Jennie on Love and Religion

I have always believed in love, it seems, more than most people. I do not see it as a limited thing, or as something dependent on sexuality, sexual interest, or blood ties. When I look out of my window I see there a world which I love with the whole of my heart, and it is a great wonder to me that others, heavy in their hearts, seem blind to that great beauty all around them. That is not to say that there is never any reason for melancholy, of which I carry my share, or that there are not terrible things about this world, but that, to me, is all overwhelmed by the wonder of it. I have fought for love and I have been hated in its name; I will continue to fight, that it might flourish in all of its forms. To me, love is indeed the law, love under will. I accept that it can be unfortunate, and certainly unlucky, misplaced, deceived, naive, but I do not believe that it can ever be wrong.

My grandmother died ten years ago, and it was her death that got me to thinking about this. Her name was Rose; I thought of her as Thorn Rose, the sleeping beauty, because she hid from passion her whole life, and never opened her eyes. Though she loved two husbands, being a widow between them, she always seemed afraid to love the world, or, as she interpreted it, God. My ability to relate to organised religions is limited because I basically see all their positive aspects as hinging on the same thing, which is a great love of and wonder at the world, other creatures and other people, the source of joy; I feel no personal need to use allegory or personifications in order to attain that; I sorrow that so much evil is done in the name of these illusions which are mere steps along the way, and not the glory itself. It's trite but true - "Going to war over religion is like fighting over who has the best imaginary friend."

Rose feared God so much that she seemed unable to see Him; she pursued a code of living which, in her darker moments, she admitted she did not truly believe in, yet she kept on trying to believe, which to me went right against that code, in that it was dishonest and unreal; it wasn't about being herself. Surely if God could see that she did not truly believe, pretending would not help her. It might have been better to do as St. Paul, in one of his lighter moments, advised, and follow her conscience, follow her heart; love the world and give to the world all that she could, so that perhaps she would please God that way, and truly be close to Him even when she could not see Him. I cannot understand the degree of fear (and, I suppose, indoctrination) which leads people to choose structure and rhetoric over the natural path of the soul.