1. Read the Bible daily.
2. Meditate, contemplate, journal, discern - often in nature.
3. Pray and praise God in song.
4. Worship with two different denominational churches for perspective.
5. Include Jesus in all aspects of life decisions, such as appearance, home stuff, parenting, homeschooling, entertainment, etc...
6. Give of my time and talent to others.
7. Tithe and share and give freely to worthy causes and individuals in need.
8. Get involved in civic duties.
9. Respect God's creation.
10. Talk openly about Jesus with others.
Sunday, September 22, 2019
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Two Dreams and Facing the Truth
I am trying to pay more attention to my dreams as I begin to discern where Jesus is leading me.
The first dream, I was in our church's chapel. There was a children's rosary going on, they called it the alphabet rosary, and there were pastel-colored tokens all over that supposedly were supposed to help the kids understand the mysteries. At the altar was the monstrance, and behind it was a young man (?) and several others next to him. The youth directly behind the monstrance was wearing a wide, red blindfold. I walked up to him and untied the blindfold.
Red is my favorite color, but also the color of the Holy Spirit and love. The fact that I untied it leads me to believe that I have been blind to Jesus's true presence permeating everything everywhere, and not being held hostage in the tabernacles of Catholic churches. Also, the sense of clutter all around in an attempt to "help" the kids pray the rosary also strikes me as the various additions and elaborations the Catholic church has laid on top of Scriptures, presumably in an effort to clarify and explain the Word of God to the faithful.
The second dream, there was some sort of retreat or even going on. Lots of movement. People gathering for pictures, eating at the table, etc. There were three different people in the dream who were moving around on their hands because their legs were missing. One was a white lady, there was an Asian young man who presumably was the white lady's son, and later a Black man, that I though was a comedian. The Black man was climbing a rope ladder.
Also, I peaked into a church to see a couple getting married. The lady was wearing a dirty white gown and what looked like a red apron or sash. They were exchanging vows into microphones. She was trying to hang up her microphone when she was done, but there wasn't anywhere for her mic to go. She then lifted her dress inappropriately high as she tried to step over the high threshold, exposing the crotch area of her pantyhose.
The three people walking around without legs seem to be telling me these are people operating with only half of what they need. The different races seem to suggest the universality of the Catholic church. Scriptures make up only half of the Catholic faith - the other half is Tradition. It seems that these people represent the Catholic walk in Christ. They do have the Scriptures, but it only makes up half of their faith, and as a result, their walk is wobbly and slow, and unnecessarily difficult to get around.
Then, the bride stepping over the threshold (with her legs) again highlights the importance of legs in this dream. I couldn't see the legs of the three people, and I didn't want to see the top of the legs (the crotch) of the bride. I didn't want to see her stepping away. She tried to speak into the mic but when that frustrated her, she stepped out. In the stepping out, she revealed something unseemly. Is she revealing something problematic about herself, or about the situation she's leaving? Is the act of leaving highlighting the problems I'm realizing about the Catholic church?
It's hard to tell at this point if I want to stay in the Catholic church or if I want to leave, and therefore I don't know if I'm reading into the dreams based on my presuppositions. Would it be easier if I could resolve whatever this crisis of faith is and remain in the Catholic church? Yes. A lot easier. For one, we wouldn't have to look for another faith community, which would include deciding on a denominational affiliation (nondenominational is still a denomination in my book). For another thing, we could continue as planned with my daughter's sacramental preparation (and my son's three years later). Also, I wouldn't have to weigh every religious practice I'm used to and determine whether or not it is unbiblical or rather worse, anti-biblical. Finally, I wouldn't have to worry about convincing my husband to join me on this journey.
But there is something compelling me not to take the easy road this time. There is something tugging on my heart that tells me there really is ultimate Truth, and that I want to find it. Up until now, Truth has been evasive and unknowable as far as I can tell. The idea of non-Christians not being saved really troubles my inner sense of justice. What of the countless people who died before Jesus was born? Before His message could reach them? What about those who have only been exposed to watered down or misguided interpretations of the Gospel, making it completely unappealing? Can God really blame a person for rejecting what they really never knew? Because even hearing "of" Jesus doesn't mean they were really presented with the Gospel as it ought to be presented. And what about those who really were evangelized properly, but their background presents a psychological obstacle to accepting the premises of Christianity? And how much of this worry is just my inner codependent?
I believe in a merciful God. I believe that even at the moment of death (immediately after?) a person can repent. But is this belief what God has revealed in His Word? Should I really worry so much about other people? Of course I want their good, that's the basic command of the Christian. But it has been an impediment to my own faith. If I admit that without accepting Jesus's free gift on the cross, I am lost and remain in my sin, what about those I love who also haven't accepted Jesus? And so I shy away from admitting that this is what the Bible calls me to.
What if I just worry about my side of the street? "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24:15)
The first dream, I was in our church's chapel. There was a children's rosary going on, they called it the alphabet rosary, and there were pastel-colored tokens all over that supposedly were supposed to help the kids understand the mysteries. At the altar was the monstrance, and behind it was a young man (?) and several others next to him. The youth directly behind the monstrance was wearing a wide, red blindfold. I walked up to him and untied the blindfold.
Red is my favorite color, but also the color of the Holy Spirit and love. The fact that I untied it leads me to believe that I have been blind to Jesus's true presence permeating everything everywhere, and not being held hostage in the tabernacles of Catholic churches. Also, the sense of clutter all around in an attempt to "help" the kids pray the rosary also strikes me as the various additions and elaborations the Catholic church has laid on top of Scriptures, presumably in an effort to clarify and explain the Word of God to the faithful.
The second dream, there was some sort of retreat or even going on. Lots of movement. People gathering for pictures, eating at the table, etc. There were three different people in the dream who were moving around on their hands because their legs were missing. One was a white lady, there was an Asian young man who presumably was the white lady's son, and later a Black man, that I though was a comedian. The Black man was climbing a rope ladder.
Also, I peaked into a church to see a couple getting married. The lady was wearing a dirty white gown and what looked like a red apron or sash. They were exchanging vows into microphones. She was trying to hang up her microphone when she was done, but there wasn't anywhere for her mic to go. She then lifted her dress inappropriately high as she tried to step over the high threshold, exposing the crotch area of her pantyhose.
The three people walking around without legs seem to be telling me these are people operating with only half of what they need. The different races seem to suggest the universality of the Catholic church. Scriptures make up only half of the Catholic faith - the other half is Tradition. It seems that these people represent the Catholic walk in Christ. They do have the Scriptures, but it only makes up half of their faith, and as a result, their walk is wobbly and slow, and unnecessarily difficult to get around.
Then, the bride stepping over the threshold (with her legs) again highlights the importance of legs in this dream. I couldn't see the legs of the three people, and I didn't want to see the top of the legs (the crotch) of the bride. I didn't want to see her stepping away. She tried to speak into the mic but when that frustrated her, she stepped out. In the stepping out, she revealed something unseemly. Is she revealing something problematic about herself, or about the situation she's leaving? Is the act of leaving highlighting the problems I'm realizing about the Catholic church?
It's hard to tell at this point if I want to stay in the Catholic church or if I want to leave, and therefore I don't know if I'm reading into the dreams based on my presuppositions. Would it be easier if I could resolve whatever this crisis of faith is and remain in the Catholic church? Yes. A lot easier. For one, we wouldn't have to look for another faith community, which would include deciding on a denominational affiliation (nondenominational is still a denomination in my book). For another thing, we could continue as planned with my daughter's sacramental preparation (and my son's three years later). Also, I wouldn't have to weigh every religious practice I'm used to and determine whether or not it is unbiblical or rather worse, anti-biblical. Finally, I wouldn't have to worry about convincing my husband to join me on this journey.
But there is something compelling me not to take the easy road this time. There is something tugging on my heart that tells me there really is ultimate Truth, and that I want to find it. Up until now, Truth has been evasive and unknowable as far as I can tell. The idea of non-Christians not being saved really troubles my inner sense of justice. What of the countless people who died before Jesus was born? Before His message could reach them? What about those who have only been exposed to watered down or misguided interpretations of the Gospel, making it completely unappealing? Can God really blame a person for rejecting what they really never knew? Because even hearing "of" Jesus doesn't mean they were really presented with the Gospel as it ought to be presented. And what about those who really were evangelized properly, but their background presents a psychological obstacle to accepting the premises of Christianity? And how much of this worry is just my inner codependent?
I believe in a merciful God. I believe that even at the moment of death (immediately after?) a person can repent. But is this belief what God has revealed in His Word? Should I really worry so much about other people? Of course I want their good, that's the basic command of the Christian. But it has been an impediment to my own faith. If I admit that without accepting Jesus's free gift on the cross, I am lost and remain in my sin, what about those I love who also haven't accepted Jesus? And so I shy away from admitting that this is what the Bible calls me to.
What if I just worry about my side of the street? "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24:15)
Christian in the Catholic church
For various reasons, I am taking it slowly as far as acting on my recent convictions about following Jesus and where He may be calling me. What strikes me is that this is much different than the two previous times I have left the Catholic church.
The first time I left the version of Catholicism that I grew up with, the cultural Catholic church, if you will. I spent time in Paganism, Quakerism, Anglicanism (which I thought was an Episopalian church), and visited or pondered Unitarian Universalism and Islam. I was looking for a good fit, not the truth.
The second time I left, it was not on purpose. Postpartum anxiety and depression contributed to my faith leaving me. I wasn't nourishing it, and so it atrophied. When I tried to regain it, I considered Reform Judaism and spent time "being" a Deist. I started to try to reason my way back to faith.
This time, while I hesitate to jump to conclusions and announce that I am leaving the Catholic church for the third time, I don't really feel like I'm lost this time. Rather, I feel like I'm trying to follow Jesus more closely. This time, I'm trying to discern the truth and follow wherever it may lead. At first glance, it is looking like it will be outside the Catholic church. However, I want to first see if I can actually be both, Christian and Catholic.
Don't get me wrong. I believe there are lots of Catholics who are Christians at heart and have a relationship with Jesus and seek to do God's will. But what makes it difficult to maintain that spiritual connection in the Catholic church is that fellowship generally includes Catholics who are not really Christians at their core. There's cafeteria Catholics, much as I once was. Or cultural Catholics, ditto. There are those who like the pomp and circumstance of the religious trappings of Catholicism but don't actually buy the Gospel at all (my mom?) There are the Catholics who would likely be a much better fit in a mainline Protestant denomination based on their faith, but they stay Catholic because it's what they're used to. I guess these would also be Christian Catholics, like those who truly believe all that the Catholic church teaches, without compromising what Jesus taught.
Although... that is where I'm at now - is it actually possible to follow everything the Catholic church teaches AND everything Jesus taught? And even if it is, I feel like it would be a lot of unnecessary work to do so. Work that takes time and effort away from truly plunging into the Scriptures and God's will.
I want to be cautious about basing my decisions on emotion, but then again, without emotion, there isn't much left of a relationship, is there? Yes, love is a commitment. Applied to marriage, it's not good enough to say you fell out of love and divorce your spouse. But to have a vibrant marriage - any relationship - there must be an element of emotion. Otherwise, you're left with obligation, blind obedience, going through the motions, and a dry ... faith, if you even want to call it that.
I didn't receive communion today. I was at a Polish cathedral and went up with my dad so he could receive. Everyone still kneels on kneelers at the altar and waits their turn to receive. In the past, I would've jumped at the chance to "receive the Lord in the proper posture of reverence". But today, at the last minute, I walked up and then walked away. I believe that when Jesus talked about the need to "eat His body and drink His blood", He was referring to the Gospel and speaking metaphorically. I think there's potential in communion bringing out that truth, but when it has crossed over into literal interpretation, it really does straddle idolatry, even if unintentionally.
I wondered these last few years if I'd ever have a devotion to Mary again. I haven't felt particularly drawn to her since leaving Paganism and feminism, and I feared falling back into those world views if I gave Mary the level of devotion that is encouraged in Catholicism. Yesterday, I thought of this comparison; I think the Catholic church has done to Mary what the secular West has done to Saint Nicholas. Both were historical figures, good and kind and noble figures that ought to inspire faith and love of God. Both have been caricatured into legendary figures that are so far removed from their actual origins that they no longer emit what the actual persons stood for.
There have been layers upon layers of importance placed on Mary, all the while claiming that each additional layer somehow makes Jesus more prominent. Mary points us to Jesus, the Catholic church says. Ok, but if I already know where to find Jesus, why stop to ask for directions?
The plan of action right now is as follows. I will continue to worship at our regular Catholic church with my family for the duration of the school year (until June of next year). For one, our kids are getting ready to start a Sunday school program based on the Montessori method, and the educator in me really wants them to experience Montessori without having to invest in the materials or private school. I also have made a commitment to lead the tiny group step study affiliated with our parish's Celebrate Recovery ministry. Also, I just asked my good spiritual friend if she'd consider mentoring me, and she has taken that to prayer, so I want to wait and see what the Holy Spirit does there. There also may be an introduction of the Green Faith certification at our parish that I have been hoping and pushing for, so if it does come to our parish, I'll want to be involved in that in whatever capacity I am needed. Finally, in the interest of taking it slowly and actually discerning and following God's promptings, I've signed up for year-long weekly meetings designed to walk me through the Ignatian exercises, something I kept starting with my spiritual director and not finishing.
In the meantime, there are a couple of Catholic teachings that are currently giving me pause that I think it's best to put a hold on. One is the reception of communion. Another is any prayers that glorify Mary at the expense of Jesus. I also would like to explore the possibility of other churches and I hope my husband will humor and join me. Once a month, our kids don't have Sunday school, so perhaps we can worship at non-Catholic churches on those Sundays. Finally, I intend to spend a lot of time reading both Catholic and non-Catholic Christian sources, as well as of course meditating on God's presence in expectation of His promptings.
The reason I feel it is important for me to take this current crisis of faith, if you want to call it such, seriously is that I can't point to anything overtly anti-Catholic nor fervently Protestant that would've sparked this desire. It's almost as if the time has come for me to take my faith to the next level.
Lord Jesus, I pray that You lead my thoughts, words, and actions over the coming months, put people in my life who will straighten out what is crooked, clarify what is muddled, and bring me that much closer to You. Amen.
The first time I left the version of Catholicism that I grew up with, the cultural Catholic church, if you will. I spent time in Paganism, Quakerism, Anglicanism (which I thought was an Episopalian church), and visited or pondered Unitarian Universalism and Islam. I was looking for a good fit, not the truth.
The second time I left, it was not on purpose. Postpartum anxiety and depression contributed to my faith leaving me. I wasn't nourishing it, and so it atrophied. When I tried to regain it, I considered Reform Judaism and spent time "being" a Deist. I started to try to reason my way back to faith.
This time, while I hesitate to jump to conclusions and announce that I am leaving the Catholic church for the third time, I don't really feel like I'm lost this time. Rather, I feel like I'm trying to follow Jesus more closely. This time, I'm trying to discern the truth and follow wherever it may lead. At first glance, it is looking like it will be outside the Catholic church. However, I want to first see if I can actually be both, Christian and Catholic.
Don't get me wrong. I believe there are lots of Catholics who are Christians at heart and have a relationship with Jesus and seek to do God's will. But what makes it difficult to maintain that spiritual connection in the Catholic church is that fellowship generally includes Catholics who are not really Christians at their core. There's cafeteria Catholics, much as I once was. Or cultural Catholics, ditto. There are those who like the pomp and circumstance of the religious trappings of Catholicism but don't actually buy the Gospel at all (my mom?) There are the Catholics who would likely be a much better fit in a mainline Protestant denomination based on their faith, but they stay Catholic because it's what they're used to. I guess these would also be Christian Catholics, like those who truly believe all that the Catholic church teaches, without compromising what Jesus taught.
Although... that is where I'm at now - is it actually possible to follow everything the Catholic church teaches AND everything Jesus taught? And even if it is, I feel like it would be a lot of unnecessary work to do so. Work that takes time and effort away from truly plunging into the Scriptures and God's will.
I want to be cautious about basing my decisions on emotion, but then again, without emotion, there isn't much left of a relationship, is there? Yes, love is a commitment. Applied to marriage, it's not good enough to say you fell out of love and divorce your spouse. But to have a vibrant marriage - any relationship - there must be an element of emotion. Otherwise, you're left with obligation, blind obedience, going through the motions, and a dry ... faith, if you even want to call it that.
I didn't receive communion today. I was at a Polish cathedral and went up with my dad so he could receive. Everyone still kneels on kneelers at the altar and waits their turn to receive. In the past, I would've jumped at the chance to "receive the Lord in the proper posture of reverence". But today, at the last minute, I walked up and then walked away. I believe that when Jesus talked about the need to "eat His body and drink His blood", He was referring to the Gospel and speaking metaphorically. I think there's potential in communion bringing out that truth, but when it has crossed over into literal interpretation, it really does straddle idolatry, even if unintentionally.
I wondered these last few years if I'd ever have a devotion to Mary again. I haven't felt particularly drawn to her since leaving Paganism and feminism, and I feared falling back into those world views if I gave Mary the level of devotion that is encouraged in Catholicism. Yesterday, I thought of this comparison; I think the Catholic church has done to Mary what the secular West has done to Saint Nicholas. Both were historical figures, good and kind and noble figures that ought to inspire faith and love of God. Both have been caricatured into legendary figures that are so far removed from their actual origins that they no longer emit what the actual persons stood for.
There have been layers upon layers of importance placed on Mary, all the while claiming that each additional layer somehow makes Jesus more prominent. Mary points us to Jesus, the Catholic church says. Ok, but if I already know where to find Jesus, why stop to ask for directions?
The plan of action right now is as follows. I will continue to worship at our regular Catholic church with my family for the duration of the school year (until June of next year). For one, our kids are getting ready to start a Sunday school program based on the Montessori method, and the educator in me really wants them to experience Montessori without having to invest in the materials or private school. I also have made a commitment to lead the tiny group step study affiliated with our parish's Celebrate Recovery ministry. Also, I just asked my good spiritual friend if she'd consider mentoring me, and she has taken that to prayer, so I want to wait and see what the Holy Spirit does there. There also may be an introduction of the Green Faith certification at our parish that I have been hoping and pushing for, so if it does come to our parish, I'll want to be involved in that in whatever capacity I am needed. Finally, in the interest of taking it slowly and actually discerning and following God's promptings, I've signed up for year-long weekly meetings designed to walk me through the Ignatian exercises, something I kept starting with my spiritual director and not finishing.
In the meantime, there are a couple of Catholic teachings that are currently giving me pause that I think it's best to put a hold on. One is the reception of communion. Another is any prayers that glorify Mary at the expense of Jesus. I also would like to explore the possibility of other churches and I hope my husband will humor and join me. Once a month, our kids don't have Sunday school, so perhaps we can worship at non-Catholic churches on those Sundays. Finally, I intend to spend a lot of time reading both Catholic and non-Catholic Christian sources, as well as of course meditating on God's presence in expectation of His promptings.
The reason I feel it is important for me to take this current crisis of faith, if you want to call it such, seriously is that I can't point to anything overtly anti-Catholic nor fervently Protestant that would've sparked this desire. It's almost as if the time has come for me to take my faith to the next level.
Lord Jesus, I pray that You lead my thoughts, words, and actions over the coming months, put people in my life who will straighten out what is crooked, clarify what is muddled, and bring me that much closer to You. Amen.
Thursday, September 12, 2019
Christian Catholic?
I have a history of being a spiritual seeker. I recently gave a talk at a women's retreat illustrating how God has worked in my life and brought me back to Himself ... twice! But already going into the retreat, I started to feel a weird sense of vague uncertainty. At the end of the retreat, and I even noted this on my feedback sheet, I felt like I was left unfulfilled. I am grateful for my current Catholic parish community for surrounding me with love and helping me come out of my postpartum depression and anxiety and back into an active belief in God's presence. I am grateful for our pastor, Fr. Eric, who recently was moved to another parish, for his example of holiness and clear leadership by example. I am grateful for the Celebrate Recovery ministry that had an active part in helping me, together with other pursuits the Lord prepared for me, to come out of my shell and claim my identity as a daughter of the King! I am grateful for the annual women's retreats that have given me that much needed time of being surrounded by constant reminders of His love and mercy.
So what's the problem? While I know it's a message that the good news has to start with, namely that we are loved by God, I am ready to move past that. Now what? I have wanted to get involved in the next stage of my faith journey for a time. This year, I started leading a small group extension of the CR ministry, but with one co-leader and currently only 2 other attendees (after over 3 months of advertising and meeting), and a cancelled Bible study I was supposed to lead, I'm thinking there's something else for me. Our parish is good about one consistent outreach ministry, feeding the homeless in our nearby city. But it isn't for everyone's talents, schedules, or current states in life.
Last year, I wanted to find out why we weren't recycling as a parish. My concerns were met with essential shrugged shoulders and a reference to the budget. Now that we have a new pastor, whose presence at Mass and elsewhere leaves something to be desired, I do hold out one bit of hope. Through my connections on staff, he will be approached in a few weeks with the idea of pursuing the Green Faith certification, which my last parish participated in. If this receives the green light, there will be something of value for me to work on at the parish that I feel will have wider implications than just our campus.
Also, I've approached a kindred spirit spiritual friend from our parish requesting mentorship. She is discerning if this is something the Holy Spirit wants her to agree to. If she does, I will also have something to cling to that will help me feel like I'm actually following Jesus, not just praising and worshiping Him and basking in His goodness to me, while ignoring the many tragedies that need attention from those who ought to be His hands and feet, as St. Therese would say.
I have been avoiding meeting again with my spiritual director lately, on one hand because her husband had a serious accident that brought back painful memories of my own dad's similar traumatic brain injury, and thus I didn't want to impose my time on her. But also, having found out on social media that our political leanings are opposed to each other, I've had to wonder if I can truly receive the kind of spiritual advice I'm looking for. After all, the truth is that following Jesus, actually following Him, IS a political action. We focus on different aspects of the gospel, however.
As these vague thoughts circled in my mind, I was at first quite confident that it was a matter of ironing out some details because, after all, I've left and returned twice. I don't expect anyone to take me seriously, myself included, if I just willy-nilly announce my subsequent departure. But thanks to the boundaries work I've been doing and realizing I need to be direct and honest with myself about my true feelings - about everything - I started to tell others and myself that the only reason I remain a faithful Catholic is the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.
I no longer have a devotion to Mary. We pray the Rosary as a family, but I don't have any sort of warm and fuzzy feelings about it. I just use it as a tool to remember the key aspects of the Gospel. The other major "Catholic thing" that differentiates my denomination from others is the Pope. And frankly, after the most recent clergy sex abuse scandal and seeing how Pope Francis - of whom I was a fan up until this point - handled the situation, I realized I was fooling myself thinking that there was something inherently holy in obeying spiritual authority blindly. I started to realize that those who would chastise me for "going against" church teaching were in effect equating the word of the Pope(s) with the Word of God. Jesus is supposed to be the singular mediator between us and Our Creator. Jesus is supposed to be the way, the truth, and the life. Jesus is supposed to be our Good Shephard. Not Jesus and the Pope.
Interestingly, once I admitted to myself that I simply do not recognize the popes' teachings as authoritative interpretations of Jesus's teachings, doubt begin to creep in regarding Jesus's Real Presence in the Eucharist. I asked myself, be for real, why do you love the Eucharist? And here was what I came up with.
As an introvert, I love the silence available at the Adoration Chapel, especially since no one seems to respect the sanctuary before or after Mass as a time of prayer. Instead, fellowship is encouraged and praised. But feeling good over being quiet enough with my thoughts to feel the presence of God is not proof of Jesus's Real Presence in the Eucharist. In fact, on at least one occasion, I recall hesitating about whether I wanted to spend my spiritual reflection time in the Adoration Chapel, or just outside the church, on a bench in a little garden. I recalled one of the best parts of retreats was the silence and being alone regardless of location. I tested this theory the other night when I went out on our deck under the full moon and spent close to an hour pacing in the dark, praying my heart out to God. I felt His presence. I gained insights. I started to grasp the Quaker concept of the "Christ within". I carry God's presence everywhere I go. Just like I said at the end of my retreat talk, "as soon as I stop talking, stop thinking, stop planning, stop organizing, and just be.... there He is."
Yes, it's nice to have a designated place to "visit Jesus", but am I seriously going to base my actions on what feels good? That's sort of the opposite of what Jesus taught. Same with receiving Communion. I genuflect before receiving. I teach my kids to pay close attention at the Transubstantiation. We say hello and goodbye to Jesus as we enter and leave the church. All to help them have a sense of the Real Presence of Jesus. My daughter just started her two year preparation to receive her First Holy Communion. This is a big deal, a coming of age into "big kidhood". And suddenly, I'm stopped in my tracks wondering if I'm actually teaching and practicing idolatry.
The truth is this. Either the Real Presence if true, in which case it's not idolatry and I should continue as before, seeking out social justice outlets to live out my faith. Or it's not true, and I don't really have a valid, biblical reason to keep building up the falsehood.
Moment of truth. When I think of being Catholic, I think of all the things the Catholic church teaches about Jesus (and Mary, and the saints, and etc.). I think of all the things the Catholic church teaches about what's the right thing to do, what's considered virtue and what's a vice. I see the Catholic church as the filter through which the Gospel gets passed down to me. And I'm seeing that there's a problem with this. Maybe this was appropriate during the Middle Ages, before most people were literate and before the printing press. In fact, I'd say the Catholic church really capitalized on the masses' ignorance and tied them to itself. While Jesus may have hoped to have His apostles and disciples pass on the Good News to those who would come after them (after all, most people in Jesus's time were likewise illiterate), what happens when these people, tasked with such a monumentally crucial role as passing on the facts of salvation through faith in Christ, twist the message to their own advantage? After all, the masses wouldn't be any wiser for it.
The easier thing would be to just stay Catholic, keep trying to find ways to follow Jesus from the base camp that is my current faith community. It's what I know, it's what I'm comfortable with. But there's also an element of the classic Catholic guilt - what if I'm wrong? I better stay put just in case the Catholic church is right. But wait a minute... what if it's the Catholic church that is wrong?
And so, I embark on a different spiritual journey, no longer to find a "good match" to what I want out of a spirituality, but rather, in search of ... truth. The true Jesus. The true Gospel. The true Way of Jesus that His early followers embraced.
The repercussions are not lost on me. This is a journey that I must take my husband and children on, if I truly want to say, in the words of Joshua 24:15, "As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."
I must answer for myself, and then - if applicable - convince my husband, of one thing: Is it possible and wise to live out the Christian commission, the Christian lifestyle, from within the Catholic church? Most importantly, though, it isn't what I think or decide, but rather what I am led to. Is the Holy Spirit leading me to take a leap of faith and to look to the great unknown in order to follow my Savior to where He would have me? Am I willing to risk starting over at another faith community, possible over and over until I find the right one? Am I willing to cling entirely to Jesus and my personal discernment of His will for my life, trusting that He gave me my conscience not so that it would be "formed" (brainwashed?) by the filter of the Catholic church (or any other church for that matter), but so that I could commune directly with God?
It's funny. On one hand, I feel like the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, if it is true, is the most obvious way to be close to God, closer than anyone else can claim. On the other hand, if I really think about it, it's not at all the clearest path to Him. It relies entirely on the presence of the Catholic church. It depends on my access to the Catholic church. Reserving the tabernacle at the nearest Catholic church as THE place I can meet God is ignoring Him the rest of the time when I am not at church. It's putting on hold any big questions or requests until I can "be with Him" in Adoration. Yes, there is something psychologically true about the fact that when something is too common, it loses it's specialness. But there is also something to be said about what Albert Einstein once said: "You either believe that everything is a miracle, or that nothing is."
You know when I'm most in awe of God? When I ponder outer space. When I am outdoors and take in the vastness of nature. You know when I feel closest to Him, other than when outside? When I'm moved by beautiful music, or inspiring poetry, or breath-taking artwork. In other words, when I see/hear/feel God's creativity in action among His people.
I already know that I will never find a church that is a "perfect fit" for me. There are aspects of Catholic teaching and tradition that are not unbiblical and that resonate with me very much, but that are lacking in many other denominations. I am on uncharted territory here. I cannot merely "jump ship" and cling to someone else's interpretation and implementation of the Gospel. I need to depend entirely on the grace of God to move me.
I have often wondered what exactly was the good news of Jesus. I didn't get it. Clearly, something went wrong with all the Christians that have "taught" me in the past, since this should be abundantly clear. This is what I have finally come up with.
The Gospel of Jesus Christ
1. I am loved unconditionally by God, in Whose image I was made.
2. I am forgiven for my faults and shortcomings.
3. I am gifted with talents and opportunities unique to me.
4. I am called to some great mission for God.
5. The correct response to the above is gratitude and awe expressed in worship (both private and corporal).
6. I am expected to serve others as Jesus did.
7. I am expected to fellowship with other believers.
8. I am expected to study the Word of God.
9. I am expected to discern my calling through prayer and meditation.
10. I am expected to help others do likewise (aka. evangelize).
I don't know much, but I know this; if a person, resource, group, or church leaves me more confused than convicted about the message of Jesus, it cannot be the place for me.
Lord, please bless my efforts and forgive my inaccurate doubts. Amen.
So what's the problem? While I know it's a message that the good news has to start with, namely that we are loved by God, I am ready to move past that. Now what? I have wanted to get involved in the next stage of my faith journey for a time. This year, I started leading a small group extension of the CR ministry, but with one co-leader and currently only 2 other attendees (after over 3 months of advertising and meeting), and a cancelled Bible study I was supposed to lead, I'm thinking there's something else for me. Our parish is good about one consistent outreach ministry, feeding the homeless in our nearby city. But it isn't for everyone's talents, schedules, or current states in life.
Last year, I wanted to find out why we weren't recycling as a parish. My concerns were met with essential shrugged shoulders and a reference to the budget. Now that we have a new pastor, whose presence at Mass and elsewhere leaves something to be desired, I do hold out one bit of hope. Through my connections on staff, he will be approached in a few weeks with the idea of pursuing the Green Faith certification, which my last parish participated in. If this receives the green light, there will be something of value for me to work on at the parish that I feel will have wider implications than just our campus.
Also, I've approached a kindred spirit spiritual friend from our parish requesting mentorship. She is discerning if this is something the Holy Spirit wants her to agree to. If she does, I will also have something to cling to that will help me feel like I'm actually following Jesus, not just praising and worshiping Him and basking in His goodness to me, while ignoring the many tragedies that need attention from those who ought to be His hands and feet, as St. Therese would say.
I have been avoiding meeting again with my spiritual director lately, on one hand because her husband had a serious accident that brought back painful memories of my own dad's similar traumatic brain injury, and thus I didn't want to impose my time on her. But also, having found out on social media that our political leanings are opposed to each other, I've had to wonder if I can truly receive the kind of spiritual advice I'm looking for. After all, the truth is that following Jesus, actually following Him, IS a political action. We focus on different aspects of the gospel, however.
As these vague thoughts circled in my mind, I was at first quite confident that it was a matter of ironing out some details because, after all, I've left and returned twice. I don't expect anyone to take me seriously, myself included, if I just willy-nilly announce my subsequent departure. But thanks to the boundaries work I've been doing and realizing I need to be direct and honest with myself about my true feelings - about everything - I started to tell others and myself that the only reason I remain a faithful Catholic is the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.
I no longer have a devotion to Mary. We pray the Rosary as a family, but I don't have any sort of warm and fuzzy feelings about it. I just use it as a tool to remember the key aspects of the Gospel. The other major "Catholic thing" that differentiates my denomination from others is the Pope. And frankly, after the most recent clergy sex abuse scandal and seeing how Pope Francis - of whom I was a fan up until this point - handled the situation, I realized I was fooling myself thinking that there was something inherently holy in obeying spiritual authority blindly. I started to realize that those who would chastise me for "going against" church teaching were in effect equating the word of the Pope(s) with the Word of God. Jesus is supposed to be the singular mediator between us and Our Creator. Jesus is supposed to be the way, the truth, and the life. Jesus is supposed to be our Good Shephard. Not Jesus and the Pope.
Interestingly, once I admitted to myself that I simply do not recognize the popes' teachings as authoritative interpretations of Jesus's teachings, doubt begin to creep in regarding Jesus's Real Presence in the Eucharist. I asked myself, be for real, why do you love the Eucharist? And here was what I came up with.
As an introvert, I love the silence available at the Adoration Chapel, especially since no one seems to respect the sanctuary before or after Mass as a time of prayer. Instead, fellowship is encouraged and praised. But feeling good over being quiet enough with my thoughts to feel the presence of God is not proof of Jesus's Real Presence in the Eucharist. In fact, on at least one occasion, I recall hesitating about whether I wanted to spend my spiritual reflection time in the Adoration Chapel, or just outside the church, on a bench in a little garden. I recalled one of the best parts of retreats was the silence and being alone regardless of location. I tested this theory the other night when I went out on our deck under the full moon and spent close to an hour pacing in the dark, praying my heart out to God. I felt His presence. I gained insights. I started to grasp the Quaker concept of the "Christ within". I carry God's presence everywhere I go. Just like I said at the end of my retreat talk, "as soon as I stop talking, stop thinking, stop planning, stop organizing, and just be.... there He is."
Yes, it's nice to have a designated place to "visit Jesus", but am I seriously going to base my actions on what feels good? That's sort of the opposite of what Jesus taught. Same with receiving Communion. I genuflect before receiving. I teach my kids to pay close attention at the Transubstantiation. We say hello and goodbye to Jesus as we enter and leave the church. All to help them have a sense of the Real Presence of Jesus. My daughter just started her two year preparation to receive her First Holy Communion. This is a big deal, a coming of age into "big kidhood". And suddenly, I'm stopped in my tracks wondering if I'm actually teaching and practicing idolatry.
The truth is this. Either the Real Presence if true, in which case it's not idolatry and I should continue as before, seeking out social justice outlets to live out my faith. Or it's not true, and I don't really have a valid, biblical reason to keep building up the falsehood.
Moment of truth. When I think of being Catholic, I think of all the things the Catholic church teaches about Jesus (and Mary, and the saints, and etc.). I think of all the things the Catholic church teaches about what's the right thing to do, what's considered virtue and what's a vice. I see the Catholic church as the filter through which the Gospel gets passed down to me. And I'm seeing that there's a problem with this. Maybe this was appropriate during the Middle Ages, before most people were literate and before the printing press. In fact, I'd say the Catholic church really capitalized on the masses' ignorance and tied them to itself. While Jesus may have hoped to have His apostles and disciples pass on the Good News to those who would come after them (after all, most people in Jesus's time were likewise illiterate), what happens when these people, tasked with such a monumentally crucial role as passing on the facts of salvation through faith in Christ, twist the message to their own advantage? After all, the masses wouldn't be any wiser for it.
The easier thing would be to just stay Catholic, keep trying to find ways to follow Jesus from the base camp that is my current faith community. It's what I know, it's what I'm comfortable with. But there's also an element of the classic Catholic guilt - what if I'm wrong? I better stay put just in case the Catholic church is right. But wait a minute... what if it's the Catholic church that is wrong?
And so, I embark on a different spiritual journey, no longer to find a "good match" to what I want out of a spirituality, but rather, in search of ... truth. The true Jesus. The true Gospel. The true Way of Jesus that His early followers embraced.
The repercussions are not lost on me. This is a journey that I must take my husband and children on, if I truly want to say, in the words of Joshua 24:15, "As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."
I must answer for myself, and then - if applicable - convince my husband, of one thing: Is it possible and wise to live out the Christian commission, the Christian lifestyle, from within the Catholic church? Most importantly, though, it isn't what I think or decide, but rather what I am led to. Is the Holy Spirit leading me to take a leap of faith and to look to the great unknown in order to follow my Savior to where He would have me? Am I willing to risk starting over at another faith community, possible over and over until I find the right one? Am I willing to cling entirely to Jesus and my personal discernment of His will for my life, trusting that He gave me my conscience not so that it would be "formed" (brainwashed?) by the filter of the Catholic church (or any other church for that matter), but so that I could commune directly with God?
It's funny. On one hand, I feel like the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, if it is true, is the most obvious way to be close to God, closer than anyone else can claim. On the other hand, if I really think about it, it's not at all the clearest path to Him. It relies entirely on the presence of the Catholic church. It depends on my access to the Catholic church. Reserving the tabernacle at the nearest Catholic church as THE place I can meet God is ignoring Him the rest of the time when I am not at church. It's putting on hold any big questions or requests until I can "be with Him" in Adoration. Yes, there is something psychologically true about the fact that when something is too common, it loses it's specialness. But there is also something to be said about what Albert Einstein once said: "You either believe that everything is a miracle, or that nothing is."
You know when I'm most in awe of God? When I ponder outer space. When I am outdoors and take in the vastness of nature. You know when I feel closest to Him, other than when outside? When I'm moved by beautiful music, or inspiring poetry, or breath-taking artwork. In other words, when I see/hear/feel God's creativity in action among His people.
I already know that I will never find a church that is a "perfect fit" for me. There are aspects of Catholic teaching and tradition that are not unbiblical and that resonate with me very much, but that are lacking in many other denominations. I am on uncharted territory here. I cannot merely "jump ship" and cling to someone else's interpretation and implementation of the Gospel. I need to depend entirely on the grace of God to move me.
I have often wondered what exactly was the good news of Jesus. I didn't get it. Clearly, something went wrong with all the Christians that have "taught" me in the past, since this should be abundantly clear. This is what I have finally come up with.
The Gospel of Jesus Christ
1. I am loved unconditionally by God, in Whose image I was made.
2. I am forgiven for my faults and shortcomings.
3. I am gifted with talents and opportunities unique to me.
4. I am called to some great mission for God.
5. The correct response to the above is gratitude and awe expressed in worship (both private and corporal).
6. I am expected to serve others as Jesus did.
7. I am expected to fellowship with other believers.
8. I am expected to study the Word of God.
9. I am expected to discern my calling through prayer and meditation.
10. I am expected to help others do likewise (aka. evangelize).
I don't know much, but I know this; if a person, resource, group, or church leaves me more confused than convicted about the message of Jesus, it cannot be the place for me.
Lord, please bless my efforts and forgive my inaccurate doubts. Amen.
Thursday, September 5, 2019
Why I Didn't Convert to These Religions
Various faith traditions over the millenia have made efforts
to try to explain the unexplainable and make sense of the universe, to find our
purpose in life and look towards something beyond the material. Over the years, I’ve researched many of these
traditions, and having decided to stick with the religious tradition of my upbringing,
I note below why these other faith traditions didn’t convince me to convert (although
many came very close).
Hinduism is probably the farthest removed from a helpful
explanation of the human condition, for it merely recognizes the unfortunate inequality
between people and, rather than being motivated to reach beyond oneself to help
others, it simply places blame on them so as to relieve oneself of any
obligation to serve others. Hindus fear
becoming like the less fortunate in a future life, and this fear motivates them
to attempt to earn a better social standing.
Yet somehow this motivation does not actually do much to help those
already in lesser position.
Native American and many other indigenous spiritualities
often recognize the importance of creation and our responsibility towards it,
but they merge that which was created with Who created it. Polytheism is an attempt to reach for an
origin to what we see, yet somehow the idea of a single Source is lost on those
who believe in various gods and goddesses.
For a long time I have been fascinated with eastern philosophies
of Taoism and Buddhism. Taoism focuses
on the balance of everything in nature, which is absolutely true and beautiful
to reflect on. What it fails to recognize
a loving Creator God behind the very principles that the philosophy
observes. Buddhism recognizes the
inevitability of suffering in this world and acknowledges that it is desire
that is behind suffering, yet it fails to recognize that our desires are not in
themselves somehow wrong or misplaced, and therefore the premise of Buddhism’s
attempt to snuff out desire is ill-placed.
The desire is placed their by our Creator God, and it points to an
eternal existence that cannot be realized in our earthly realm. It is not bad to want good things for oneself. It only becomes bad when a person becomes a
slave to the desire and fails to look beyond it. Certain desires are certainly to be overcome
with grace and discipline, but other desires point us to the very real human
need to fill a void that can only be filled by God Himself.
Shintoism focuses on ancestors, believing that there is a
divination process that takes place upon death, and one’s ancestors become gods
who must then be worshipped. Of course,
one’s elders ought to be respected, and there’s truth in the belief of life
after death. But what’s missing is the
Creator God.
Islam and Judaism, in my view, are two sides of the same
coin. Both recognize a single Creator
God and the need to “do good”. It would
seem the reason Islam came into being is because of political reasons. People longed for the one true God but couldn’t
imagine “joining” the already existing Judaism (or Christianity, for that
matter). This is of course a simplistic
observation of a mere amateur bystander.
Christianity, at its core, incorporates all of these
aspects. It recognizes the problem of
inequality among people, the interconnectedness of everyone and creation, the
existence of opposites in all aspects of life, the value of those who have come
before us, and the recognition that we all it all to a single Creator God. What distinguishes Christianity from Judaism
and Islam is the level of control that we actually have over it all. Judaism and Islam indicate that enough “good
works” will satisfy God and grant us access to Him in the afterlife. Christianity realizes the futility of this approach
and instead notes that while we are indeed called to “good works”, these are
not what “get us into heaven”. Rather,
it is simply God’s grace, a free gift of self-giving love, that enables us to
be saved from our own downfall. He loved
us enough to take the blame for our sins.
No amount of penance would ever completely erase the wrongs of our
erroneous thoughts, words, deeds, and omissions over the course of a
lifetime. Yet though He’s a just God, more
than that He is a loving and therefore forgiving God.
The difference between a Christian’s good works and those of a
Muslim or Jew is that the Christian, if truly living according to the Gospel,
does the good deeds out of a sense of gratitude to God for having been saved, not
out of a sense of obligation or fear or in the hopes of manipulating God to
favor her or him in the afterlife. In other
words, the Christian is motivated by love.
Except that many in-name-only Christians misrepresent Jesus
and what He calls us to. They prioritize
the incidentals and minimize the crucial gospel-living behavior. They worship in churches on Sundays (or Saturdays),
they speak openly about their love of Jesus, they quickly point out the
wrongdoing of others and quote relevant Scriptures to back up their judgment
calls, they claim to love the unbelievers and want nothing more than to see
them in heaven… All while they ignore the marginalized of society, focus only
on the in-group (Americans are in no way immune to ethnocentricity, even if
there isn’t a single ethnicity that defines Americans), and selectively point
to Scriptures excusing them from help. Luke
11:42 speaks to this phenomenon: “But woe to you Pharisees! For you pay tithe of mint and rue and every
kind of garden herb, and yet disregard justice and the love of God; but these
are the things you should have done without neglecting the others.”
Yes, it is
important to keep the Sabbath holy, dress modestly, and share the gospel with
unbelievers… but not without also helping the immigrant, visiting the ill and
prisoner, reaching out to the unwanted, speaking truth to power. It’s not an either-or scenario. Doing the outward, obvious, and – dare I say –
easy part does not exempt one from the Christian responsibility to put oneself
out there, risk ridicule and ostracism along with our brothers and sisters whom
we are to help, serve, and thereby lead to Christ.
Purpose of Religion
When I think of religion, I think of a set of beliefs shared by a group of people, beliefs that are meant to motivate said people to live up to their potential, continuously become a better version of themselves, and empty themselves in order to allow the Divine to better live through them.
To me, religion is the science of things we cannot see or explain using current sets of knowledge. It is esoteric, experimental, subtle, massively grand, fascinatingly awe-inspiring… or at least these descriptions can be applied to the Divine (aka God to many people) that religion seeks to explain.
Religion is supposed to be an easy label to help categorize people according to the style of worship, core values, meaningful traditions and rituals, and underlying beliefs.
Is religion necessary in order to live a life pleasing to God? Religion, by definition, requires a group of people agreeing on certain core tenets. As such, it is true to say that there is no such think as a “religion of one”. However, is religion even necessary to please God?
One thing that is grossly missing in a lot of religious people’s lives is the process of personal discernment. Discernment requires a one-on-one relationship with the Almighty. Many Christians use the phrase “personal relationship with Christ”, but discernment isn’t merely “having” a relationship, but rather it describes how we are in this relationship. Discernment is quiet listening and waiting for the subtleties of God speaking to our hearts with His instructions, guidance, encouragement, consolation. Lots of people like to talk to God, many fewer ever take the time to listen to God speaking back.
Discernment is how Abraham went down in history as the father of monotheism. Discernment is how Jesus asserted His role in salvific history. Discernment is how Muhammad brought monotheism to people who may not have otherwise known it. Abraham was not Jewish; Jesus was not Christian; Muhammad was not Muslim. What made them great is not their religious affiliation, but their one-on-one relationship with the Almighty, which was defined by a life of discernment. We, too, can have that kind of relationship with God, regardless of where, when, or how we worship, or how we try to differentiate ourselves from others, or which of the many worthy values we choose to prioritize.
The worst thing that can happen to a spiritually minded person is group-think. Group-think, in the case of religion, is the idea that there is only one way to interpret ultimate reality, and that we (rather than anyone else) have it all figured out. Group-think forces people to choose a sense of community over the much scarier and lonelier road that leads to personal revelation. Group-think limits believers’ freedom, tries to tell them “they” (meaning whoever happens to be in a position of greatest authority in the group) have the correct interpretation and we ought to just fall in line if we know what’s good for us. Group-think uses fear tactics to herd people together. Group-think limits the very thing God created each of us for – freedom (think free will), courage, service, self-lessness.
If I’m being honest with myself, I do a lot of religious things. I do a lot of spiritual things. But I’m not truly following Jesus yet because I am constantly checking with “the powers that be” to see if what I’m receiving in prayer fits with what others have already acknowledged and affirmed. I’m not following Jesus because I worry about being questioned, being accused of wrong interpretation, being wrong. I’m not following Jesus because there is no fear in perfect love, and love is what Jesus is calling me to.
Much like the Sabbath, which Jesus said was made for man, not the other way around, I believe the Church likewise was made for man. The Church is supposed to be there to strengthen its members, to encourage its members, to support its members. Instead, what I often see is the Church dangling the promise of belongingness to those who check their critical thinking at the door. I see the Church manipulating control away from individuals for the sake of the group, but in the process the entire group suffers, not to mention all those outside the group. Jesus didn’t come to save one group among many. He came to save everybody. Regardless of religious affiliation.
Jesus was clear when He said there was only one thing needed for eternal life: to love God with everything we’ve got, and to love others the way we love ourselves (which also requires us to actually love ourselves in the first place, by the way) (Matthew 22:36-40). Elsewhere He also said that many people will cry out “Lord, Lord”, but He will look at the lives they led (not the beliefs they held) when admitting people into the Kingdom of God (Matthew 7:22-28). It’s interesting to note that the last verse here (Matthew 7:28) says, “when Jesus had finished these words, the multitudes were astonished at his teaching.” Even today, I think many religious, pious people would be “astonished” at this teaching. They’d be saying “yes, but…” Jesus doesn’t leave anything left to interpretation here. To follow Jesus means to DO God’s will. Not to talk about it, not to believe in it, but to DO it.
Yet most religiously-affiliated people are much too concerned about “right beliefs” or “right interpretations” than “right actions”. Oh, lots of people worry about the “right actions” of other people – quick to point out what people shouldn’t be doing because “the Bible says…”, but less people apply this standard to themselves. (Matthew 7:3 calls this “looking at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and paying no attention to the plank in your own eye.”)
Jesus calls us to change ourselves in order to change the world. He does not call us to strong-handedly attempt to change others by preaching at them, making laws that force people into a certain lifestyle over another, or denying people civil rights “on principle”. Recently, I’m saddened at the way people have used the catch-phrase “religious freedom” to try to force their own interpretations of Scriptures onto other people. They are held up by many religious people as modern day quasi-martyrs, when in fact, Jesus had something to say about the place of secular law in a spiritual person’s life when He said in Mathew 12:17, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Civil rights, social justice, these are secular ideals and they belong in the secular realm. Our spiritual beliefs ought to motivate us to live them out, not to change them according to our own interpretations. What applies to one group of people must apply to all groups of people.
There are people who will read this and cry “heretic”! Yet to be a heretic, one must first accept the premise that there even is such a thing as “accepted belief or doctrine”. Accepted by whom? Doesn’t this term basically mean that everyone is a heretic in relation to some set of beliefs? What is the point of such a label?
The beauty of Scriptures is that it is the living word of God. It is open to interpretation, and as such, is capable of speaking directly to the condition of an individual reader’s (or hearer’s) heart, based on their unique circumstances, life experiences, and personality traits. This is the subtlety of God at it’s finest. This is discernment. There is no “how-to” guide to pleasing God that is equally applicable to everyone. Each of us must consult God directly and honestly, willing to be called a heretic, willing to be ostracized, willing to be threatened with the withdrawal of community, willing to put one’s conscience on the line for the sake of truth. Truth is ultimate, but it is not simple nor easy to explain.
Truth and application are in fact not one and the same. Gravity is true. Yet how gravity applies to someone walking a tightrope versus how it applies to our very planet in orbit differs. The point of reference for each is different. It doesn’t make gravity any less true in one of the circumstances. While on Earth, gravity pulls us towards its center. While in the cosmos, our Earth orbits around the Sun, not itself. The planet is no longer the source of that gravity. Likewise, God calls each of us to Himself in different ways, and none of us are able to discern on behalf of anyone else. It simply cannot be done. We can impose our own interpretations onto others, but this is not the same, nor is it in any way helpful to either party, and certainly it’s not what God calls each individual to do.
So, if I can’t simply trust my religion to tell me what God wants me to do, how do I please God? What exactly do I need to be doing, on a regular, even daily, basis, so that I know that I am right with God? How exactly does a life following Jesus look like?
I know it doesn’t look like sitting comfortably in my middle-class suburban home, enjoying many luxuries that my husband’s salary can afford our family of 4, without actually sharing the wealth with others. I know it doesn’t look like writing a check here and there and patting myself on the back for “being generous.” I know it doesn’t look like enjoying myself in worship, being intellectually stimulated by a provocative homily, moved to tears by inspiring music, comforted by beautiful stained glass or other decorations. It doesn’t look like simply being known by name by many people who happen to spend time at the same place as I do during the same times (Mass at my church, the same events and small groups, etc). I know that it does not mean simply following the 10 commandments. Um, those are pretty basic. Like, Kindergarten in the school of life. You have to have those down before moving on to bigger and better things, but you certainly have not graduated if that’s all you’ve got.
Jesus actually did give us several ideas, both through His words and through His actions. He spent time with people no respectable person wanted to be caught with. He talked to them as if He didn’t realize their past mistakes. Yet He did not coddle them. He called them out of themselves, challenged them to keep striving to be better, not to settle. He healed those who were in need of healing. He celebrated the good times and wept along side others during the sad times. He got justifiably upset at people who were cheating others (turning over tables at the temple). He called out those who said one thing but did another. He welcomed everyone willing to follow Him. He turned no one away. Sometimes people turned away from Him on their own, but it was never He who turned them away. He also took time for Himself. He lived by example form start to finish. He knew that time alone with God the Father Almighty was what gave Him the Spirit of conviction, courage, wisdom. He knew there must be a balance between service and self-care.
And He told us in the Beatitudes some examples of what following Him entails (in Matthew 5:3-12): Blessed (happy) are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted because of righteousness, those who are insulted or persecuted or falsely accused because of Him.
To me, religion is the science of things we cannot see or explain using current sets of knowledge. It is esoteric, experimental, subtle, massively grand, fascinatingly awe-inspiring… or at least these descriptions can be applied to the Divine (aka God to many people) that religion seeks to explain.
Religion is supposed to be an easy label to help categorize people according to the style of worship, core values, meaningful traditions and rituals, and underlying beliefs.
Is religion necessary in order to live a life pleasing to God? Religion, by definition, requires a group of people agreeing on certain core tenets. As such, it is true to say that there is no such think as a “religion of one”. However, is religion even necessary to please God?
One thing that is grossly missing in a lot of religious people’s lives is the process of personal discernment. Discernment requires a one-on-one relationship with the Almighty. Many Christians use the phrase “personal relationship with Christ”, but discernment isn’t merely “having” a relationship, but rather it describes how we are in this relationship. Discernment is quiet listening and waiting for the subtleties of God speaking to our hearts with His instructions, guidance, encouragement, consolation. Lots of people like to talk to God, many fewer ever take the time to listen to God speaking back.
Discernment is how Abraham went down in history as the father of monotheism. Discernment is how Jesus asserted His role in salvific history. Discernment is how Muhammad brought monotheism to people who may not have otherwise known it. Abraham was not Jewish; Jesus was not Christian; Muhammad was not Muslim. What made them great is not their religious affiliation, but their one-on-one relationship with the Almighty, which was defined by a life of discernment. We, too, can have that kind of relationship with God, regardless of where, when, or how we worship, or how we try to differentiate ourselves from others, or which of the many worthy values we choose to prioritize.
The worst thing that can happen to a spiritually minded person is group-think. Group-think, in the case of religion, is the idea that there is only one way to interpret ultimate reality, and that we (rather than anyone else) have it all figured out. Group-think forces people to choose a sense of community over the much scarier and lonelier road that leads to personal revelation. Group-think limits believers’ freedom, tries to tell them “they” (meaning whoever happens to be in a position of greatest authority in the group) have the correct interpretation and we ought to just fall in line if we know what’s good for us. Group-think uses fear tactics to herd people together. Group-think limits the very thing God created each of us for – freedom (think free will), courage, service, self-lessness.
If I’m being honest with myself, I do a lot of religious things. I do a lot of spiritual things. But I’m not truly following Jesus yet because I am constantly checking with “the powers that be” to see if what I’m receiving in prayer fits with what others have already acknowledged and affirmed. I’m not following Jesus because I worry about being questioned, being accused of wrong interpretation, being wrong. I’m not following Jesus because there is no fear in perfect love, and love is what Jesus is calling me to.
Much like the Sabbath, which Jesus said was made for man, not the other way around, I believe the Church likewise was made for man. The Church is supposed to be there to strengthen its members, to encourage its members, to support its members. Instead, what I often see is the Church dangling the promise of belongingness to those who check their critical thinking at the door. I see the Church manipulating control away from individuals for the sake of the group, but in the process the entire group suffers, not to mention all those outside the group. Jesus didn’t come to save one group among many. He came to save everybody. Regardless of religious affiliation.
Jesus was clear when He said there was only one thing needed for eternal life: to love God with everything we’ve got, and to love others the way we love ourselves (which also requires us to actually love ourselves in the first place, by the way) (Matthew 22:36-40). Elsewhere He also said that many people will cry out “Lord, Lord”, but He will look at the lives they led (not the beliefs they held) when admitting people into the Kingdom of God (Matthew 7:22-28). It’s interesting to note that the last verse here (Matthew 7:28) says, “when Jesus had finished these words, the multitudes were astonished at his teaching.” Even today, I think many religious, pious people would be “astonished” at this teaching. They’d be saying “yes, but…” Jesus doesn’t leave anything left to interpretation here. To follow Jesus means to DO God’s will. Not to talk about it, not to believe in it, but to DO it.
Yet most religiously-affiliated people are much too concerned about “right beliefs” or “right interpretations” than “right actions”. Oh, lots of people worry about the “right actions” of other people – quick to point out what people shouldn’t be doing because “the Bible says…”, but less people apply this standard to themselves. (Matthew 7:3 calls this “looking at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and paying no attention to the plank in your own eye.”)
Jesus calls us to change ourselves in order to change the world. He does not call us to strong-handedly attempt to change others by preaching at them, making laws that force people into a certain lifestyle over another, or denying people civil rights “on principle”. Recently, I’m saddened at the way people have used the catch-phrase “religious freedom” to try to force their own interpretations of Scriptures onto other people. They are held up by many religious people as modern day quasi-martyrs, when in fact, Jesus had something to say about the place of secular law in a spiritual person’s life when He said in Mathew 12:17, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Civil rights, social justice, these are secular ideals and they belong in the secular realm. Our spiritual beliefs ought to motivate us to live them out, not to change them according to our own interpretations. What applies to one group of people must apply to all groups of people.
There are people who will read this and cry “heretic”! Yet to be a heretic, one must first accept the premise that there even is such a thing as “accepted belief or doctrine”. Accepted by whom? Doesn’t this term basically mean that everyone is a heretic in relation to some set of beliefs? What is the point of such a label?
The beauty of Scriptures is that it is the living word of God. It is open to interpretation, and as such, is capable of speaking directly to the condition of an individual reader’s (or hearer’s) heart, based on their unique circumstances, life experiences, and personality traits. This is the subtlety of God at it’s finest. This is discernment. There is no “how-to” guide to pleasing God that is equally applicable to everyone. Each of us must consult God directly and honestly, willing to be called a heretic, willing to be ostracized, willing to be threatened with the withdrawal of community, willing to put one’s conscience on the line for the sake of truth. Truth is ultimate, but it is not simple nor easy to explain.
Truth and application are in fact not one and the same. Gravity is true. Yet how gravity applies to someone walking a tightrope versus how it applies to our very planet in orbit differs. The point of reference for each is different. It doesn’t make gravity any less true in one of the circumstances. While on Earth, gravity pulls us towards its center. While in the cosmos, our Earth orbits around the Sun, not itself. The planet is no longer the source of that gravity. Likewise, God calls each of us to Himself in different ways, and none of us are able to discern on behalf of anyone else. It simply cannot be done. We can impose our own interpretations onto others, but this is not the same, nor is it in any way helpful to either party, and certainly it’s not what God calls each individual to do.
So, if I can’t simply trust my religion to tell me what God wants me to do, how do I please God? What exactly do I need to be doing, on a regular, even daily, basis, so that I know that I am right with God? How exactly does a life following Jesus look like?
I know it doesn’t look like sitting comfortably in my middle-class suburban home, enjoying many luxuries that my husband’s salary can afford our family of 4, without actually sharing the wealth with others. I know it doesn’t look like writing a check here and there and patting myself on the back for “being generous.” I know it doesn’t look like enjoying myself in worship, being intellectually stimulated by a provocative homily, moved to tears by inspiring music, comforted by beautiful stained glass or other decorations. It doesn’t look like simply being known by name by many people who happen to spend time at the same place as I do during the same times (Mass at my church, the same events and small groups, etc). I know that it does not mean simply following the 10 commandments. Um, those are pretty basic. Like, Kindergarten in the school of life. You have to have those down before moving on to bigger and better things, but you certainly have not graduated if that’s all you’ve got.
Jesus actually did give us several ideas, both through His words and through His actions. He spent time with people no respectable person wanted to be caught with. He talked to them as if He didn’t realize their past mistakes. Yet He did not coddle them. He called them out of themselves, challenged them to keep striving to be better, not to settle. He healed those who were in need of healing. He celebrated the good times and wept along side others during the sad times. He got justifiably upset at people who were cheating others (turning over tables at the temple). He called out those who said one thing but did another. He welcomed everyone willing to follow Him. He turned no one away. Sometimes people turned away from Him on their own, but it was never He who turned them away. He also took time for Himself. He lived by example form start to finish. He knew that time alone with God the Father Almighty was what gave Him the Spirit of conviction, courage, wisdom. He knew there must be a balance between service and self-care.
And He told us in the Beatitudes some examples of what following Him entails (in Matthew 5:3-12): Blessed (happy) are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted because of righteousness, those who are insulted or persecuted or falsely accused because of Him.
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