I've always figured religion existed to provide spiritual comfort and moral guidance. I don't believe there's only one right choice in this area. Nor do I believe someone has to follow a religion to have a moral compass. If you really need the threat of some sort of eternal damnation to convince you to do the right thing, you're not a religious person - you're a dick. Treat people with compassion because it's the right thing to do.
Excerpt from the beginning of Chapter Two: (warning, language - now where was that whitewashing app when you need it - j/k)
I tried to get some perspective on the short walk home, but my
mind just ran in circles. I didn’t want to face my roommates after all of this,
but there was nowhere else for me to go but home.
I was nearly there when one of the neighbors came out to put
his trash at the curb. Behind me, he called out, “Miss! Miss!”
Oh god, he meant me. I reluctantly stopped and turned
around.
“Miss, sorry, I don’t know your name. I’ve seen you around,
and I know you live in the big purple house on the corner. Do you need help?” He
looked vaguely familiar, tall and skinny with a shock of dark hair, but I would
swear I’d never seen him before.
“Miss, please. I’m sorry. I’m doing this all wrong. I’m not
trying to be creepy. This is going to sound crazy, but I’m a priest of Crom and
I’m kind of new at it, and I’m supposed to offer aid to those in need. No
offense, but you look like someone in need.”
Now I knew where I’d seen him before. It was at one of the Pagan
open full moon gatherings.
“I’m not trying to be rude. Bob, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Well, sort of. My given name is Bob, but my
priest name is Ingve.”
“Okay, Ingve. I’m Olivia. Here’s the thing. I’ve had a bad
night and a worse morning. Unless your Crom can fix stupid and bad judgment, I
don’t think you can help.”
“Not exactly... Crom teaches us about strength and honor,
but He knows everyone doesn’t start that way. He calls the trials we go through
in life the Forging of our Souls. Shit happens, and you survive and get
stronger. You’ve heard, ‘what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger’? It’s like
that.”
In spite of myself, I gave a bitter laugh. “Ingve,
if what Crom says is true, I’m going to be one badass motherfucker at this rate.
Or dead.” I headed off down the sidewalk, and then turned to look at him one
more time. “Bob. Ingve. Thanks for caring. It means a lot today.”
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