First Contact When I was in college in New Mexico, I first encountered the idea of a spider as a God. I was trying to learn something about the local culture and state history. There were several tribes in that state that had stories about Grandmother Spider, the Creator. I had thought this was originally an ancient Greek idea. That was not true. That is where the name Arachne comes from. She was not a God, she was a woman, a weaver who ‘challenged’ the Gods through the excellence of her work, and was turned into a spider. Second Contact It is difficult to express the intensity of the epiphany I experienced when I rediscovered the concept of a non-anthropomorphous God. I did some more spotty exploring of this concept via the internet, and a lot more time thinking, pondering, writing, and delving deeply into some of my own already long since formed and long since held religious ideas. Ideas were popping faster than microwave popcorn in a bag. What really “grabbed me” was the very impersonal nature of a spider-like God. What bothered me was that I knew I’d run across this concept before, and that my brain had just not “made the connection”. My life long religious conclusions, conditioned by layers of propaganda, literally "brain washing", during my childhood, had somehow ignored the effects on religious belief of an anthropomorphous mammalian God. We humans would just naturally attribute to God, His “naturally” human nurturing concerns: i.e., God had to be a kind, interested God with human concerns. That was God's job, to take care of us, to be concerned about us. Concerns like ‘care’ for His children on Earth. Despite the occasional rare disclaimers against this male, human, fatherly, fantasy God, the realities are the manifest uses of the terms Father, fatherly, and son. Plus there's all the images, pictures, statues, some say idols, that are put up in chapels, and study areas that depict God as human, and male, and usually older and bearded. The artists generally try for a touch of gray at the temples, and a distinguished grandfatherly demeanor. Third Contact Directly opposed to this “fatherly” kind of concern are the living habits which are daily observable in all spiders. We have lots of spiders around our house. Spiders don't love or hate. They lurk. They do not sorrow, nor are they amused. Spiders are not friendly. They wait patiently, conserving energy, alert. A web spider sees, or feels, an insect on the web as food and attacks. A spider retreats to safety if the captured insect is too large. Infant spiderlings have only a short time to leave their birth area before they become only another food source. Male spiders approaching females are at high risk of becoming food. More so in some species than others, but the Black Widow is notorious for eating her mate after copulation. Spiders are cold, almost clinical, heartless and mechanistic, inhumane and robotic. God is not a spider, and a spider is not God. God is not a spider, and a spider is not God. By way of comparison, a spider might very well be a cute, cuddly critter when compared to God. God does not have a heart, in either sense of the word. God is pure intellect. God is only concerned about investigating His Questions for His Reasons. We are here, we exist to serve God's Purposes, we will serve His Purposes, and we will be a part of God's Quest. We can only choose to be a part of the solution, or be road kill.
(c) Copyright 2006: George Wallace recently published a book on religion which lashes out at nearly all of the comfortable ideas about God, the trappings of organized religion, and the priesthood. His pithy comments and suggestions for a return to a God-centered personal religion will interest everyone. This article may be freely reprinted so long as all copyright attributions, and the full content of this resource box are included. www.OhGodIsThatYou.com
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