It’s time for a
confession. Something happened to me, and I’m about to share it with you.
If that sounds an
unusually grandiose introduction, considering you’ve been suffering my blather
in this noble rag for 20 odd(!) years, it’s because there’s a substantial part
of me that can’t believe I’m really going to put this one into print.
Now I’m building
up your expectations of the tale, when what is important is not the story
itself, but my reaction to it.
Let’s go back to
August 2001. I’m living in north Co. Mayo, walking along a glorious sandy
beach. The sky is cloudless, the breeze gentle and warm, and I’m the only human
as far as I can see, hear or smell.
Stopping in my
tracks I splay my arms out, lean back in exultation and roar:
“Thank You!”
In an instant,
from deep inside and audibly all around me, a voice booms:
“No! Thank YOU
Charlie!”
Simultaneously, I
experience a fast-forward slide show of all the pain and hurt I had felt and
inflicted upon others during my life in California. I see 4 years of rage and
depression fly by. I see hurt morphing into comfort in that house in the
Claddagh. I see anger becoming love with the recent meeting of a lass, who
later becomes my wife. I see agitation
blending with confusion, emerging as delight and enjoyment. At that moment I am
loving my life, writing this colyoom and another in the Irish Examiner, selling
features galore, finally living my dream.
A second or so
later it’s over, and I stand there, alone on the beach. Staring at the ripples
of water running around my feet, I laugh out loud, as torrents of thought flood
my brain. ‘Woh!’ cascades
into ‘Spooky!’ and then ‘Whoops! I’m a crazy man!’
Despite the wonder
and awe I feel about what just happened, it somehow makes perfect sense. I
understand. I had been grateful and given thanks, but was then reminded that I
am merely a speck in the order of things.
My life’s path had
caused pain and damage, yet now there was the chance of repair; of joy on all
sides.
Hopefully you can
understand my trepidation in sharing this experience with you. Maybe you’re off
calling the men in white coats to come and get me.
“Oh look, Charlie
thinks he’s Joan of bleedin’ Arc! He’s finally losing it, hearing voices. He
thinks the sky’s talking to him. Oh, and his ego is so incredibly massive, he
actually thinks God is saying thank you to him!”
So it’s out there.
Sounds like I am too, but no.
I said this wasn’t
about what happened, so why have I just told you this most personal and whacky
tale?
The late Gerry
Ryan used to say it on his radio show, and recently I heard Newstalk's George
Hook say it again, with a giggle:
“Ah well, you see,
there are no atheists in foxholes.”
Clearly the
inference is that we all turn to God when in fear of our lives. The reason I’ve
been willing to prostrate my sanity and vanity in front of you is because this
smug self-satisfied denigration of others’ beliefs deeply upsets me. Respect should
be shown to all, not just the religious.
Personal beliefs
are no less worthy than religious beliefs, yet every time this colyoom mentions
religion, I receive abuse.
When I wrote about
the abortion referendum back in 1992, I received in the mail used condoms, a
dog turd, vile photographs and finally, unaware that I had been successfully
intimidated, I stopped writing about the Church.
My argument is no
more with Catholics than it is with my own Jewish background. I don’t give a
monkey’s if you’re a Muslim or a Sikh. You can be Humanist, Shoemanist or
downright Poohmanist for all I care.
I respect your
right to believe in what you wish. However I do not respect your right to
belittle or mock the beliefs of others. Anyway, religion itself is not the
issue here. Faith however, is personal, and until now, I’ve chosen to keep it
that way.
Regular
colyoomistas know I describe myself as a Jewish Atheist-Pantheist mutant, which
might sound like a randomly crass tumble of words, but actually best sums up
what I believe.
Personally I feel
no need for formalised religions, but as they influence so many people I want
to learn of them and from them all. Billions of people want a ticket beyond the
grave, and believe that if they obey rules, they’ll make it. On the way, their
faith will bring them great comfort; their religion will provide order in their
lives.
That’s genuinely
wonderful, but for me there is no outside force or figurehead. It’s all one and
yet nothing. Essentially I find no comfort in reincarnation or everlasting
life. Rather, I would find great comfort in them, were I to believe they
existed.
The human in me
wants to believe that there’s a latent benevolence behind the balance of nature
and the chaos of the universe, but I don't know. I’m an animal who will return
to dust, but on the way I’ll use my faith, my spirituality and moral codes to
live what I perceive as a good life; at least a harmless life, at best
beneficial.
So now you know.
I’m an Jewish Atheist-Pantheist who heard what others have called the ‘Voice of
God’, yet nothing changed my beliefs. There’s plenty that we don’t know. We see
neither the infra red nor the ultra violet in a rainbow.
Something happened
to me on that beach. It’s a beautiful mystery that makes no sense and perfect
sense, and I can live with that anomaly. Just because I have no formal
religious belief doesn’t mean I lack resolve in my own faith and spirituality.
So please, stop
patronising those of us who choose faith without religion. There are atheists
in foxholes.
© Charlie Adley
28.02.14.
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