22/02/2025
When you compare the religion of our ancestors with foreign faiths—especially those that were created, funded, or introduced through particular beginnings—you'll notice striking differences. While I could discuss numerous aspects, I'll focus on one that resonates with me the most: the remarkable tolerance embodied by the original beliefs of our forefathers.
Long before foreign religions arrived, our ancestors had a profound understanding of the spiritual landscape. This knowledge wasn't about competition; it was about welcome. They embraced these new faiths with open arms, allowing them to build places of worship on their land and encouraging their children to engage with them openly.
The willingness to tolerate and accept foreign religions—even amidst belief clashes—raises important questions. Why did our ancestors allow these new practices to take root? Why didn’t they dispute foreign beliefs?
The answer lies in their deep comprehension of what religion truly represents. At its core, religion was never meant to be a bargaining chip for favor with Olodumare or a ticket to any afterlife. Instead, it serves as a framework for cultivating good character and moral behavior—attributes that transcend religious affiliation. One can be devoutly religious yet harbor a negative attitude, while others can lead virtuous lives outside of organized faith. Here, religion acts as a guide, capable of transforming a person's character but never defining it solely.
Our forefathers realized this vital truth. They didn’t see foreign religions as threats or rivals and, therefore, felt no need for unnecessary debates or condemnations.
The essence of their original religion was one of inclusivity. You were welcomed just as you were—no judgments, no prerequisites—just an emphasis on attitude.
Their beliefs were characterized by incredible traits: tolerance, forbearance, open-mindedness, and a patient, understanding nature. They believed that attending a church, mosque, or any religious gathering would not incite Olodumare’s anger or displease their Orishas. It was all about one’s approach and attitude.
I still remember a moment from my childhood that illustrated this beautifully. At about 12 years old, I witnessed a family member, a leader in a major church, leave a service one evening with his Bible in hand. Instead of returning home, he went to participate in sacrifices to Ogun, a revered Orisha. I was taken aback and questioned the beliefs of my family, unaware that we were the ones lacking understanding.
In the world of Yoruba traditional practices, the Orishas are not concerned with anyone's denominational affiliation. They address everyone equally, undisturbed by the diversity of one’s beliefs. Capable of compassion, they respond to all with generosity and support, completely indifferent to the religious labels we attach to ourselves.
Take Ifá, for example. Has it ever turned away someone because they practiced a foreign religion? Never! People even seek Ifá’s guidance to enhance their foreign religious communities, and it has always obliged without a whisper of objection.
Now, contrast that with many foreign religions. There, you're often told to abandon your beliefs and embrace theirs before your prayers can be answered—a clear message of exclusivity. You're made to feel that only their path leads to salvation, often accompanied by threats of eternal damnation for those who stray.
This perpetuates a cycle of fear and makes children of our ancestors vulnerable to manipulation, all in the name of “saving” them from an imagined fate. It makes one ponder: who is really promoting a path of understanding, and who is fostering division? The contrast couldn't be clearer.
