When people ask me what I’m a priest of, it’s hard to answer. How do you explain a faith that doesn’t exist yet? Here’s my best attempt:
I don’t have a strong sense of faith. I seldom pray. What inspires me is heroism and sacrifice, which are how humanity endures. I believe every single person has the spark of heroism. It’s the ability to stand up when no one else will.
I want to know how that spark is kindled, and how we keep that flame burning bright.
That’s why I’m on this journey.
This is the very edge of my ability to explain my beliefs. The conversation seldom gets this far—most people either don’t talk about religion, or want to tell me their own views. And me? I listen with care. Mine is the journeyman, not the master; I have no sermon to deliver. I am here to learn.
But sometimes they truly want to know what I believe. And that helps me figure it out.
I’m writing my first novella. It has magic spells, happy corn, sad farmers, and desperate fucking. Lúnasa Days.