I’m not
really that political. I do not enjoy the exercise. It’s not that I have no
sense of fairness or interest in justice. I simply think that using politics as
a measure of a society is like basing the character of God on the Bible. We are more than mere representation.
I tend to not become involved. It’s not that I couldn’t care less, but it’s
entirely possible. I consider myself a democratic socialist although the label
is not my favourite part of being Canadian. I am far left of center when it
comes to governmental policymaking and any related social matter. I support
free speech and as a journalist stand firm on that position. I encourage social
movements, especially those that are inclusive rather than selective. I believe
that while Black Lives do matter, the movement would be better served if it
unified with other voices, other matters of societal concern. In fact, I
believe that All Lives matter, and therein lies the rub. All these movements,
standing alone, screaming to be heard. We need to come together, to stand
together, to rise up together. One voice should be all that is heard. Each
splinter faction, each individual expression would not find itself lost in the
whole, rather each would make up the whole. If all these lives count then we
should merge and stand hand in hand, arm in arm. I do not mean to suggest that
we should institute communal ideologies. Perhaps it may be that a unified
articulation would better serve the masses. Regardless, lumping all causes, all
movements together under one banner may not seem like the solution but it
strikes me as better than the way things are. We pick and choose what we buy
into. We select our crusade and not the other way around. We decide our
position in the same way that we pick and choose the God that we worship.
At the end
of the Bible, the book of Revelation (Chapter 17) warns humanity
of an anti-Christ setting up a one-world government and a one-world religion. In
these scriptures, mankind is forced to
choose between their own personal God (from a long list of modern options) and the
“one true” God (who just happens to be the demagogue in question). I hope that
things don’t end up that way. My Christian conditioning always leads me to an
unbalanced place. I often question my position, especially on the matter of
social justice. I would not want to do anything or say anything that would make
the cavern between the Lord and I grow larger. What if all the warnings are
true? What if the New World order to come is a
platform for evil to manifest as man? What if it isn’t all commentary and what
if I am wrong? What if one religion, one political system would only seal all of our doom? I would argue we
must come together now as a collective so that we can preserve our own sense of
faith and salvation. As with any political position one takes, deciding what
God to serve is a very subjective matter. We give our loyalty based entirely on
how we see the world and particularly how we see the focus of our divination.
On a good day, people tend to validate their belief structure based on those
things they find most appealing in a saviour. On a bad day, they either
chastise themselves for error or blame themselves for the void left regarding
any unanswered prayer they may have released. Each person believes differently,
even if raised in an identical manner. Our faith is unique, exclusive to the
individual. I was once asked how many Gods are worshipped on this planet on any
given day. I could have easily researched the answer, claiming a number that
really doesn’t mean much. Instead, I went with my gut response and stated “7
billion.” When asked to explain myself, I simply elaborated on how each person
has their own concept of the universe and that unity comes down to whether you
agree on a name for your God or not. It is within our own hubris that we assume
our salvation. Since our own way works for us then everyone else’s position is
flawed or repugnant. Our overbearing pride lies to us, often.
There is
common ground. Each religion holds something of value. Every religion, every
esoteric idea, even the most outrageous cult, holds some form of the divine
within it. If you take the time to look, it can be found. It all depends on
what you’re looking for. Like a mustard seed, it starts out small then it fills
with more. With enough time and attention, it becomes something much greater
than it was. No matter who you are, there is room for a harvest. You have to
cultivate if you intend to reap what you sow. If God is within, then He is
within us all. We already have one voice but we do not use it. I’m not even
sure that most of us know how to. Despite any warning from the Christians, I
believe that coming together and worshipping together is much more productive
for ourselves and our society than striving within the duplicity of varying
theological positions. Rather than worshipping the many, we should worship the
one. Whether we follow this deity or that deity doesn’t matter in the long run.
All our prayers go to the same place. All mercy, all grace, all our salvation
is filtered through the same process, regardless of what we call the object of
our attention. This kind of thinking is far more successful than one could
imagine. For example, the Bahá'í “ is
a religion teaching the essential worth of all religions, and the unity and
equality of all people.” With over 10 million followers worldwide, Bahá'ís
regard “the major religions as fundamentally unified in purpose, though varied
in social practices and interpretations.” Their base teaching strives for the wholeness
of all people. Their mandate is to bring “a unified world order that ensures
the prosperity of all nations, races, creeds, and classes.” If they can do it,
perhaps we all can do it. It works for them. The idea of a New World Order has
been demonized throughout the history of the Church. It may be viewed as evil,
and the cause of our destruction, assuming the results are predestined. I would
rather come together than continue to be apart. Look at the world around you
and ask yourself whether the gods we worship actually work in the greater
scheme of things. In fact, all the different religions and cults seem to
exemplify the problem. I just don’t find all the subjective interpretations are
something I want as part of my thinking. All lives really do matter, regardless
of their faith. I suppose I have become an Omnist.
I am an
Omnist and I believe in the validity of all religions. This does not mean I do
not have one specific faith structure that I exist under or a name for the God
that I myself worship. Omnism is “the recognition and respect of all religions;
those who hold this belief are called Omnists.” The earliest known use of the
term was by English poet Philip J. Bailey who, in 1839, claimed that “I am an
Omnist, and believe in all religions.” It’s all about the legitimacy of all
those religions. For the person who doesn’t make claim to any one faith, who
does not practice or believe in one set deity or energy, the truth lies in all
of them. Omnism is “a way to accept the existence of various religions without
believing in all that they profess to teach.” In fact, to an Omnist, “all
religions contain truths, but that no one religion offers all that is truth.” It
might be thought of as a “syncretism taken to its logical extreme.” The very idea
that there is a “single transcendent purpose or cause uniting all things or
people” makes great sense to me. If all religions hold “different elements of a common
truth,” then the Omnist is open to any such potential truth. The entire
ideology is more expression than formula, more esoteric than dogmatic.
Actually, there is a strong influence from existentialism, where "consciousness is a power or force that helps determine the
reality, yet is not a divine influence.” Omnism affirms “the necessity of one
arriving at an understanding of reality based on personal experience,
engagement, and inquiry, and an acceptance of the validity and legitimacy of
the differing understandings of others.” While it is more speculation than
theology, there is an “implied system of values or ethics.”
I was a
hardcore Christian, even for a fag. The suicide of my first partner only pushed
me further down that rabbit hole. I, once again, became somewhat of a
fundamentalist, holding to the literal readings of any scriptural text. I was
lost and tossed myself on Jesus. The Bible
became my touchstone. Even though I knew deep inside it was probably a
fruitless endeavour, I had to see for myself what this lifestyle really had to
offer. If Jesus was the answer, I was willing to field the questions. After
all, you cannot determine whether you are going the right way if you fail to
follow the path in the first place. I hoped against all hope and wished for the
things that my faith had always taught me one should pursue. I got washed away
in the blood of Jesus. I started to believe all the hype. I closed my mind to
other ideas and other belief structures. Like with any truly “good” Christian,
I turned my back on everything in hopes of gaining everything. I had to try,
even if a part of me cringed at the idea. Initially, it was confusion to have
such a schism fracturing inside my head. At first, it was easy to ignore
reality when I was safe in the Father’s arms.
I was so broken, so defeated that any offer, any tinge of rescue was
pounced upon in desperation. I had been to this place before. My late teens
found me born again almost every weekend. Despite the outer appearance, back
then I did not discover any true reward in my surrender. Everything I was told
to hate about myself stayed with me after every altar call. I never felt
anything but I had to try. I just played the part then went off to suck some
cock. Jesus took nothing and gave the same in return. When I met my
current partner, 20 years ago now, Jesus
took a back seat. Eventually, I just kicked him out of the car. I did not need
anyone else’s interpretation to clear the way. I studied. I have studied
theology for so long now that I pee scripture, and that’s on a good day. From
my early days of university through hundreds of exegesis after exegesis, this
inquiring mind is never satisfied. It has always been my intention to simply
understand rather than condemn. As a matter of fact, Christianity saw to it
that I view the world this way. They are an example, for sure, but a bad one I suggest.
Still, this way holds the same consideration any other faith would be granted.
There is truth in all religions, after all. I no longer believe that
Christianity holds all the answers. I do not believe it is the only way to have
a relationship with God. Like any other theology, there are truths that lie
within it. I guess I never had to turn my back of Jesus.
My
relationship with Christianity did not end well. Eventually, I realized the
restrictions any religion might use to hold their position. Christianity was no
exemption. It is because I was raised so that I had the hardest time separating
The Christ from the dogma of the Christians. It’s the same with any other
religious ideology. There is a grain of truth in everything but nothing is
exclusive in that truth. It was a hard day for me when I walked away from my
faith structure. I was trapped, suffocating on scriptures that I shoved down my
very own throat. I reached out for guidance and compassion and any semblance of
peace. All I found was a judgmental God with little concern for anyone but his
own congregation. I expressed my concerns regarding other faiths, other ideas
on salvation and was instructed just how wrong that interpretation was. I
learned quickly, as my virtual assistant ranted off a list of the things that
make following anyone but Jesus a fatalistic choice. Any other way (John 14:6) meant sheer doom. There is no
other way, at least that’s what they keep telling me. At the time, I left
Christianity because it seemed to offer me nothing but exclusivity. I never
ever wanted God all to myself. I discarded my faith and surrendered to the
unknown. A silent God is so much more friendly than a deity riddled by the tendency
to associate with only a select group. All these years later and I realize my
folly. I wish I had been freed long ago. I wish I had paid more attention to
the ethereal nature of God rather than the anthropomorphic side. My faith
changed and so did how I view God. My faith evolved and I became an Omnist,
even though I had no idea what that meant at that time. It was by definition,
not recognition. Distinguishing that truth is relative only convinced me
further that the way I am going, how I travel, is what works for me. I no
longer practice any organized religion or faith structure. I do not need one. I
rest safe in the Father’s arms, even if you think He only cares about you.
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