Santa Claus Is Coming To Town in a Manger
We are getting into the time of year when Mom used to warn I better be good or Santa Claus wouldn't come bring me presents. I don't know if those warnings made me better behaved, but it sure didn't hurt. I was taking no chances.
Mom wouldn't lie. Somehow, Santa was at the North Pole making a list and checking it twice, monitoring me all day, and then deciding if I had been a good boy.
Something similar happened all year in regard to church. Sunday school teachers, preachers, Bible readings, and parents all warned me I had to be good if I wanted to get into heaven. It wasn't clear if that meant not stealing or murdering, or if picking up my toys made me good enough in God's eye. St. Peter was like Santa, keeping a check list to show to God when I died and appeared at the pearly gates. Could I stay "up there," or would I be sent someplace underground to burn in eternal damnation?
Scary stuff, for sure.
When I got older and found that Santa didn't come to my house on Christmas Eve any more, I wondered about that guy upstairs. Would he punish me for running in the halls at school or for making fun of other kids to make myself look and feel superior?
Confusing stuff, for sure.
I believe now that God doesn't sit on a throne in the clouds and punish me for poor behavior, like drinking myself into oblivion. I believe God is inside of our unconscious minds, testing us often and helping us learn and grow as we take his tests. When I die, my soul will live on in some other form or maybe come back to earth in a new body to learn and develop more.
It doesn't matter if my spiritual beliefs are right or wrong. What matters is that I seek to do God's will and help others do the same. It also doesn't matter if your faith is different. It is your's and if it works for you and enhances your spirituality in this lifetime, I am joyful for you. If I can lead a loved one or a total stranger to a higher power and sobriety, then thank you God for my new understandings.
It is beyond my understanding, however, to know what happens to a soul who hates Jews so much he kills 11 of them in a Pittsburgh synagogue.
Mom wouldn't lie. Somehow, Santa was at the North Pole making a list and checking it twice, monitoring me all day, and then deciding if I had been a good boy.Something similar happened all year in regard to church. Sunday school teachers, preachers, Bible readings, and parents all warned me I had to be good if I wanted to get into heaven. It wasn't clear if that meant not stealing or murdering, or if picking up my toys made me good enough in God's eye. St. Peter was like Santa, keeping a check list to show to God when I died and appeared at the pearly gates. Could I stay "up there," or would I be sent someplace underground to burn in eternal damnation?
Scary stuff, for sure.
When I got older and found that Santa didn't come to my house on Christmas Eve any more, I wondered about that guy upstairs. Would he punish me for running in the halls at school or for making fun of other kids to make myself look and feel superior?
Confusing stuff, for sure.
I believe now that God doesn't sit on a throne in the clouds and punish me for poor behavior, like drinking myself into oblivion. I believe God is inside of our unconscious minds, testing us often and helping us learn and grow as we take his tests. When I die, my soul will live on in some other form or maybe come back to earth in a new body to learn and develop more.It doesn't matter if my spiritual beliefs are right or wrong. What matters is that I seek to do God's will and help others do the same. It also doesn't matter if your faith is different. It is your's and if it works for you and enhances your spirituality in this lifetime, I am joyful for you. If I can lead a loved one or a total stranger to a higher power and sobriety, then thank you God for my new understandings.
It is beyond my understanding, however, to know what happens to a soul who hates Jews so much he kills 11 of them in a Pittsburgh synagogue.
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