As we forgive those that mutter platitudes to the wrong sky fairies,
(or the wrong platitudes to the right sky fairy).
My radio listening habits normally exclude any religious performances, as carefully as my televisual habits avoid soaps, but this morning I was caught out by the Christmas excess on Radio 4, and heard a blessing or two and what passes for the Lord's Prayer these days.
In my infancy, we were taught the Lord's Prayer, with the older words. We didn't understand all the words and we certainly didn't understand the full meaning. It passed for a mantra, some comforting words to be repeated while we could have otherwise been counting to 20. We came to realise that the local land-owners were not Christian, as they evidently had no intention of forgiving any trespassers; we perhaps learned that adults say things they can't explain, a God in three parts, and all the rest.
I am older now and much more cynical. The new words sound merely banal, but then I expect the entire service would have made the same impression.
I am an adult. I take responsibility for my own actions, I can construct a plausible explanation for the sum of time and chemistry producing intelligent life. There are enough mysteries, without believing in fairies. I cannot fathom the thoughts of friends and colleagues who profess religious belief.
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