“For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.’
This is probably one of my favourite scriptures. It applies to everything. It sums up life. The more you know, the worse things get. Ignorance truly is bliss.
I was having one of my ‘thinking moments,’ recently and I started to question why I believe. How can I believe? Why should I believe? When I look at the world – the past and the present – it gets hard to believe. It gets hard to accept. Being a Christian seems like a weak and passive choice. When the conversion of my ancestors, and of the rest of my race was a result of either slavery or colonialism, is my faith simply a form of neo-colonialism? Is Christianity the new shackles? Is it a way for the ‘master’ to keep me passive? Is it his new way of making me passive in the face of injustice? Does he idolise forgiveness because he wants me to forgive the wrongs of his ancestors so that he does not have to give me reparations for the pain? Is he making me prioritise love so that I am faced to suppress the anger that I feel about racism? When the leader of the free world is a racist Christian, how can I claim to believe in a God that allows such things to be done in His name?
I get the whole argument that race is a social construct but bar the race as phenotype and not genotype argument – when the privileges of race are so blatant – it doesn’t really matter who created it, it exists and it is killing people. Christianity supposedly took my people out of their barbaric state, it saved us ‘uncivilised’ people, it spared us death. I wasn’t looking for a saviour and I doubt that they were either.
I don’t pose these questions because I have an answer. I pose these questions because I have questions.