On Hell

You know what sucks? Having interesting Christian readers but disagreeing with them on basically everything spiritual other than your basic good/evil ethical discussions.

Specifically, Gary spoke of Hell this past Sunday and it got me thinking about all of the times I had to hear about Hell in church.

You see, Hell is not just ‘a place’ or even ‘a thing.’ It’s an entire belief system in and of itself. There can be no good without evil, light without darkness.

If there were no Hell, or no “final resting place for assholes”, religion would have a hard time existing. If there’s one thing I always enjoyed about Christianity, it had a fairly solid revenge streak. The whole Old Testament is mainly about God bringing down the smack for this reason or another.

Of course, then you begin breaking it down into morals, but let’s not go there. I’m talking about Hell as a place that you’ve read in books.

Because, let’s face it, no one has ever seen a picture of it. No one’s ever been there, no one’s even seen a roadsign that can show them the way.

Isn’t it strange that faith is based entirely on what you can’t prove, and a big part of that is believing fiercely in some really horrible shit?

I mean, damn, Hell is pretty scary when you try and describe it. And you know why? Because it’s only been described in the most fearsome, scary terms imaginable. There is no happiness, no hope, no home, no fun, no pleasure.

Mmm…just mix up your “no’s” and let the fun begin!

By contrast you can get Heaven. Take everything bad about the aforementioned Hell and flip it over.

The problem is creating psuedo-Hells such as purgatory. Is this a place? Why or why not? And does the fact that your flavor of religion not believe in it make it any less (or more) an actual place?

One of the conundrums that always bothered me about organized religion was that some people simply could not practice it (think tribes in the rain forest) and what would happen to them—weren’t they going to burn by default?

This is when you enter the hazy area of excuses by which people are ‘saved’ without knowingly or actively being saved. Since the Zulu nation has no idea the Holy Ghost is out and about, and Jesus died for their sins and so on, then they’re still okay with their own rituals and beliefs—no knowledge of Christ, no harm, no foul.

Which always sounded to me like cop-out BS. There are only grey lines in most ‘modern’ religions, where people are exempt due to one thing or another. The older a religion is, the darker the lines get—gay people are bad, abortion is outlawed, condoms are sin, etc.

Let’s take another example: Children. At what age are you responsible enough for your actions to begin charring your skin in the dark underworld? Five? Ten? Teenager-dom? Because I know plenty of teenager assholes who deserve a good flame from the Devil or whomever runs the show down there. If only 18 years and up sins were counted then I would be pissed, because I was Mr. Goody Two-Shoes in high school. I never so much as touched a beer can until I graduated.

Lastly I simply wish I understood how fear is such an active and healthy mechanic to bring people to belief. I’m no stranger—it’s been well programmed in my brain to wish for The Almighty to give me a little of Almighty Help when things get bad. As an atheist, if I can even call myself one based on these slips, if I get in a car wreck or if I’m in a hugely desperate situation, the big G word hits my lips and I try to work my way out of it.

The point is, giving people a ‘choice’ of burning in a lake of fire and relaxing in a gorgeous pool surrounded by virgins or family members (depending on your religious flavor, again) is not a choice at all.

And sometimes, no choice is all I ever think about religion any more.

I can’t hear a sermon without thinking of agenda. I can’t read scripture and not think of the hundreds of hands that molded the phrasing and words to their current shape. I can’t think about Hell without thinking of Memnoch, his misunderstood ways and his fictional story that as a teenager made me think that there was more to life than Heaven or Hell and the search or fear of it.

Maybe there were better things to do with my Sundays and Wednesdays.

Maybe religion isn’t as powerful as it appears to be. Maybe we’re just lost. Maybe we’re just ‘looking’ lost (a strong biblical metaphor, I know).

Maybe I don’t care. And that bothers me. Because I greatly respect those who can lead others, who can make others feel loved and cared for and a part of something. Because church is, if nothing else, a club to belong to. I once belonged, but their beliefs were a bit too much.

I don’t want to believe anymore.

I just want to understand.

Religion should appeal to the hearts of the young.
Who are you? What have you become?