In the normal course of events, I don't discuss religion much; but there's cause today to do so. Our house troll, Francis Holland, has made the remarkable discovery that the Progressive movement hates not merely Hillary Clinton (though that would be something of an overstatement), but God Himself. I must disagree with him on that – Francis arguments, such as they are, can be found here and here - and not merely because I think Francis' eschatalogy of Hillary is getting to be a bit grating, not to mention theologically unsound. I'm reasonably certain that God doesn't vote in our primaries, in part because God is English and isn't entitled to do so; meanwhile, those who think Hillary Clinton is the Messiah in a pantsuit, I mean, come on, people. No matter how much one may or may not support her: the election of any one individual is not going to make pretty pink ponies fly in the sky, or magically undo all that is bad in the world. Would that it were so, but it's not - and it's definitely not going to happen with Hillary.
But first, allow me to speak briefly about me. My religious background is in the liberal Catholicism of Western Europe. Catholicism, take it from me, is properly understood a wonderful thing (I'm just going to gloss over that Inquisition business for the sake of this argument). We've managed to weave, over the last two millennia, a gorgeous tapestry of rituals, architecture, folkways, music, literature, theology, figural and painted art, that is in sum and at the very least aesthetically pleasing. Western European Catholicism gave rise, among other notable refinements to the human condition, to the Social Gospel, which maintains that the measure of our love of God is our treatment of the outcast, the dispossessed, the despised, and whether we press our lawful governments to better their lot. Under Catholic theology, not paying your laborers a fair wage – not merely what you consider fair, but what is fair – is defined as a Sin that Cries Unto Heaven For Vengeance; as they say, people go to hell for that, maybe a doctrine that Catholic Bush appointees to the NLRB should take note of.
Whether one buys the entire gilt-encrusted kit and caboodle is of course another question entirely. For myself, personally, I've decided that I'm not equipped to know whether or not there actually is a God, and that to claim otherwise would be presumptuous. We are all small, simple – some more so, some less, eh Francis? – humans shuffling merrily about on this mortal coil, making clumsy stabs, in the dark, at the Unknowable. There has to be an element of uncertainty in any kind of transcendental belief, however, an uncertainty that doesn't lend itself to either full-fledged belief or its mirror parallel, atheism. Myself, I'm humble enough, and patient enough, to trust that if there is an answer to the question, I'll find out one day; and if not, no harm done, no fair, no foul. There's value in acceptance of uncertainty, and meanwhile, I can enjoy a good Requiem when the mood strikes me, not to mention ignore some of the ideas floating around in the Church that are a tad less appetizing.
So that's where I'm coming from. Now, to Francis. That's below the fold.
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