Our Mother, Who Art in Heaven
Forget God the demanding Father. I want God the devoted Mom.
Like many others, I was raised to believe in the patriarchal God of the Bible — a bearded, robed arbiter of hard justice, mankind’s Creator and Heavenly Father.
As an adult, I’ve abandoned this religious legacy. I’ve seen not one whit of proof that such a divinity exists, and even less evidence that belief in him has improved the lives of my ancestors.
We are a miserable bunch, and our religious beliefs seem only to have added to our suffering.
Lately, as I travel this life without a god — without a clear idea of what a creator of this world might resemble — I’ve decided that if I were to choose any deity to worship, it would surely, clearly, obviously not be an overbearing father figure. Instead, it would comprise the qualities of a loving mother.
Daddy dearest
God the Father has always been a tough nut to crack — an ancient somebody’s idea of a strongman, I suppose.
He’s moody and unpredictable, requires a great deal of praise, is into blood sacrifices and blood sports, and is both unsmiling and unyielding. A real egoist.
Although this father-god does take an occasional interest in his offspring, his support isn’t freely given. He expects all the credit when things go well, yet is strangely absent when life falls apart.
He loves his children based on their willingness to venerate him, and when they stray, he punishes them — often by withdrawing his love, sometimes by literally slaughtering them.
He clearly cares more for his sons than his daughters.
I’ve known dads like that, myself.
The God of the Bible believes that his children are flawed. He views them with a critical eye, and is ashamed of and disappointed in his own creations.
I’ve known dads like that, as well.
Forget that god. That god is a jerk.
Merciful mother
What I need — what I think we all need — is a benevolent mother. God the Mother, from birth to death.
Of all the love I’ve encountered, a devoted mother’s feels closest to divine — in nature, as well as in the human realm. Good mothers regularly sacrifice their comfort for their offspring.
Mothers go hungry. Mothers endure hardship. Mothers work themselves to exhaustion. A loving mother will go to great lengths for the sake of her children.
I’ve been a mother, myself. I remember carrying my infants to term, pushing them out with remarkable pain, yet without resentment — feeding them from my own body.
I want a god like that.
I spent a year and more waking at night with my babies, calming them, nursing them, playing with their little toes, fawning over their silken hair, learning their scent, watching their moods, memorizing the shape of them, wondering at their beauty.
I want a god who feels like that about me.
I want someone holding my hand when I’m scared or facing a difficult challenge.
I want someone to stay with me when I’m puking and gross, when I feel completely unlovable — when I have acne or my body’s changing, when I can’t understand my own emotions, when I feel ashamed and worthless, when the kids on the bus call me names.
I want a heavenly mother who sees the best in me, wants the most for me. I want a god who will chase my bullies and fears away, stand between me and danger, see my potential, and love me even when I make a mistake.
Perhaps you’ll say I’m overgeneralizing, and the truth is, I know very well that all mothers aren’t god material. I know, too, that there are stellar fathers out there. I’ve seen them in action. I wish I’d had one, myself.
The god we currently worship, though?
The one who exterminated nearly all his creations with a flood, who commanded Abraham to murder his beloved son as a test of faith, who created humans to worship him, and throws them into everlasting torment when they won’t — when they can’t?
He isn’t even a passable father.
A different direction
What would our society look like today if, instead of worshipping a narcissistic father-god, we venerated the qualities of a good mother? Would we treat one another with greater compassion?
Would we, emulating our maternal deity, see one another as precious and irreplaceable? What sort of madness made us turn from a mother’s example of love, forbearance and care, and bow down instead to a disapproving father figure?
A friend of mine, while we were discussing gods, told me that humans need religion — that most people must have something to believe in, something to hold onto. It’s necessary for their peace.
If that’s true, then I think we need to make a change. We’ve seen what the worship of this current god has brought us — the wars and bloodshed, suffering and bigotry. We’ve traveled this broken road long enough.
Let’s invent, instead, a god who sees us as perfect, who calms our fears instead of stoking them — who guides us with wisdom and treats us with tenderness, the way a good mother does.
I want someone to help me over the curb when my legs are too short, to kiss my scraped knee, to dry my tears.
You can believe whatever you want, but I choose a god like that.
