Winter Light

Coming from an Islamic background, I always feel guilty when struggling with faith. It always roots back to me feeling like I have failed God, but my crises always start with my realization that I have never even heard God. I’ve seen the passion people carry for Him, I’ve heard the convincing stories about Him, and I’ve read and studied His supposed wisdom, but I’ve never been confronted by Him. People in my life shower me with the most unhelpful advice such as “just believe in Him” or “practice His teachings and pray”. Actions this simple still feels too great a responsibility. Why is it solely up to me to uphold my religious belief? Why do I feel like I am alone in this navigation towards God’s light? Why is it always that when I want to believe in God, I turn towards a human made up of the same material as me, or that I lift my hands and pray, only hearing my words and seeing my skin from the hands I pray with. Why does it feel so alone; a burden, or an eternal anxiety I just can’t bear. I fear that it always comes from mere belief, but belief is variable from one human to the next, so why has God created such a variable human condition, where uncertainty reigns.  “God’s Silence”. A statement said frequently in this film and yet His silence is of the loudest of sounds. A echo of the rhythm of life. Beautiful birds singing, breezy capacities of winds whistling, trees swinging, rain pouring, and blue skies to green grass to red blood to brown mud. In my return to the appreciation of life, especially nature, I always subsequently and inevitably return to God and his comforting warmth. How he has created such beautiful elements, only left to be fathomed on by its strange beauty. Is this not the work of God, and if so, then God is beautiful if he possesses the power to create such beauty. But if he echoes such beauty, doesn’t he bear the same responsibility and blame to create such ugly. Wars, famine, depression, violence, and as this film also includes, China’s atomic bombs. I’ve seen my neighbour, through my balcony window, get shot on his front-yard as his mother, a schoolteacher, came out crying with his blood from his hands on hers. I’ve heard the news that my close friend’s baby brother died and through hearing such heartbreak, I couldn’t carry the weight and cried, unable to imagine what he must have felt; the baby died just weeks after his baby shower and I was there, welcomed to celebrate a life only for that same life to be taken away ruthlessly so early on. But what infuriates me the most is a bitch like cancer. It unreasonably took away so many people close to me in my personal life; my grandparents, tutor, friend, etc. Cancer is so comedically useless, unnecessary, yet equally destructive as it kills people and leaves the mourning people in a state of utter depression (why is this permitted if God exists!?). Isn’t this also the work of God? Then I contradict myself and loose belief in God. It’s my constant personal struggle between appreciating the beauty and being disturbed by the ugly that I fear will always fuel my unsure, incomplete relationship with God. How I can’t reach full belief or full repudiation and I know that most of us modern men go through this internal war at God. My hardships is like throwing away trash. It reappears. This trash, that is my hardships, gets transferred to a newer place. No matter how hard I think I have solved or erased my hardship, the cycle continues. Also, I have another critique that simply baffles me. How suicide is a sin. The act of one removing one’s own life in the face of a world that involuntarily plunged us here. I’m certain (hopefully) that I will never commit suicide in my life, but for the people who do, their case is simple. Their life has felt unreturned to light; the world, God, humanity. It’s a despondency that hints the one who took their life were betrayed at utmost extremity. If God and his reasons exist, I hope the people burning in hell because of their decision of committing suicide on Earth are screaming so loud in their fires that even God knows he’s wrong.  Going back to the film briefly rather than my personal life, Bergman explores human frailty in Winter’s Light. God is at the centre and root but his omnipresence is what kickstarts our failing pastor’s deteriorating life. A very powerful timeless struggle in this film is our actions being determined under the fabric of society’s demands. “If there is no God, would it really make any difference? Life would become understandable. What a relief.” This powerful quote in the film really encompasses the reason humans don’t undergo full individuality, unlocking a deeper consciousness. Not only are we fearful of God’s possibility, but are also, even more greatly, fearful of our fellow human’s confirmation. The confirmation of their presence and loathsomeness. I want to connect this with my personal life; I am currently battling a spiritual crisis, yet I instantly pray with my friends, family, and family-friends; the people I am surrounded with are mostly Muslims as well. Everyone in my immediate family, my relatives, and close freinds are devoted Muslims, and I pray and continue yet hesitantly believe solely because I don’t want to be ostracized from my circle at this point. Why is my fear of God being slowly transformed into a sole fear towards humans? It’s these questions that get me thinking that are humans gods or is their a personal, customizable God within us? I then started to create my own theories, worldviews, and ultimately life. I even wrote poems in attempt to express my feelings about God in universal language. I wrote these poems a long time ago, thinking I solidified my understanding and belief for God, but I soon realized I was just crying for hope and since God was silent, I had to create my own voice through poems. One of them were called “Design and Discovery”, and it’s nothing complex or enriching but I wrote it when I was 16 and I have it on paper that I’m going to write in text down below:  Through the existence of Science, I’ve seen the existence of God—felt and heardScience is not a coincidence with an unconscious, but rather an intricate, sought out designGod designed Science as humans discovered Science There’s a difference between design and discovery As there’s a difference between God and manOne built the shoe, while the other is allowed to wear and run in it Science is a perfection and is held above imperfect humans Yes, humans are smart, however we have no power to createMankind only possessed power to interpret what they’re given Flowers are perceived beautifully, whereas dirt is a disease These are not manmade elements, but something we made sense of Something we mutually agreed on based on powerless introduction, not deliberate creation So the design of Science is spouted from a source that exceed perfection, a oneness—GodScience is an art-given purpose because it is unable to be argued, to be reinvented, and to be re-altered For one, specific problem There is one, specific solutionThis is called perfection Science is a gift passed down to humans And seemingly sensical formulas are a gift back from us There is only one SolutionOne probability All, out of infinity—an incapability by Man But a regulation irreversibly designed by oneness From God  Hitherto, this was me simply substituting God’s silence with my voice, and I only realized it later. My love for playing basketball, my competitiveness for ping pong, my love for aviation, my passion for cinema, my urge to travel internationally as much as I can, and my choice to rather watch one film and a bit of a book a day, replacing time I would spend mindlessly on my phone. A personalized, revolting routine and canvas of my life that I decided to thoughtfully construct loudly in the face of a rather silent God. Are these my gods?  Stating God does not exist is just as absurd as stating God does exist. Our character is being consumed by worldly silence and I love how Bergman refrains from integrating exterior music. His silence is his initiation towards a revolt. His suffering should be his initiation towards a world that makes sense (kinda) to him and hopefully, to no one else. The cinematic audio and visuals also help the experience.  My path to God will always be undefined. Standing on its last hairs. I don’t know my conclusion and I’m angry. Confused. Not scared, but definitely repressed. Not only to God and certainly not to death but about what comes after.  The only thing in life that I know is that I do not know.