A couple of weeks ago I wrote a column about how I didn't have much faith in the major and minor religions and their associated beliefs. Some people were annoyed.
Some were offended. Some seem to believe their beliefs should be respected but don't believe the same respect should be afforded to those of us who hold what could be described as non-beliefs or alternative-beliefs. With the exception of a correspondent called Paul Daly, the response from Christians seemed to me to be mostly unChristian, which I've found is often the case.
In my column I said I was mellowing, that I was starting to care less about what other people believed, however unlikely I thought those beliefs to be. I was then accused of rubbishing people's sincerely held beliefs. And I have to put hand on heathen heart and agree that I did that. I just don't understand why anyone with sincerely held beliefs cares what I, or anyone else, thinks of their beliefs.
Believe what you like. Or don't believe. Believe that little children should be told what to believe. Believe only men can be priests and that sex outside marriage is a sin and that a woman should not have control over her own reproductive system. Believe the use of condoms, which prevent diseases and unwanted pregnancies, is wrong. Believe the church administration always did the right thing by the children of this country. Or don't believe.
Believe that divorce is a sin. Believe the world is only a few thousand years old. Believe the Vatican is entitled to treasures beyond our wildest dreams while 30,000 children die every day, every single day, around the world. Believe religions don't cause wars, people do. Or don't believe.
Believe what you like. Believe sinners will burn in hell. Believe homosexuality is wrong. Believe in holy wars. Believe Buddha was right when he said life is suffering. Believe what you like.
Believe that without organised religion, the world would be a more peaceful place in which to live. Believe women have always had a raw deal from male-administrated religions. Believe children shouldn't be brainwashed. Believe schools should be open to everyone. Believe in love. Believe, like John Wesley, in doing all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, to all the people you can, as long as you ever can. Believe in the Four Agreements. Or the Ten Commandments. Believe. Or don't. It's nobody's business but your own. If your beliefs or your non-beliefs are rubbished, just make like Jesus and turn the other cheek.
I'd like to come out of the spiritual closet now, mortifying as I know it will be. The truth is I have a sincerely held belief in a power, a spirit that lives inside each one of us, that is each one of us. I believe in one doctrine. Love. Yourself and each other. Just love. It's mortifying because it's a relatively new belief, as tender as the early days of a new relationship, as fragile as the snowdrops that have just appeared and just as beautiful.
I believe this power, this spirit, call it He or She or We, moves in mysterious ways. I believe that because I've been in full anti-religion mode recently it was arranged for me to have some thought-provoking encounters with religious individuals. At Daniel's christening last week the priest talked about chakras during what was the most informal, easy-going baptism I've experienced. His gentle manner made those heathens present see past all the bizarre trappings of the religion - that exorcism bit really is bizarre - and allowed us to be touched by the joy of our gathering together in order to officially welcome Daniel into the world. It wasn't particularly important that this was a Catholic ceremony. The message from the priest was about loving Daniel. Or that's how it seemed to us.
I have a sincerely held belief that He or She or We, wants us to celebrate life. Last week I was introduced to an inspirational young woman called Breda and she told me about the gospel choir mass in Gardiner Street every Sunday at 7.30pm, and so I went and felt the presence of the spirit inside me and inside everyone else packed into the church. And I ignored parts of the ritual that are part of someone else's belief, not mine. And I said my own prayers, the ones that make sense to me. So rubbish my belief. Or don't rubbish it. It's only love. It's all, it's everything, we have.