The Broken Bones Of God

The Broken Bones of God

At the Eulogy, from the pulpit, two of his closest friends, that’s what they claimed, smiled as they stated how much they loved him, regardless of his little conspiracy theories, and in unison, the majority of the congregation giggled along, and in doing so they declared again, that victory had been achieved. This was the reason the facts don’t work. These people didn’t want the truth, they had a greater need, status, and this condescending giggling was the prayer of their new God.

I would wager, that if you got most of these people alone, secretly they’d all have doubts about the state of our World, and the weird things happening, but brilliantly, the powers that be, had long ago figured out that to defeat them all, all they had to do was turn these peoples lives upside down, then as they tumbled, our leaders would stand there stoically, on our tellies, and offer them the security of a new communal belief, regardless of the fact that the belief was clearly a lie. They were being offered a new God. A God they could access via a needle, and since they were all terrified of the fall, they readily converted. 

And the Dogma was simple. To remain safe from being publicly mocked, from being cast out of this new religion, you just had to keep all your doubts to yourself. You could either remain silent as they lied around you, or to be even safer, you could sit here, in the pews, and giggle along, with these mourners, as together you gently mocked this man who loved you and that you loved.

This Dogma, is why people are refusing to defend their fallen family members. Many now believe that the new sin, is to risk the community knowing that you have doubts. The new sin is speaking the truth. And the punishment for stating that the jabs, or rather the state, has or is injuring or murdering your loved ones, is being kicked out of the greater tribe. The Church of the Frightened.

So, as the clear eyes of the departed one, tried to reach us all from a video screen near the alter, the real victor, the Pope of this new Religion; Fear, relished his time being inside this church. This church that was now his, since everyone had agreed to huddle together around all his comforting lies and giggle. The condescending giggling they’d used to evict God.

I was born a catholic. I knew all the rituals, but I didn’t practice any of them, for they were less than meaningless now. Each response to a psalm, each sign of the cross, was an insult to our former God.     

Then, to make sure that those of us who were truly listening, received the news that our God had been defeated, the Priest, in his theatrical gown, preached to how we all had to try and be a light for the others.

I almost stood up, there and then, for I wanted to ask him, how exactly where we meant to see your light, Father, for when we needed it, when the lies were conquering our streets, you kept your doors, God’s doors, locked?

Jesus, the man or the myth, is the poster child of everything that is the best of us. Courage, love, wisdom, grace, hope and more. A man who shone so brightly, many claim they can still see his light.

Humanity’s light. The bulb that used to let us believe, that no matter how dark it gets, goodness, through integrity, and both physical and moral courage, will prevail and guide us back to the foundation blocks of a healthy society, decency and truth.

But what if that light is deeper than God; older?

What if that light is even more precious than the sweet promise of eternal life?  

I once watched a video where an Archaeologist was asked what is the oldest proof of civilisation that has yet been found?

She replied, that it wasn’t a pyramid, or an arrowhead, nor was it a piece of stone art, it was instead a healed, femur bone.

Way in our past, someone had broken theirs, and someone else, or a few people, a tribe, had taken the time it took to care for this person.  To heal them. That person, or tribe, must have risked starvation, perhaps attacks from animals or worse, other humans. Fear must have been constantly urging them to leave, pushing the case, that for the greater good, they should leave this fallen person to their fate, but regardless, these ancient carers persevered, and left us this healed bone, not only as a bulb of hope, or as proof of love, but for what it actually is; this healed bone was the womb of God.

God isn’t a building, or a ritual. He isn’t a man repeating words, as sacred statuettes stare off to nowhere.

He is instead, a young man, brought up as an atheist, who, in the Melbourne Struggles, as the police, over an afternoon shift, changed from our protectors to our oppressors, used to go up to these  police officers, with their cans of pepper spray and batons, and hold the crucifix up to their masked faces, forcing them to look, through their wrap around safety glasses, into the suffering face of Jesus.

I watched him, as time and time again, he’d move along the line, offering every officer a chance to ponder.

That was true courage.

This one young man, was a tribe of one, risking much, in order to pause and to heal a fallen loved one.

He was a tribe controlling their fear, to do what they knew was right.

This young man, without even knowing it, was switching on, again, that light that separated us from the animals, that allowed us to know, that we have, if we want to, a great tool with which to rebuild a far better world. And that tool is the ability to create Gods.

This is what we need now. The old God, despite all his cathedrals and funny hats has been evicted from our society. Cast out by our communal fear. A fear, tragically fed by the inaction of our priests and other spiritual leaders.

No, the God we grew up under, is dead.

We killed him.

But outside the churches, on the battle grounds, the new faithful, everywhere, are working to heal the broken bones of our communities. Every day, these new disciples are fighting the good fight. Often they lose, then pick themselves up and start fighting again. And the reason they don’t stop is because, in the war of our time, they have chosen a side.

They are the army battling to save humanity itself, and within the courage of their faith, inside their spiritually connected and growing global womb, our new God, grows.