Sometimes the Jehovah’s witnesses come by our house. When I do have the time, I usually have a chat with them instead of slamming the door into their faces, like most people here seem to do. They are usually friendly people and it always interests me why people believe certain things, especially when they are so convinced of something so elusive. I envy people with deep religious convictions. It must be a great comfort to them. Apart from all the other reasons, I could never become a Jehovah’s witness, due to their stand on the “natural” holidays like Christmas and Easter.
So, I’m a pagan. Celebrating the seasons and relishing the moment is essential to me, and to many other people as well. That’s what makes you feel connected to something larger than yourself, which is one possible literal meaning of the word religion (re (again) + ligare or “to reconnect”).
I love the birds singing in the morning, the sharp light green of young plants, the splendour of summer, the earthy smell of pile of leafs and the crisp air of frosty evening.
The old church was smarter when it came to this, even though they were wrong on many other counts. They connected all these celebrations to their own, and we still celebrate them, covered in a Christian sauce.
If there turns out to be a God after all, I hope he will not mind me rejoicing more in his everchanging creation, than in any abstract concept of Himself.