful sometimes, and sometimes the only thing that gets me through is that fairy dust. But I can’t prove my Goddess exists empirically any more than someone else can prove Allah or Yahweh or Odin or Isis exists; neither can we really prove they don’t. That’s the neat thing about science, actually—in the end nothing can be absolutely proven, because all it takes is one contradictory piece of evidence to send a hypothesis back to the drawing board.
All we know is that we as a species don’t know everything; given the vastness of the universe we don’t know much at all. The concept of subatomic particles would have been laughed at back when they were burning Witches and bleeding people with leeches. Yet as backward as that era seemed there are still doctors using leeches in modern medicine. (Burning Witches, thankfully, has not proven useful in modern medicine.) No one person, time period, or school of thought has a monopoly on wisdom. No one religion has the one and only direct hookup to the divine.
That’s just my opinion, of course. But then again I’m a total whackjob for God.