"Don't Think Twice, It's All Right"

5.30.2009

Courtroom Theology

June, Ellie

Mr. Summers 

English 11 H

21 May 2009

Don't Thoughts Exist To Contradict?

theology [thee-ol-uh-jee]

–noun, plural -gies.

1. the field of study and analysis that treats of God and of God's attributes and relations to the universe; study of divine things or religious truth; divinity.

2. Originally applying to only Christianity


Religion is steadily versatile. No longer is mankind constrained to the pillars of monotheism; for, the guidelines of morality are now subjective from soul to soul. Throughout the year, we have, together, insecurely and steadily studied authors with challenging theologies with both valid and believable arguments. The world is a courtroom; however, we are not attorneys with duties to convince and convict. Instead, we are jurors, placed to empathize with our convicted prophets, who so tirelessly claim their integrity.


With the genesis of our literary explorations, we began interpreting the works of Puritan,   literary geniuses such as Anne Hutchinson and John Edwards. The two took the monotheistic approach to spirituality, claiming that not only that there is undoubtedly a god, but God, himself, predetermines his followers' loyalty.  


“I have been guilty of wrong thinking,” confessed Hutchinson, expressing her traditional Puritan theology of man's conviction and inherent corruption. In her eyes, man's inferiority to the Lord allows Him to debase us which indirectly glorifies him through which we finally feel the truest of joy. 


Venturing into the vast lands of Romanticism, we came across Nathaniel Hawthorne, the dreamiest of them all. As the godfather of natural poetic surreality, Hawthorne advocates a life far from civilization, one entwined within the vines of April. The most interesting aspect of a Romantic lifestyle is its versatility. Sure, most Romantics seem to prefer a Godless life, but devotion one would normally have for a supernatural being is, instead, used to glorify the Pines and Ferns. 


In modern times, this faith would be dubbed as Pantheism, a doctrine that identifies God with the universe, meaning the world is a microcosm of the metaphysical body of God. At the same time, some Pantheists are strict Atheists, claiming only  to worship the universe for the emotions rendered by its wholesome beauty. Emotion is the Romantic deity. “A pure man needs no glove to cover it,” Hawthorne once said. It is by intuition that man learns of himself. And if he, indeed, does adhere to the faint voice within his heart, he will never be faced with shame; for instinct never fails him.  

Mark Twain preferred to nix the nonsense. Thus, commenced the era of Realism. Through characters like little Huckleberry Finn, Twain cleverly portrayed his apathy towards faith and his simplistic lifestyle. A counter to Monotheism—Atheism professes a theology that no type of supernatural or superior being exists. 

“You can't pray a lie,” admitted Finn. If the action doesn't feel natural or render satisfaction, then its purpose is invalid. Prayer wasn't for him; however, he never once mocked the faithful. Rather, he let them do as they please.


Normally, I choose to remain pokerface; however, my religious beliefs (or lack thereof) is so radical from others surrounding me that it would be tedious not to give background. Raised in a culturally Islamic family, simultaneously in a religiously lax household, I was never preached to, insomuch that my parents frowned upon my Christian conformity a few years back. I attended a Catholic middle school against my will and found myself treading behind the pastors' daughters in faith.  I devoted my life to Christ, prayed to Him relentlessly, and persuaded myself that He was my savior and one and only. Needless to say—things have changed. 


To clarify a common misconception: Atheism is not Satanism. A person proclaiming disbelief in God does not directly connote that he is inherently evil or corrupt. How is he so sure the holy pages bound, he so preciously adheres to are steadfast? He can't. 


I do not intend this monologue to be an opportunity for the reader to evangelize me. I respect all faiths entirely, I really do, but let's start by addressing that I am, indeed, a devout Agnostic, dedicating my life to good thoughts, good words, and good deeds. My theories of a god-like figure vary and I am content with my inconsistency. At the moment, I don't believe in God; however, ask me tomorrow, after I've experienced a surreal coincidence and I might contradict myself. I won't subscribe to the whole Atheistic cult, because really, who knows if there is a metaphysical being? 


Bluntly stated--humans are ignorant for either stating complete and utter belief in an invisible creator and too full of themselves for denying blind faith. Why are we bound to choose one over the other? The human mind is far too insignificant. You will never comprehend  the meaning of life. Your pastor is fatuously respected when he is only man-weak, stupid, selfish. “These liars warn't no kings nor dukes,”  explained little Huck Finn, “...But just low-down humbugs and frauds.” Then again, the Atheist you met on the plane last week--he's nothing but a fraud who obstinately thinks he's deciphered the world's mystery.  My doubt is my dogma. 


In short, I wholeheartedly believe my purpose is to use my mind, hands, and energy to benefit this treasured world around me, to see as much as I can and if that means I will one day witness Jesus rise again, so be it. I'm sure he'd be just as satisfied with me. 

5.11.2009

Welcome To My Sub-Reality


Time speaks in a tongue familiar to its own kind. Then there is man who presumes that all factors pertaining to this world can empathize with his trivial issues. The clock keeps ticking without your consent, young fellow. 

I place myself in a time capsule, in a time bomb, really and never let a single molecule of modern air seep through the poor steel-plated mechanics. Keep dreaming or prove your intentions.

You're moving at your own pace and it's tedious waiting for your snail strides

You're a hologram; I can scarcely see you, let alone feel your blemished, transparent skin 

No- you're more like sunlight, casting it's rays without my blessing, you angelically possess this power to tint my skin a color only visible during the birth of the year

You're a curse on my lungs and startle me, choosing sporadic minutes to steal my quivering breath

You're a catastrophe, arbitrarily casting grief and terror within the depths of my core

You're a ghost to me

You're time, so temporary