Sometimes faith has no answer.
I believe that my religious choice answers a lot of the big questions. It gives me direction on how to live my life; and I do so with joy while not harming others. It tells me what happens after death; everything that dies shall be reborn. It’s never explained why I’m here, but I’ve felt wanted (and needed) by my gods just the same. I believe that my faith has led me to a better place, but there are moments when it comes up lacking.
It’s not just my faith that comes up lacking, it’s faith as a whole. While discussing religious things on a Christian website earlier this year someone asked me how Pagans explain suffering, hunger, and senseless tragedy. It was a question I was unable to answer, it was also a question they were unable to answer. Assigning blame to “Satan” in a world with an all powerful God is as lacking as my own non-answer.
I feel my gods in times of joy. Celebrating upon a warm Beltane night I have no doubt that they are with me. When a sick friend drifts off into the Summerlands I feel them then too. Such moments hurt, but I understand cancer, and I understand hurricanes, and I even understand the negligence or irresponsibility that might cause a fatal car crash. What I don’t understand are senseless acts of violence such as those in Connecticut today.
There have been moments in my life of serendipity, I was drawn to others (and them to me), and have received gifts that were so random I attributed them to the gods. When an obstacle appeared in my way I would say “everything happens for a reason,” today I can’t say “everything happens for a reason.”
Within an hour of the shooting in Connecticut, lines had already been drawn. My gun-loving friends said that “everyone having a gun would keep us all safe.” My friends on the other side of the line put much of the blame on guns. Instead of getting a moment to grieve or process there was another debate with no easy answers. I didn’t want to shout at my friends online, I wanted to be held, I wanted to cry, and I wanted to pray for the souls who now await their next (and better) turn on the wheel.
I have looked to The Lady today, the motherly goddess figure I often seek out in times of my greatest need. I stopped and felt her arms wrap around me. There was comfort there, but when I whispered into her ear to ask “Why,” I got no answer, I could only feel the tear upon her own cheek.