Where the Hell is God When You Need Him?

Religion has been on my mind the last couple of days. I was raised in a very Catholic household on the Southwest Side of Chicago. Irish, natch. I know very well how important Catholicism was to my parents. And I know that their shared faith was what got my parents through some very, very difficult times. Three of my brothers died between 1959 and 1967. If my parents didn't have their faith and their love for each other, either one or both of them, could have gone spinning into metal oblivion.

Unfortunately their faith didn't quite carry over to the next generation. I don't believe in God (or a supreme being under any other guise) and religion just depresses me. Especially in terms of what is taking place right now with Himself (the Holy Father in Rome) and the Muslims. I don't want to turn this post into a political diatribe, but I will digress to say, will someone please give the Muslims a quarter so they could go buy a sense of humor.

I have nothing but respect for religion and truly religious people. Anybody who truly tries to live and embody the ideals of Jesus Christ, Mohammed, Moses, or the Buddha, anybody who values love and peace, and doesn't care which people other people are kissing, is OK with me. But as far as I'm concerned I find damned little evidence for there being any kind of a God that would give a shit about what is going on here on Starship Earth. If there is a God I'm sure he's so embarrassed by what man has done to his Creation that he gave up on us years ago.

But here's my problem. I get very emotional at the concept of a "Loving Father in Heaven". Someone who loves me unconditionally and without judgment. That is such a freaking powerful idea. I kind of understand why people fall for it.

You know that old story about “Footprints in the Sand”? The one where the guy is talking to God about his life and they are looking at footprints in the sand and there are two sets of footprints and God tells the guy that those were the times when they were walking together and everything was good in the guys life. Then the guy looks at the parts where there are only one set of footprints and those were the tough times in the guys life, and the guy looks at God and says, hey where the hell were ya’ then ya’ bastard. That’s when I needed you, and God says I was there. Those were the times when I was carrying you.

I love that story. It makes me choke up every time I hear it. The Irish have a saying: May God hold you in the palm of his hand. That is such a beautiful image. That’s what religion should be about. It makes me want to be a believer. If I thought that there was a God that really cared, I think I would fall in line and join his club.

But I don’t so I won’t.