Sunday Morning

It was a very quiet day today; I had no religious or family events that would cause me to leave the house. But somehow I just couldn't help feeling the hushed hope of the holiday. You hear the term "arid atheist" applied to some people, and for some it might be true. But not for me—I'd call myself an awed agnostic.

I don't know, in other words. But I do consider most religions to be mostly myth, fanciful efforts by people with inadequate information to explain natural phenomena. Not that I have all the needful information my own self, mind you. I suppose that the universe(s) may have come into being the way the physicists say it (they) did, but I have no hope of understanding their explanations. I have to take them on faith. Other things I can grasp readily enough: the way energy is converted into the northern lights, or lightning, or an apple tree, or me. I do tend to feel more comfortable with science and rationality and I tend to be suspicious of magical thinking. And it's not a matter of taste; I think I'm right about that. Myth is facile, and reality confoundingly complex.

But still, that feeling. Maybe it's just that even more than Christmas, everything stops for this. It's the closest that we come, I think, to what was once called the Sabbath stillness. And maybe it's spring, and the sense of primal relief and inflooding hope deep, deep in our psyches. I don't know.

At any rate, I hope everyone has a nice holiday. If you're willing to let your religion be a private matter, you can believe whatever you wish and it's fine with me. And if you feel a sense of wonder about things, we may not be so far apart. Did you feel refreshed and hopeful, coming out of church? I'm glad. I look at the pink and white blooms on the tree branches, and the emerald green of the grass out my window right now, and I feel the same way.