musingsonwomenshealth.com

Reflections on 40 years as a doctor in Women's Health

Believe me


What is it about religions which endorse beliefs that often seem so… well, irrational? And for that matter, why do those beliefs seem so compelling? Is it merely the other-worldly components that capture our attention: the mysterious and inexplicable outshining the everyday unpolished world? Or is it more than just magic? Does it instill in us, a sense of significance –cosmic significance? As Stephen Hawking once suggested, ‘Science tells us that humanity is just a chemical scum on a moderate-size planet, orbiting around a very average star in the outer suburb of one among a hundred billion galaxies’. Maybe we need something more positive to add to that.

Still, I have to wonder if many religions really contribute anything other than a sense of tribal cohesion: that we are us, not them; and whether the social resources they often manage to supply add anything to our sense of cosmic significance: our sense that an individual actually matters in the vastness of the universe.

When I was young and forced to go to Sunday School, the need for religion was obvious: God, like Santa Claus, knew what I was doing, so I had to watch out. God, in those days, was all-powerful, all knowing, and part of His job (the capital ‘G’ God was a Him, or a He then) was to check on me to make sure I wasn’t stepping over the line. Although people may have mattered to Him, it was probably only as an annoyance; we were like ants on His heavenly tablecloth, flies to wanton boys. He was a big God.

As I grew older though, I began to think that even the idea of god was immature; he was not a Sunday School God, he was a superstition, a primitive explanation for things we didn’t understand in Nature, a false agency hypothesis. Now, though, as I approach my own epilogue, I am not so sure…

I don’t know if the idea of god is just an incarnation of the mystery of Life in which we and all other living things are embedded or, rather, simply something to which we have subscribed to make bearable the exigencies of our existence: a flickering candle to ward off the night.

Still, I suppose it’s important for people to believe there’s something else, something more than this vale of tears. I have to admit that, although I’m still agnostic about any specific religious tenets, I can’t deny there would be comfort in the thought that there’s a heavenly parent somewhere who’s looking out for my wellbeing. But, be it a watchful parent or the fell clutch of circumstance that prevails, religion is sure to ignite a discussion; believers take their god seriously -even in a dark corner of Starbucks.

My favourite table there is one along the wall in the darkest corner -I suppose that’s why it’s usually free- but one day I had to compromise and sit at the next table over. I was curious why anybody else would choose to sit in the shadows, so naturally I eavesdropped.

Two men were sitting at the table, one nicely dressed in what seemed to be grey flannel slacks and a white tieless shirt open at the neck, while the other, in dark colours, was leaning over the table and talking so softly I had trouble hearing him. I wanted a closer glance so I accidentally flicked a napkin off my table; he was wearing a white clerical collar. How could I then not pay attention to what they were saying?

“That’s not how I see it, John,” one of them said, but I couldn’t tell which one it was in the shadows over the table. “Maybe we’re just coming at it differently, though.”

The other one -John, I guess- shook his head slowly, obviously disagreeing with his friend. “You weren’t there when my sister told me her daughter had died, Leonard; Melissa had fallen off a swing at school and hit her head on something…”

Leonard waited quietly, knowing John had to keep talking about it, keep processing it.

“I held Josie in my arms; I tried to console her, but how do you console a mother when her only child has died a meaningless death…? She kept asking me why God would let a child die while she was playing. We both knew the the usual consolations about God’s Mysterious Plan, and Melissa now being in His loving arms were nonsense: she was dead, and she was in nobody’s arms anymore…”

Leonard sighed and reached for his friend’s arm. “People need to believe she is, John… Don’t you see that?”

John raised his eyes to examine Leonard’s face and shook his head sadly. “Want to believe, Lennie… There’s a difference, you know. They want it to be true, so they can read meaning into their own lives.” He stared at Leonard’s hand for a moment. “And yes, they need it to be true… otherwise, what’s the use of carrying on?” He took a deep, stertorous breath and sat back in his chair, defeated. “I need it to be true, but after all these years, I realize I’ve been deceiving myself. Pretending I understand…”

Leonard sighed quietly, seeing the confusion in his friend’s eyes; John looked absolutely terrified. “So, does anything still have meaning for you, John?” That produced a tiny shrug. “Would you even recognize it anymore?”

He waited for a reaction and smiled, but John remained silent, his eyes somewhere faraway.

Leonard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think meaning is the thing we’re looking for in whatever we don’t understand -as if it is somehow lurking inside it, like the components of a recipe.”

John glanced at him briefly, curious about where this was going.

“But sometimes we just have to accept that we may never know…” Leonard continued.

John rolled his eyes and shook his head, the trace of a smile budding on his lips. “You sound like a priest, Lennie…”

“Tell me I’m wrong, then.”

The smile grew. “Tell me it helps…”

“There doesn’t always have to be a reason you’ve received a gift, John. Sometimes it’s not so much understanding why, but accepting with thanks which is important. You should know that…”

For a moment, John stared at his friend with a puzzled expression. “And how does that help? People need to know why something disappeared before they can even begin to accept its absence…”

Leonard’s smile seemed to take over his entire face. “Why is a flower, John? Why is love? They are presents we are given. Does it really matter if we don’t know why? It’s as important -more important- that we accept and enjoy them, while we have them…”

John’s face softened at his friend’s words, and he sighed. “You’re wasted as an accountant, Lennie…”

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gozzter

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