MICHAEL WALSH OP-ED: Far from being an atheist, I bend my knee to the spirit of Our Lord, and I am otherwise of spiritual nature.

Perhaps it is, for this reason, I am bemused to see the holy Cross atop churches and everywhere inside. For what and why are these places called churches?

It would seem to me that the representation of Christ’s crucifixion would be far more appropriate if placed over the doorways of medical centers and hospitals, hospices and truly charitable organizations.

Find God in a Garden

I recall the wording inscribed on a garden sundial. ‘You are nearer to God’s heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth.’

I don’t see God or his work in the sanctimonious mantras of the priesthood. Finding Jesus is a tad difficult when I am sharing a bench in an admittedly beautiful church or chapel that gives little else but strange, meaningless platitudes.

Where to find God’s true priests

I do see saintliness in healthcare workers who devote their lives to helping the sick. I have yet to see in my mind’s third eye a holy halo hovering like a hula hoop over the priest’s head.

Perhaps halos are limited in numbers. Is this the reason I see them over those who care for orphans, the distressed, the elderly and the infirm, the distressed and those shortly destined to shrug off their mortal coils?

Samaritans don’t wear priests’ raiment

I know of many Samaritans, but they are not necessarily attired in cassocks, church fine raiment.

I see shrines, but I cannot find solace in these places. I do find spiritual comfort in the charity of a robust person who, without the expectation of reward, helps an elderly lady or gent with whatever Cross they bear.

Sit with the divine spirit on a park bench

When I need to reflect on life, I find better opportunities on a park bench than a church bench. In my search for the great spirit, I find it not by gazing up at a church roof but by the great starlit dome of our galaxies.

At the end of the day, as I make my way home, I pass unseen the churches, and I make my communion with the holy spirit in my bed before sleep.

Perhaps it is not such a bad thing after all that many churches in the West have become places of residence, nightclubs and bars, even distribution centers for the community’s corner shops. At last, the churches are fit for purpose.

As the saying goes: ‘I didn’t leave the church. The church left me.’ Let readers know what you think

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