I’ve rarely found kindness, compassion, courage, or love in so many self-proclaimed holy places and things…

… in ornate churches, synagogues, mosques, and temples.

… cloistered convents and monasteries.

… Fatimas, Wailing Walls, and Meccas.

… pietas, mosaics, and frescoed domes.

… wafting incense, grand processions, and fiery sermons.

… baptisms, ordinations, and other baffling sacraments.

… hypnotic hymns, chants, and mantras.

… ancient scrolls, holy relics, and rosary beads.

… confessions, penance, and self-denial.

… fasting, abstinence, and self-flagellation.

… prostrations and public displays of piety.

All so eager, it seems, to shun the “fallen” world.

Seems to me that a person, place, or thing is consecrated not by divine command, patriarchal decree, covenants with supernatural agents, readings from dusty old scriptures, the sprinkling of magic water, or the loosely-directed mumbles known as prayers.

Seems to me that divinity is not something to be discovered or bestowed upon… but is created… often in the most modest of places… with every act of kindness, compassion, courage, and love… no matter how humble.

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more like this… Finding My Religion

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