Pretending What's in Your Head is True
“As the enemy came into view, their sheer numbers made it clear, none of us would survive. We might make it through the day, maybe another night, but when the smoke and rubble were eventually cleared, everyone would be dead. I could only imagine what the future might look like?
“Did we ever really exist?” I wondered. By tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter.”
It’s a hell-of-a thing to be able to see the future. The past is gone, but is not dead. It is alive and well, even if it bears no resemblance to itself. That’s the problem with the past. Once it’s gone, it’s gone for good. It will be resurrected now and again, mostly by people who weren't there and are too young to know any better. In response, old wounds are reopened and salt is rubbed deep. The pain is the irritant, reminding us again and again, of our sins, even if they aren't really our sins. We are connected by the pain, regardless.
This pain is manufactured, as an act of contrition. Because it’s better to feel something than nothing. They could just as easily let somebody punch them in the face. I would gladly volunteer. That, however, would be theatre—and in a world without divine purpose, we’re left to fend to for ourselves, when it comes to finding a purpose.
That is the real question for modern society; how do you find purpose when this new society tells you there is no purpose, only a meaningless, random struggle for survival?
But hey, who’s to complain? Absent God, we can do whatever we want. Let me act out my will to power—at your expense. That will be one direction we can take.
The other way is to pretend we have a purpose. That is also a gift of modern society, in particular, science. Lie to ourselves, and if we lie with conviction, maybe we’ll eventually develop a genuine sense of conviction. But I doubt it. That was one solution offered by no less a figure than Richard Dawkins. The man who is possibly the world’s foremost atheist, whatever that means. Dawkins appears to be having second thoughts. Not about God, mind you, but what happens when you put God to death. What takes God’s place?
This is what prosperity always seems to lead to, which is curious. Why? The only answer I come up with works like this; we are all children. If not chronologically, we are in terms of our understanding. We fumble through life trying to avoid danger, trying to get enough to eat, to procreate, to find love and meaning. And, if we don’t eventually find some purpose greater than our own existence, we live life with a death sentence, which is always there, observable in every news broadcast, and every movie, or TV program. Death and life go hand in hand and cannot be separated. Take a person’s religion, then, and you may very well rob them of their purpose, and, in doing so, you may rob them of their life.
Some people will say that religion is false, as if they know what is true.
Ask them. “What is the truth?” Give me a scientific description that is something more than a thread of knowledge, strung together with a few talking points. Tell me how it works. With very few exceptions, almost none can explain their new beliefs, any more than they could when they were deeply religious. They only know what they feel, and they cling to that new feeling like a branch in a typhoon. This is no less true of scientists, although they’re unlikely to admit it. This is also the best indicator of just how unsure they are about their new religion. Because all of us are children in some way. Prosperity simply gives us a momentary respite, creating the illusion that the immediate problems of life and death have been solved.
So, if someone says they’ve found the answer—maybe they have—and maybe we should shut-the-hell-up, trying to convince them otherwise. It’s just a thought. Life has enough pain. No need to inflict unnecessary wounds as a reminder
Mark Magula
“Did we ever really exist?” I wondered. By tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter.”
It’s a hell-of-a thing to be able to see the future. The past is gone, but is not dead. It is alive and well, even if it bears no resemblance to itself. That’s the problem with the past. Once it’s gone, it’s gone for good. It will be resurrected now and again, mostly by people who weren't there and are too young to know any better. In response, old wounds are reopened and salt is rubbed deep. The pain is the irritant, reminding us again and again, of our sins, even if they aren't really our sins. We are connected by the pain, regardless.
This pain is manufactured, as an act of contrition. Because it’s better to feel something than nothing. They could just as easily let somebody punch them in the face. I would gladly volunteer. That, however, would be theatre—and in a world without divine purpose, we’re left to fend to for ourselves, when it comes to finding a purpose.
That is the real question for modern society; how do you find purpose when this new society tells you there is no purpose, only a meaningless, random struggle for survival?
But hey, who’s to complain? Absent God, we can do whatever we want. Let me act out my will to power—at your expense. That will be one direction we can take.
The other way is to pretend we have a purpose. That is also a gift of modern society, in particular, science. Lie to ourselves, and if we lie with conviction, maybe we’ll eventually develop a genuine sense of conviction. But I doubt it. That was one solution offered by no less a figure than Richard Dawkins. The man who is possibly the world’s foremost atheist, whatever that means. Dawkins appears to be having second thoughts. Not about God, mind you, but what happens when you put God to death. What takes God’s place?
This is what prosperity always seems to lead to, which is curious. Why? The only answer I come up with works like this; we are all children. If not chronologically, we are in terms of our understanding. We fumble through life trying to avoid danger, trying to get enough to eat, to procreate, to find love and meaning. And, if we don’t eventually find some purpose greater than our own existence, we live life with a death sentence, which is always there, observable in every news broadcast, and every movie, or TV program. Death and life go hand in hand and cannot be separated. Take a person’s religion, then, and you may very well rob them of their purpose, and, in doing so, you may rob them of their life.
Some people will say that religion is false, as if they know what is true.
Ask them. “What is the truth?” Give me a scientific description that is something more than a thread of knowledge, strung together with a few talking points. Tell me how it works. With very few exceptions, almost none can explain their new beliefs, any more than they could when they were deeply religious. They only know what they feel, and they cling to that new feeling like a branch in a typhoon. This is no less true of scientists, although they’re unlikely to admit it. This is also the best indicator of just how unsure they are about their new religion. Because all of us are children in some way. Prosperity simply gives us a momentary respite, creating the illusion that the immediate problems of life and death have been solved.
So, if someone says they’ve found the answer—maybe they have—and maybe we should shut-the-hell-up, trying to convince them otherwise. It’s just a thought. Life has enough pain. No need to inflict unnecessary wounds as a reminder
Mark Magula