I don’t believe in the word toleration, though I can’t help tolerating others’ behaviors and actions at times. Living in a culture where you should have one of the five officially approved religions written on your national ID, I’ve learned also to acknowledge lies and hypocrisy. No need to say how much they irritate me – yes, I am that nice girl. Besides, it doesn’t help to be radical in this country when it comes to not having any religious belief, trust me. It’s not worth it.
It was a fine Sunday morning. I took Olga to her Sunday school (she is in a prep to receive her first holy communion). The night before she told me that next week there would a recollection and all parents were invited. I wonder if I could skip, I asked her half-jokingly. That good girl of mine said no. She then asked if I still remembered how to say prayers. I remembered, at least, The Lord’s Prayer and Hail Mary.
“Do you still pray at all, mom?” she asked me one night. I told her that I didn’t want to burden God. He must have been swamped in work, answering prayers, I said. She laughed, but I could read concern on her face. “But what if,” she further asked. “What if you were on an airplane and it’s about to crash, wouldn’t you pray?” I would. Also in situations like when my loved ones are seriously ill. I would so… absurdly… inconsistently… pray. Hoping for a miracle to work.
Other than those extremes, I’d rather work things out by myself, or at least, by help of others (human beings). That’s why I hate how things work in the mainstream Hollywood movies. The deus ex machina mentality that they inherently possess. Things aren’t always that sweet, honey!
What I can accept about religion and its practices is that it is an effort in search for comfort and peace of mind. Like using drugs, nail biting, and sometimes, telling lies and being hypocritical. The recollection next Sunday? I’ll think up of something.