Friday, April 14, 2006

Hoppin' Down the Bunny Trail

By Surly

So it’s Easter.

Now before you get your Shroud of Turin in a wad, let me state for the record that I’m in no way a theologian, or even a run-of-the-mill “believer.” I grew up in a “non-denominational church” (which I’m pretty sure means “we’re not really sure what we believe, but we don’t want to burn in hell so we’re trying to cover our arses”), but it has probably been 20 years since I’ve been to services. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I have no idea what I’m talking about. Please keep that in mind before you send angry letters to the management.

Anyhoo … Easter is the one holiday when I truly consider the possibility of God. Christmas may be a celebration of Christ’s birth, but to me it’s just a scheduled family reunion (and don’t even get me started on Arbor Day). But when push comes to shove, I must admit I truly believe in God, even though logic would say otherwise. Faith – go figure.

And this is where the conflict comes into play – how does one raised in Christianity marry a belief in God with a roll-your-eyes approach to the Bible (particularly the Old Testament)? While I have no trouble believing a chick was responsible for the loss of paradise, it seems absurd to think God just dropped a guy down into a sweet-ass country club. Intelligent Design might be getting a bad rap, but it sure seems to be the best way to accept both God and Darwin.

We could go on and on about the literal accuracy of the Old Testament (are we really supposed to believe Noah rounded up a pair of monkeys from the Amazon? Or penguins?!), but in the spirit of the season, let’s focus on the Resurrection. Back at my cover-your-butt church, I was baptized after “accepting that Jesus Christ died so I might live eternal.” But if God exists, do I really need to believe that Christ is His son? Is it not enough that I agree with the teachings in the Gospels?

In the end, my first instinct is to believe that obeying the Ten Commandments would be enough to get my hand stamped for the Pearly Gates, but a quick personal inventory reveals that I haven’t exactly done a stellar job in that arena. Maybe I’ll just eat a chocolate bunny. Surely He is aware that I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, so perhaps the sacrifice of consuming a pound of sugary filth will make up for all the adultery.

I can only pray.


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