“Reality”, as we have expressed her in the arts of religion, has become somewhat of a monstrosity. Painted over nature in words and symbols is the
vandalism of a thousand artists, who have all seen fit to draw on her their values and meaning and purposes, twisting her into a poem so that she
sounds sweeter in our voice and in our thoughts. These idealists seek to explain her away with gods, other-worlds, souls, after-lives and the like,
all enthusiasm and lust for anything but
the world the way it is—which is, at least on the surface, enthusiasm and lust for nothing. They
intend to brand this hatred “love”.
When I tell a self-proclaimed spiritual man that I no longer require the conceptions of soul, God, after-life, mysticism or New Age spirituality to
make life enjoyable, they feel bad for me, as if I was henceforth doomed to walk the earth as a lifeless shadow, a thinking ape, unable to take part
in the spoils these mystical forces are sure to bring. Of course, gods and souls and heavens live only in our books and verse (the only places these
non-entities can ever be found) but yet there are those who value these words, strangely, more than that which thinks them and speaks them and writes
“What is a man without a soul?” they ask. “What is the world without God?”
Nature answers these questions at all times. “Take a look,” she says every time we open our eyes, “does this answer your question?”
It never does for some reason. These "meaningful" things are not seen when we look. For if some evil were to take away these words and their
subsequent ideas, our vandals would become nihilistic, seeing nothing but cold, dumb and lifeless matter in that which they used to imagine harboured
souls and gods and consciousnesses. Or so I’ve been told.
What they mean to say is that I am a nihilist
, that since I no longer need such ideas, I see no value or meaning in anything. What a strange
conclusion. But the truth is, it is not I
who is the nihilist here. It is not I
who has to invent other things and other worlds to
value. It is not I
who seeks meaning in nothings, declaring the world cold, dumb and lifeless without them. What religions teaches in an
underhanded way is that there is no intrinsic meaning to the fabric of existence—nihilism. All is “suffering”, that we are nothing but sinners,
the world hates us, and more, we do not belong here. Matter, physicality, biology, sensuality, instincts, animals—concepts to be shunned, mainly
because they are concepts concerned with actual concrete things, “the world”, and what is apparent according to our senses and reason.
“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not
belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you”
Love and hate. Imagine a world capable of these all too human traits. Nothing is more wicked than saying that something entirely void of hate and
love, hates us to our very core. Of course, in this verse, there is only one hateful being at work here as he slanders that which cannot be bothered
to defend itself. John the Nihilist, the beloved disciple, the evangelist author whom, at least according to him, the world so hated, felt the need to
disparage the very reality in which he existed, in order that we too may devote ourselves to a father we’ve never met, to devote ourselves to
nothing. He or Jesus was having a bad enough day to utter something so unreasonable and dangerous. And then, with all the humour that comes with such
hypocrisy, we hear this:
If I had not done among them the works no one else did, they would not be guilty of sin. As it is, they have seen, and yet they have hated both me and
my Father. 25 But this is to fulfill what is written in their Law: ‘They hated me without reason.’[c]
“They hated me without reason.” If only the world could speak, she would murmur these words. What reasons do we have to condemn our bodies, the
world and life in general? We call ourselves prisons for souls, that we are something other than what we are, that we don’t belong here, that if
there is no supernatural being or substance purposefully dictating the events and happenings of our lives, the world is worthless, joyless, filled
with the petty wants, desires, and urges we so often cling to among the cold, dumb and dead matter of the world and reality. Nihilism—life is
meaningless. Spitting on that which cradles our existence, spitting on ourselves. Of course the world hates us, we are also of the world, and as such,
hate ourselves. But nothing could be so false.
When a nihilist implies that the world and existence is meaningless, he therefor renders his nihilism meaningless, whatever he says, does and creates,
You adulterous people! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes
himself an enemy of God.
And there it is—enemy with nothing for friendship with something. A meaningful trade.