Comparative Religions

I'm reading Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. I am fascinated by her explanation of the various religions she was exposed to growing up in Kenya and Somalia and Mogadishu and Saudi Arabia.

There were so many restrictions when she was in elementary and high school: Don't let your feet be seen—it will turn the boys on. Don't let your shoulders be seen. Don't. Don't. Don't.

Her descriptions of all the proscriptions reminded me of growing up Adventist. We were prohibited from wearing sandals or sleeveless dresses to school, as it would excite the boys. We had to wear our dresses long enough that, when we knelt down, they would touch the floor. We couldn't wear makeup or color our hair or wear jewelry. We couldn't drink caffeinated beverages or eat meat. Some of the proscriptions were to avoid exciting the boys; some were taken from Old Testament verses about adorning oneself; some were health tenets taken from the writings of Ellen G. White, the prophet of the Adventist church. "Be in the world but not of the world" was a frequently-heard admonishment.

As I grew older and started attending non-Adventist educational institutions, I met more and more people who held other beliefs. I had been instructed during my years in Adventist schools that Adventism was the only religion that had it right. Those who didn't accept the Third Angel's Message were going to hell. Especially Roman Catholics.

My favorite boyfriend from college, GMP, (Yes, if he called me today and asked me to come to Orlando to see him, I'd be on the next plane!) was Catholic. I remember going with him to his brother's wedding and loving the rituals of the Catholic church. Similarly, when my brother got married, he and my sister-in-law began attending an Episcopal church. I loved visiting there with them. There was something comforting about the rituals of these historic religions—something very unlike a religion founded in 1844 that was so intent on forcing "Saturday is the Sabbath" and "we're right and everybody else is wrong" down one's throat.

Listening to Hirsi Ali describe the various religions, the religions founded not on Christ but on other now-historical figures, I am struck by the element of control that is integral in all these religions.

In my thirties, my therapist offered that the reason I had become a programmer was that the computer was the only thing in my life I had been able to control.

Why must there be so many "don't"s? I know with Adventist kids, there were so many things we weren't allowed to do, we looked for every little thing that wasn't specifically banned and did it to the max. We never talked about sex, so we did it as much as possible. There was much promiscuity and many babies conceived out of wedlock. (Thankfully, not by me!) And there was an enormous exodus from the church as those of us brought up in the 50s and 60s got to adulthood and started thinking for ourselves, an activity that had been totally discouraged throughout our school years.

I've long held that kindness, if substituted for all the religions of the world, would solve all the ills. Let's think: What if Bernie Madoff thought about kindness instead of greed when dealing with his clients? What if Scott Peterson was driven by kindness instead of anger? And a million other examples.

I know I'm being simplistic. I know that many criminals are driven by mental illness to perform their egregious acts. And many "bad actors", as we referred to them in law school, are driven by selfishness. (There are a lot of tax non-payers in the news lately—is that greed or selfishness? Or are those two words synonymous?)

I just think, if we could run the world on kindness, selflessness, self-restraint, accountability and good ol' common sense, we wouldn't need all this religious bullshit that divides people and tears countries apart with holy wars.

Oh, the self-restraint and accountability part? With those, we wouldn't be in this economic mess we're in.

Just my opinion.