A Personal View of Religion

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The author may be contacted via e-mail at harlynn@panix.com.

I have often tried to fathom why religion, in its many forms, is so important to many people throughout the world. I think that a very simple, but accurate explanation is that, throughout history, man has wanted a semblance of control over random events. The feeling of being tossed about in a sea of illogicality is unbearable. After all, we are the most sophisticated animals on the planet. Surely there has to be a very special reason for us having been created. Unlike the common dog or cat, we would not just return to the earth after death. We probably live forever, and, if the Christian model of heaven is explored, we will live in a kingdom where the streets are paved with gold, and where sickness and disability no longer exist.

Life is not easy, and it is a comfort to many to believe that suffering has a purpose. Why would a woman who has led a quiet life find herself with a blind child? Perhaps because through this child's handicap, the mother would learn important lessons that would stand her in good stead, and because of the suffering she endured trying to bring up her son, she was most assuredly guaranteed a place in heaven. The boy, who had to live with such a devastating handicap, would learn to see the important things: he would judge the world by how he was treated, and he would become a barometer for good and evil. Because his suffering was done here on earth, he would have to worry much less about his place in heaven when it came time for him to die. His earthly suffering would be rewarded, if not in this life, then in the afterlife.

The problem with this scheme of things is that it doesn't make a bit of sense, and it tries to put a fairy-tale-like spin on life. The purpose of this article is to try to show that religion as we know it not only does nothing to enhance our lives, but more important, it is actually a negative belief system.

A Dose of Realism

The sad truth is that we have very little control over what happens to us, and a great many of our misfortunes can be predicted if given certain data. For example, I was born almost three months prematurely. I was born in 1949, when very little was known about how to best save a child who weighed 1 lb. 14 oz. The doctors knew only one thing: for a baby to survive, he needed oxygen. I therefore was placed in an incubator and given high doses of oxygen. In addition, bright lights were used, perhaps as a way to keep me warm. The result of this was that my retinas were damaged, and when I came out of the incubator, I was totally blind. Many babies were blinded in this way. In fact, I have a friend who is only 19 years old, and who was also blinded because of a miscalculation in oxygen quantity.

Now, some babies who were put in the incubator retained partial sight. Some did not experience any eye damage at all. I know a set of twins: one boy is totally blind, and the other has perfect eyesight.

What a field day this situation would be for the religious. They would attempt to find reasons why some babies were spared their sight and others weren't. As I was growing up, some superstitious Jewish women would not let their children play with me. After all, my parents must have done something awful to merit a blind child. Perhaps the family was "fastruft" (meaning "cursed" in Yiddish) they would say. My mother, who was brought up in a very traditional, religious Jewish home, began to realize how narrow-minded many people were. She knew that she had done nothing to "deserve" a blind child, and she also knew that her little boy wanted friends, and deserved to be treated better. As she became confronted with many negative attitudes, she fought to give her son what she could. She went through many phases, even taking me to a Christian faith healer. If it could be done on TV, maybe her son could be healed, and he would have a better life. But having a person put hands on me, say some words like "I command the demon of blindness to leave this little boy" had very little effect.

I am ashamed to admit that, at the age of 24, I went to a church to ask for healing. A woman covered my eyes, another one beat a tambourine, and a third one screamed out biblical verses. Believe it or not, I was not healed, but something did happen. It suddenly dawned on me that I was blind, would always be blind, and that I was wasting my time, energy and intelligence on chasing rainbows that I couldn't see anyway! Once I had accepted this, I could go about my life. I wish I could see. I know my life would be very different if I weren't blind, or could get my sight back, but it won't happen. So, I have to make the best out of the hand that was dealt to me. And this hand was not dealt to be by a loving god who wanted me with him in heaven, but rather it was dealt to me because of shoddy scientific knowledge about the damage too much oxygen could cause to a premature baby's eyes. Not very romantic as a theory, but the absolute truth.

An Insidious Hold

I sometimes listen to religious programs on the radio, and it saddens me that, as we go into the new millennium, these programs seem more and more widespread, and are actually causing a great deal of fear and concern. Many people are stockpiling food, as they fear the world is going to end. They would do much better to understand how computers work, and call their federal agencies to ensure that all computers are Y2K compatible.

But I would like to talk about the negative impact which religion has had on my life, and how it was not until rather recently that I was freed of its insidious hold.

When I was 13 years old, I was given a bar mitzvah. This is a ceremony where a Jewish boy of 13 reads, in Hebrew, a portion of the Bible. He is then proclaimed a man, and is allowed to be a part of adult religious rites. The synagogue was quite excited about the publicity which would be generated by having a totally blind 13 year old boy. The cantor spent a lot of time with me, teaching me the part of the bible I had to recite. It was quite long, and I had to learn to read Hebrew braille. In addition, it was chanted in a very complicated way, and I had to learn the different tunes and inflections. I did well, and was ready for the big day. I never thought of how meaningless it all was because everyone was so excited. And then, on the day before my bar mitzvah, we learned that another boy was having his bar mitzvah, and that in addition to chanting the haftorah, he would be allowed to read a short portion from the torah itself. I wanted to do this also, and my mother felt that I could braille it, and then say it. Why should this little boy be allowed to do it and not her son? The Rabbi told her that, according to Jewish law, this particular portion had to be "read" directly from the torah. When my mother said that I could put it into braille, he said that this was against religious law. Since I couldn't actually see to read, I would not be allowed to say this portion of the service.

My mother was absolutely furious, and told the rabbi that he was penalizing me for being blind and this made no sense. He said that she was a very bad woman to dare to talk to a man of god like that, and that this was the law, and that there was no getting around it. It was too late to find a more open-minded rabbi, and we had to go along with it. I was filled with incredible hatred against the rabbi, the ceremony, and the whole bar mitzvah ordeal. I went through the motions of saying my haftorah, but all the joy had been taken out of it for me. I listened as the sighted little boy read a passage from the torah. I knew I could have done as well, had I been given the chance. This was the turning point for me and my family. After my bar mitzvah, we basically stopped all religious affiliations. We celebrated some of the holidays, as I liked the traditional chants and songs, especially for Passover, but the actual significance of the holidays meant nothing.

Rites of Passage

While I was growing up, I made vain attempts to be accepted by sighted people. To this end, I joined different religious groups. I did this because, unfortunately, only religious groups make a pretense of accepting disabled people. This is the sad reason why so many blind people align themselves with religious groups. Think of how uplifting it is for a blind man or woman to be able to get up in church and read a prayer or a lesson. They are being included, which is very rare in general society. Many blind people, even those with extreme intelligence, fall into this trap, as it gives them a place to go on Sundays, and makes them a part of a group. After all, religions traditionally reach out to the most despised people: the homeless, the very poor, the disinherited, etc. For a blind person who is basically having a hard time socially, this is a way that he can find acceptance.

I passed through this stage. When I was a freshman in college, I went to christian science meetings. I listened to how this world was a dream, and how physical sickness did not exist. All I had to do was change my way of thinking and I'd be sighted. After all, god was perfect, and only made perfect things. I found little comfort in this, and I couldn't help wondering why, if blindness weren't real, then why were all of the books put into braille? Perhaps it was a good mental exercise. I finally decided that the christian scientists were not "doing it" for me, and I decided to go to a regular christian church. This also left me cold, and I noticed that, when I wanted to make friends, I wasn't very successful. It was hard pretending I believed something that made no sense to me. The idea of praying to a man who had been crucified was quite strange. When people talked about a "personal relationship with god" I wondered if they weren't a bit schizophrenic. How could you have a relationship with a man who died thousands of years ago, and who may not have even lived! It made no sense to me at all.

I then tried the mormons, but their service was incredibly boring, and I fell asleep.

As I grew older, I began to realize that religion gave me no comfort. I was too practical. I did not respect people who, under the guise of helping others, went into different countries to preach their own ideas and submit the population to a given agenda. I felt this was akin to mind control and blackmail.

With Strings Attached

As a blind person, I am often in a position where I need help. I have found absolutely no difference in the help given by a "religious" person and a person who has no religious beliefs. In fact, one of my best friends in an atheist, and is one of the kindest people I have ever met. He also has a very high standard of morality. I think of him in contrast with "religious" people who go to synagogue, but who manage buildings so poorly that tenants don't receive basic services. I think of my dentist, who has a daughter who is super orthodox. This woman would not even show me where a seat was located "because I cannot touch a man." I think of the many times I have called churches, trying to get people to read to me, and how my requests have fallen on deaf ears.

One experience that I never forgot was when I met a young man in a wheelchair. He was a jehovah's witness. I would talk to him, and once I told him that I needed readers. "No problem," he told me. "I'll get some members of my church to help you. He called me back a few days later and said that he found some people who would be willing to read to me and even help me with my shopping needs. I was really excited, and thanked him profusely. Just before the conversation ended he said, "Oh, by the way, we will expect you to go to the kingdom hall and learn about god's word."

"Well then, we can't help you," he said. It says in the bible that "we must walk in unison light." I hung up in disgust. How stupid I had been to hope that a religious person would do something without an ulterior motive.

Conclusion

As you can tell, I have little if any respect for religion. I think that being religious, quoting verses, and listening to a pastor can be extremely dangerous, because you stop critical thinking. You blindly accept what you hear. You do not question. You become a parrot, spouting quotes that have little meaning in today's society. You begin to judge others by what you learn, not by what you feel to be right. You are often taught cruel, intolerant points of view. Your motives for helping others are to try to get them to think the way you do, rather than just doing something kind for someone without expecting anything in return. This really upsets me, because I think that our society needs people who care about others without wanting something in return. When help is given because you are trying to "save souls" it becomes an invasion of people's privacy, and is no longer genuine help or kindness.

But, what gives religion a strangle hold on many is that people are expected to follow without thinking. The moment you begin to question what you are taught, and begin to have doubts, you are threatened with losing your salvation, and going to hell. No gold-paved streets for you, but rather the fiery furnace. For me, this is just fine; and because I like it hot, I'll be comfortable there. And perhaps, I'll even find some interesting friends who think for themselves and who have opinions!