Slowly, quietly, as gradually as spring spins through summer and fall into winter, I have grown moderately tolerant of religious belief. To a point. I have become willing to countenance ideas that I find odd and even absurd; not as truth, but as the context within which I must accept other people whose concept of reality differs radically from mine. This transition has been an odd, uncomfortable adjustment. The difficulty has, primarily, centered on getting over my rejection of notions I find nakedly idiotic. As a corollary, I have come to realize I must not characterize such notions as nakedly idiotic, despite the fact that, deep down, I do. That’s been tough. What has helped, though, is my acceptance of the fact that, looking at my life through the lens of the twelfth century, reality as I perceive it is simply magic and mystery. So, I have to accept that someone else’s reality may well dwell in another time, another place, possibly even another dimension of which I am blissfully unaware.
The reason I am putting these thoughts down is…? I don’t know. I suppose I want to have a yardstick against which to measure the evolution of my ideas. Whether I will continue to subscribe to this odd tolerance and acceptance is subject to time and experience. We shall see. I tend to believe that religion, as we know it, will not survive the inevitable onslaught of facts and truth and reality. Instead, the teachings of the religious leaders will survive as humanitarian ideas. Decency and decorum will be valued not for their religious significance, but for their significance in human interactions.
I am done with philosophizing for tonight. Well, for the moment. I have plenty more to think about, but precious little tolerance for debate, even internal debate. So I will plow forward with a glass of wine and an insatiable thirst to know so very much more than I have reason to believe I am due to know.