Journal

Faith

What are we supposed to feel when we discover that most of the things we want to say have already been said hundreds of years ago? Happiness, on realizing we’re not alone? Sadness, that we’re not unique?

Just felt like sharing something Dostoevsky wrote:

I believe like a child that suffering will be healed and made up for, that all the humiliating absurdity of human contradictions will vanish like a pitiful mirage, like the despicable fabrication of the impotent and infinitely small Euclidean mind of man, that in the world’s finale, at the moment of eternal harmony, something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all the crimes of humanity, for all the blood that they’ve shed; that it will make it not only possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened.

It should be noted that this primitive desire, if left untamed, invariably leads to much suffering and exploitation, and ends up as one of the biggest tragedies of humanity.

One thought on “Faith

  1. There was a time when this world was huge, faith we were taught by, lived by, trusted in, faith was all many people to hold on to. The world became connected by satellites, it shrunk, all the different faiths started to collide. Conflict started, it has turned into a rolling boil. Now faith, great as it is for an individual or village is tearing the world apart. Faith without love is only bitter conflict.

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