Frankly, I picked this one up based solely on its plot - which involved Vatican and selection of new Pope. I was hoping for behind-the-scene intrigues and twists as in The Conclave. The book contained neither. That, however, wasn't the source of my disappointment.
What disappointed me greatly was the fact that I couldn't understand what exactly did the author(s) want to convey. That a human being has the ability the commune with God without the help from any clergy or holy men/women? That humans would do well to listen to their inner voice when it comes to their calling in life? That those who work with the poor and downtrodden are the only ones who are doing God's true work? Or that He works in mysterious ways?
So it was with only a half-hearted enthusiasm that I could follow the life of one Brigid Fitzgerald as she worked with the poor of South Sudan on two separate occasions, helped nab a genocidal maniac, got married, lost her husband and baby, married a priest, again lost her husband and ended up starting a revolution of sorts when it came to the matters of the Catholic Church. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as the warm feeling in heart, the sensation of raindrops drying on skin and gentle breeze indicated that God was trying to say something to Brigid. 'Hey, you left out the white light' I felt like telling the author(s).
But above all, what riled me most was the thought expressed in the novel that God has brought us into this world but we all are responsible for our lives. He cannot intervene. Really? I don't have any problem in being responsible for my life but then I would have much preferred it if God had given me more control over it. And if He had sent me on Earth with a little booklet explaining the rules of the game. And if He had promised not to disrupt the best-laid plans with His neat little tricks. Oh, and BTW, if He expects us to manage our own lives, why do we need to pray to Him?
I guess God, if at all He exists, would do better than take a hands-off approach, if He wants His creation to make it into the next century. As of now, that looks pretty dicey to me.
What disappointed me greatly was the fact that I couldn't understand what exactly did the author(s) want to convey. That a human being has the ability the commune with God without the help from any clergy or holy men/women? That humans would do well to listen to their inner voice when it comes to their calling in life? That those who work with the poor and downtrodden are the only ones who are doing God's true work? Or that He works in mysterious ways?
So it was with only a half-hearted enthusiasm that I could follow the life of one Brigid Fitzgerald as she worked with the poor of South Sudan on two separate occasions, helped nab a genocidal maniac, got married, lost her husband and baby, married a priest, again lost her husband and ended up starting a revolution of sorts when it came to the matters of the Catholic Church. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as the warm feeling in heart, the sensation of raindrops drying on skin and gentle breeze indicated that God was trying to say something to Brigid. 'Hey, you left out the white light' I felt like telling the author(s).
But above all, what riled me most was the thought expressed in the novel that God has brought us into this world but we all are responsible for our lives. He cannot intervene. Really? I don't have any problem in being responsible for my life but then I would have much preferred it if God had given me more control over it. And if He had sent me on Earth with a little booklet explaining the rules of the game. And if He had promised not to disrupt the best-laid plans with His neat little tricks. Oh, and BTW, if He expects us to manage our own lives, why do we need to pray to Him?
I guess God, if at all He exists, would do better than take a hands-off approach, if He wants His creation to make it into the next century. As of now, that looks pretty dicey to me.
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