When I was young, I knew the Bible by heart. Me going to catholic school and mom being a dedicated Christian, there was no way I would’ve grown up not being exposed to religion. In school, I had to attend mass every other week and in class, I was taught all about the old testament, the ten commandments and the life of Jesus Christ. The way I see it now, though, I think the Bible is only worthy of study because of its literary as well as its historic qualities. No more, no less.
When I became a teenager, I accidentally ran across Anton LaVey’s Satanic Bible and was immediately intrigued to buy and read it. I was curious. Little did I know that as I went through the pages, I’d found myself being more and more drawn to it. Ignorant people think the Satanic Bible is filled with stories about violent rituals involving freaky orgies from hell, the murder of newborn babies and animals, and blood drinking rites. Although I don’t find the appeal in being a follower of the religion, a lot of things Satanists do make actual sense. For instance, sin is looked at as an inherent part of mankind and in this case isn’t considered immoral or shameful. Humans rarely follow their rational minds in tough and critical situations. They’re usually more inclined to trust their instincts and act on their urges, whether violent or sexual. There’s a satanic proverb that says “Do unto others what they do unto you” which means that when someone hits you, you have the right to hit them back. There’s no denying that even the best of people and the most religious have felt the urge to inflict pain on someone who inflicted pain on them. Standing up for ourselves and protecting our well-being is natural, and no one should deprive us from our right to defend ourselves or get back at someone who hurt us.
I attended my first mass in five years today. Frieda wanted to go because it was her mother’s eleventh death anniversary. As I sat there next to her, I tried to start a prayer but I couldn’t. All kinds of thoughts were going over in my head preventing me from focusing. I couldn’t keep them disengaged. And I suddenly couldn’t remember any of the basic prayers I was taught when I was young which made me feel bad. I thought of making conversation with God, but I didn’t know what to say to him. It’s been a while since I’ve confided in him or asked for his forgiveness for something I’ve done. I think at this point in my life, I can’t be forgiven for anything anyway, so why bother? On our way back home, I was already feeling down. I was so aware of the struggle I had to experience growing up in Freiburg and the feeling was so overwhelming I couldn’t wait to leave.