Despair was a heavy blackness that let no light in or out. It was a hell beyond expression. I thank God it always passed. A school of fish appeared around the net or a knot cried out to be reknotted. Or I thought of my family of how they were spared this terrible agony. The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving.

I’m reading a wonderful little novel called the Life of Pi. The way the book is marketed does not really do the story justice. While the story is certainly a survival story, it is much more about faith.

Pi is an incredibly spiritually sensitive boy growing up in the new India. His father is a zookeeper and he spends his days in prayer and caring for the animals. He interacts with Hindus, Muslims, and Christians. He learns from all of them about God and love, and the joy of spirituality. They all think he is crazy and scandalous for trying to practice all three faiths simultaneously.

In all these faiths he sees similar blessings and similar problems. One of the problems is anthropomorphism. “We look at an animal and see a mirror,” Pi muses, “The obsession with putting ourselves at the centre of everything is the bane not only of theologians but also of zoologists.” He speaks of how dangerous it is to see a Tiger or Bear as cute or human. Also, it is dangerous to see God as Indian, or American.

I won’t give any more of the story away, except to recommend and to say one last thing. Sometimes we find God in Church, and sometimes we find God in our hearts. Sometimes we find God in a 450lb. Bengal tiger somewhere in the middle of the Pacific.

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imagesource: deviantart

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