in other projects, including this one, which I fit in at odd spare moments and sometimes for hours at a time, depending on my mood and my partner's schedule...
Yesterday I was at church. And sorry, I was too busy praying for my own heathen soul to pray for yours. I'll catch you next time, I swear.
Anglicans believe in angels, archangels and the whole host of Heaven coming down to share Communion with us. That's always been a bit of a stretch for me. Oh, I like the mythos of angels just fine (working on an idea around one, actually, sparked by CIC). But as for the real deal, Michael with his flaming sword? Um, not so much. And the other end of the angelic legend? Lucifer and his Fallen and Hell? Really, that's for the most ignorant kind of Christian, buying it hook, line, and sinker from the people who are trying to control them. (not trying to insult anyone here, that's just been my honest opinion. Bear with me, I hope to redeem that statement in a minute)
Except, when you hear High Mass and go through the ritual, and actually listen and tune in, as I was yesterday (sheesh, I needed to go to church, I didn't realize how badly), it's really tough not to believe. I mean, there's sort of a sweeping feeling I get sometimes there, just a peek through the window of Bigness, you know? I get it in other ways, too, like reading a really great book or that epiphany through my own writing, or laughing with my kids or hell, a ton of other ways. But yesterday it was at church.
I have something I pray for nearly every time, hell, every day. I can share it; it's no huge secret. I pray for my son. He's just got the kind of life that's tough. A lot of it is his own making. But at some point, as a mother, I have to wonder how much he can take, with how truly shitty some people can be, and even more, I wonder why? After this year, some of my hope for humanity has eroded.
So I'm sitting in church (well, I was kneeling at the time, we do kneelers) and I was thinking of my son and the angels and kind of vaguely wondering if they were real, figuring Michael and his sword would come in handy about now, and wondering if I didn't just believe in them, a little bit. And then it struck me.
If angels are real, do I really get to discredit the whole Lucifer story?
I know, a whole bunch of you think religion is all human construct anyway, and not even a particularly clever one... but I don't. I might not believe the Bible verbatim, but a guy doesn't make this big of an impression for 2000 years without there being something there to work with. When I think of the millions of people lost over the past thousands of years, I wonder why Him, and I can accept that whatever is at work is probably a whole hell of a lot bigger than I can ever understand. And I'm actually cool without that, though it doesn't keep me from trying. Hell, I like the fairies at the bottom of the garden.
But back to my son and Lucifer...what if all the little ills and hatreds we suffer really are perpetrated by demons? I'm not against hardship, per se, but it makes a girl wonder.
So, do you? Do you ever wonder?