Sometimes Faith Has No Answer

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.”

There’s no reason for a five year old child to be shot and killed. There’s no reason for twenty children to have their lives cut short. I sometimes understand war and hate, I don’t understand this. Tragedies like this don’t make us stronger, they simply leave holes in the hearts of the living.

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.

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