One of my very best friends is an atheist. Another is a Hindu. I grew up as a very active and enthusiastic Catholic, but have not attended church regularly in several years -- ever since that priest pedophile problem the church was working through a few years back.Funny thing is, these two friends who talk to me about beliefs have taught me a TON about what is it to have faith.
One need not be Christian, that's for sure. Too many of the so-called Christians in my life don't live the principles, they just talk the talk, then throw barbs and zingers.
One thing I've learned by living separate from the church these last few years is that living my faith is really important to me. LIVING it, not just attending church, volunteering as a full-time campus minister for a year, leading the singing as a cantor, teaching others about it as part of the RCIA team. I did all that for years. But to learn to live the principles when I don't have the weekly reminders. That can present a challenge.
It's sharing with folks like my friends, the actions of heroes like Jimmy Carter, the everyday care the women in my quilt group give each other, being part of a group that embroiders quilts for sick kids, conversing with my husband and kids about prayer -- those are the actions that water and nurture the faith within me now. It's learning my faith by learning from each other. It's having faith in each other that we can find ways to live peacefully together, willing to give of our time, treasure and talent to make our corner of the world a better place.
That's where my faith lies today. For now, it works.
2 comments:
I feel like I've been all over the faith-map; raised fundamentalist Christian, I believed in God, Satan, heaven, hell . . . but always was clearly aware that my "still small voice" was indistinguishable from my own thoughts.
Over time, as my religion became more like Swiss cheese, my anxiety increased, up until the day when I had a crisis of faith, and realized that knowing wasn't nearly as important to me as finding out. I’ve oscillated back and forth quite a bit since then, between gently believing and gently not believing---never militant about my own beliefs, but willing to give zealotry a poke in the eye whenever I encountered it.
I describe myself as an empirical agnostic most of the time these days, and frankly, I act much more like a Christian now than I ever did when I was a Christian. But the truth is: I just don't know what all the answers are, so taking a firm stance one way or the other is impossible. It's also irrelevant to my actions---I realized during my crisis of faith that I could still be moral without adhering to any particular dogma.
Do I pray? I don't know. I certainly have inner dialogues, and I imagine that someone is privy to them on some level. For whatever reason, I've made it a point never to ask for things for myself---even when I had cancer, I never asked for recovery, for health, for whatever---but I do break down on occasion and ask things for others. But is my inner dialogue going anywhere? I don't know. There's no way to tell.
I guess if I had to sum up my religion, I'd say that I belong to the First Church of Being Honest With Yourself. And maybe that's enough.
Lovely response, Ken.
Thanks so much for sharing this with me.
You know, you and I both had our religion(s) stuffed into us as kids, and swallowed it, tried to live it, then came to view it in a new light as we got older.
I find it curious to watch those who did not have a religious basis, who find faith as adults, and then become the very zealots that turn both of us off. I really don't like being in their company.
My husband is a different animal. He came to Catholicism as an adult. But he came to it from both an intellectual point of view and a faith point of view. He is incredibly balanced — and sane — in the way he views and practices his beliefs.
I learn a lot from him.
~ M
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