Imagine a set of stories written by a group of (presumably) men recorded roughly 2000 years ago.

Then imagine cobbling them together over hundreds of years, with lots of politics, eventually resulting in what we today call a book.

Imagine that some of the stories get included, while others are discarded. Yes to Matthew and Mark. No to Barnabas. Hard no to Esther.

Then imagine translating this collection of stories. Multiple times. Interpretations of interpretations.

Imagine extra parts of this same set of stories being discovered in ancient Dead Sea pottery - then being ignored entirely.

Then imagine cultures and civilizations taking this old art project so seriously that they use it as a basis for law and policy.

Now imagine gullible fools who are dumb enough to take this book -to terrorize and kill others who don’t follow its rules. And “preachers” who profit from spreading a doctrine of fear and hatred.

Religion is the corpse of spirituality. Dead, disconnected, and largely unpleasant. Unless of course, you run the church.

I prefer my Divine alive. In the earth, the clouds, the seasons, and the gift of being alive. Religious people can keep their book, and have fun with it. Just keep it off of my life please. Ugh.

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