Nothing Like a Myth to Calm the Soul
We Have the Best Lies
Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a creature out there in the great cosmos that really did have the power to protect us?
I mean there are so many horrible things that can happen to humans, aren’t there? A little slice of life is filled with such ghastly events that it shouldn’t be surprising that we’re such an anxious, traumatized, and depressed species.
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Yep! A famous line from a child’s prayer. I guess our ancestors knew that dying in one’s sleep was the sweetest deal we could hope for when considering the innumerable gut wrenching, even terrifying possibilities.
Is it any wonder that every culture created godlike creatures that had the power to intervene on our behalf.
If we could just find a way to attract their attention, we’d then strive to please them hoping for something in return. Pounding on heavens door, beseeching the one in power became standard procedure. Of course, we suspected that if this almighty creature was really out there that the coveted protection that we craved would probably cost us dearly. After all, nothing is free in life.
So we set about trying to guess how best to bribe the gods.
Personal sacrifice was at the top of the list. It quickly became our best method of persuasion. Lots of rules evolved, usually making demands on our time, money, and pleasures. Any god worth her salt would expect us to pay a high price for her protection. So we became monks and gave up sex and we went to great lengths to make everyone feel guilty about their sex lives.
The more people we could deliver unto the gods, the more likely we’d garner favors.
Some of our ancestors even went so far as to sacrifice humans upon the alter to please the gods. If not human fodder then goats or sheep. Something must bleed. We get high on bloodletting. Pain and blood is such a big part of our lives that we found a way of glorifying it. There had to be a reason that life was so full of suffering. So we made up a reason.
Apparently, gods love blood. The very sight of it gets their undivided attention.
There was one very disappointing factor in these convoluted back stories that humans seemed to love. The protection that we craved never materialized. We just couldn’t do enough to please these gods. Some people made big claims that they were receiving personal protection, however. If a storm passed overhead and their crops were spared total destruction, they were sure that their sacrifices had worked. The gods were pleased with them. Hallelujah. Of course, everyone wanted that same protection. Why wouldn’t they?
We mustn’t forget those who began to prey upon the devout.
Opportunists who were able to convince the others who craved protection that they would intervene on their behalf and convince the gods to work miracles. Everything became a miracle after that, food, health, sunshine, rain, clothing, housing, you name it. Books were written about these miracles and stories about the gods personal lives became popular. People paid for the protection of gods like they paid their taxes.
Filling the coffers of the king or the priest, hoping for a few more miracles.
Anxiety, trauma, and depression continued to dominate human existence, but it felt comforting to have been supplied with answers to all the questions that haunted us. Why are we here? Where are we going? Why do we die? Why must I suffer? Is there life after death?
Temples, symbols, traditions, and rituals eventually defined cultures.
We belonged to a tribe with the best gods. Our gods would protect us from the enemy and reward us with riches. We would prosper because the gods, our great protectors, would perform miracles on our behalf.
There would be rewards for us in the next life.
Never mind that our children lost their lives in these wars or that plagues and pestilence, fires, disease, hurricanes, tornadoes, volcanoes, bizarre accidents, the things of horror movies haunted our dreams. Never mind that someone somewhere at all times was dodging bullets and clinging to life without any help from the gods, not so much as a pain pill. No, we continued to go screaming into the night and no one knew whether it was lights out forever or whether we entered the next life. If there was a next life no one knew whether it was a better life. Nor did we know where we were before we were born?
Deep down inside, we suspected we were offered lies to our burning questions.
So, then we were told that to even ask the questions would make the gods really mad. We had to accept everything with blind faith. Most people did. They weren’t any happier, safer, or better informed than the next tribe who was forced to accept their stories as the truth, but they stubbornly held on to their beliefs without question.
Their gods worked in mysterious ways.
Humans would never understand a god’s plan. It was far to complex for our minds. We needed to trust our gods to do what’s best for us. Everything was going to be ok. Our gods would never give us more than we could bear. Our gods would be by our sides in life, war, and death.
And the beat goes on and on and on to this day.
The human mind tortured by unanswered questions, deep fears of the unknown, an unlimited and horrendous number of ways to suffer, and a personal contract with death. We want protection. And, although the only way we can make life a little easier, safer, and endurable is to help one another, we want our gods to do the heavy lifting.
To cooperate with each other in order to make a better world for our children seems like an obvious choice, the only choice actually, but we choose to wait for our gods to perform a miracle.
These myths should have died centuries ago, but our big brains cling to them no matter how irrelevant they’ve become. In that respect, our brains have failed us. We don’t seem to be able to make it through life without our bedtime stories.
We’ve remained stunted, in an arrested state of adolescence.
Unable to accept full responsibility for the societies we create, making progress slow and regression likely. We know a god has never fed a hungry child. We know where the sun goes at the end of the day. We know what happens when we get sick. We know that humans are praying to statues not gods. We know all of this, but still we wait. We wait for our gods to perform miracles. The gap between our technological advancements and our social advancements is getting wider and wider.
Like it or not, we’re cavemen with cell phones.
Yet, on a subconscious level we already know what to do. We have a sneaky suspicion how to alleviate much of our manmade suffering. Some of us know because we register high on the empathy scale. We see others suffer and it burns a hole in our heart. Others have experienced a glimpse of a better world when they’re forced to suffer personally. Suddenly, it’s as clear as a bell. They may not have been born with a bountiful supply of empathy, but personal experience is a great teacher. The best.
At last, they finally want radical change.
If only we could use our creative juices to imagine a better world and then to really do something about it. Rather than wait for a fictitious super hero to intervene or postpone this long overdue achievement until the afterlife, why not start now.
We don’t need another prayer.
We don’t need another super hero. We don’t need another bedtime story. We need to give up the fantasies and accept reality. I know it’s scary but we’re all we’ve got.
It’s just you and me, kid. That’s it!
Teresa Roberts is a retired educator, author, world traveler, and professional myth buster. You can find her books on Amazon.
