I believe that who we are is what we do...

I believe that who we are is what we do. I believe that if there is a larger power, it is the glorious sum of you and me, right here, at this moment, all of us in all our flawed glory.
I believe that when we die, it's lights out. I believe that immortality is no more and no less than what others remember of us after we are dead.

I believe in doing good, and trying to do better. I believe that the meaning is in the moment. I believe that we are responsible for our actions, and for the content of our character.
And just as I believe that some of us are given larger gifts than others, so I believe that the thimble is as full as the cup.

I believe that Benny Hinn is an impostor; I believe that prayer does not cure cancer. I believe that big religion causes war, hinders knowledge and enforces the hierarchy of gender. And I believe that, in most cases, the phrase "faith-based charity" is a bit like the term "socialism with a human face" — it's a nice idea, depending on who's doing the talking.

Yes, I understand that some people need or want the comforts of the church. I find the language of the Bible is a tonic when modern prose has lost its savour.
And I am inspired by church art and architecture — see this Friday's column, on the subject of St. Stephen's. But I am inclined to remain apart.

I saw a photo in the papers the other day, or perhaps it was one of those fleeting clips on television. A man somewhere in America was rebuilding his house. The camera caught him as he placed a Bible in the foundation.

At first, I thought it was a sweet gesture. A split second later, it occurred to me that if he were in another part of the world and he was placing some other holy book in the foundation of his house, I would have thought he was a zealot. And then I balanced my equation: American zealot.

When the big storm hit the Gulf states, the U.S. federal government failed to respond with swiftness or efficiency, but it did not fail to call for help from the public, knowing that help would come first from those in the best position to respond: the faith-based charities.
Who can argue with charity?

I can. Faith-based charities are fine on the surface. What's bad is that the political power of the religious right waxes fat during this disaster.
Any government of the people, by the people, and for the people has a responsibility, not just to protect everyone, but also to prevent anyone from taking advantage in a time of crisis. What advantage could there be?

If the church is asked to carry out the responsibilities of the state, then the state acquires an obligation. You can bet the church will not be shy when the time comes to collect, most likely in the form of some narrow legislation that places the religious above the secular.
In our own quiet way, we have gone in the other direction here. We have reinforced the separation of church and state.

Our premier has averted the establishment of sharia law; and, like a buttoned-down Solomon, he has taken the further necessary step of saying no to all faith-based arbitration.
Had he been a bolder man, blessed with a sense of the larger moment, he might have gone out and nailed a copy of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms to the front door of every church, mosque and synagogue in the province. He did not. I applaud him anyway.

What he did — or, since we are the state, what he did on our behalf — was an act of political courage. For, just as the state has no place in the bedrooms of the nation, so the churches of the nation are not the chambers of the state.
That is what I believe.
Joe Fiorito, The Toronto Star