Deconversion - check; Deconstruction - in progress

I have been detoxing from my scrupulous religiosity for a good many months now.  

The first thing that happened is I gave myself permission to miss Sunday Mass.  This was big bc I had an almost compulsion to work around that weekly ritual.  Now, having missed a few Sundays, I am able to still attend without it feeling like a must.  My husband and son really still like going, and since it's been a family tradition for us all these years, and we haven't found a replacement yet, I still go.  My son in particular enjoys serving at the altar, and since we have a move coming up where he won't be able to continue serving at the new location, I want to give him the opportunity while we still can.  

The shift in thinking from "Sunday obligation" to "family tradition" has allowed me to still get some spiritual benefit from the liturgy.  I'm not sitting there angry at having to be there, or at having to listen to preaching I disagree with.  Technically I'm not sitting much anyway since we attend an Eastern Rite Catholic church ;) .  Rather, I focus on what I find enjoyable - the beautiful interior, the ability to sing/chant 90 % of the liturgy, watch my son doing something he takes great pride in, and this lets me turn a blind eye to any message that might come across as problematic for my deconverted sense of truth and justice.

Perhaps tied for first place was also my prayer life.  I stopped praying.  It wasn't that difficult.  At the height of my most recent religiosity, I recited the Modeh Ani (Jewish morning prayer) in Hebrew and English upon opening my eyes in the morning.  I recited prescribed prayers in front of our prayer corner, with icon veneration and metanoias (venerations).  For a time, I covered my head with a scarf as well.  Slowly, the practice dwindled to an evening family prayer where we just cuddled together in the dark and prayed.  This is the practice that needed tweaking once I made the conscious decision that I have deconverted.  I had to stop dragging my family through my spiritual quest, as I had been doing and they had graciously come along for the ride.  Besides, gathering together right before bed was a good practice.  It's just that what was said and done during it had to get tweaked.  

We kept a couple of rote prayers we cycle through as a way of continuity, and we sing a favorite hymn or just the Our Father together.  But the focus of this time together has shifted to non-spiritual things.  We go through and say what we are grateful for (which may or may not be seen as spiritual).  Then we say something we like about each other, including ourselves.  This started as a way of strengthening sibling bonds between my oft quarreling kiddos.  We then mention something we're working on ourselves that may need some accountability and/or what we need from each other in the coming days, as a way of encouraging open communication and humility.  

But otherwise, my so-called prayer-life has been getting replaced by a meditation practice.  In the past week or two, I've crossed into prayer during one of them - I do miss having a personal God to talk to, Whom I believe to have my back no matter what.  I hope to eventually land there, but for now, it's still marred by a very religiously dogmatic lens that I don't want to reintroduce into my spiritual life.

Probably the most freeing change as a result of my deconversion has been the process of revisiting my worldview as a whole, and reassessing my politics and ethics without reference to "what the church says".  I have returned to a more liberal political viewpoint, and I had to face head-on the single issue that always prevented me from truly and fully embracing leftist ideology: abortion.  Roe v Wade was just recently overturned, while I was very much still religious and unapologetically Pro-Life.  It was that day that I told my children about abortion.  I had been dreading the topic, but I felt elated when it was overturned.  I wanted to explain to them why I supported some candidates and not others, when the only reason was really their stance on abortion.  But now that I was revisiting the issue, I realized that it's way more complicated than I was led to believe, way more nuanced, and there really isn't a single clear solution to the problem, aside from universal voluntary abstinence which apparently is a no-go for a lot of people who are much more vested in their sexuality than I am.

I remember giving a talk at a women's retreat where I shared that feminism had become a type of religion for me.... Or was it environmentalism?  Either way, I was criticizing myself back then for letting something "other than God" replace my sense of direction in life.  My lifestyle and actions were seen as worshipping ideals other than God, but really, this was only true if "God" were defined as the war-lord of the Hebrew Bible and not the Universal Source and Destiny of Taoism.  To worship the God of Nature - the only God that it makes sense to worship - means to do many of the environmental actions encouraged by "the left".  Starting with not being wasteful.  Valuing natural resources and the contributions of all species to life on our planet.  Dismissing materialistic and convenience-based practices in favor of ones that build life up.  Really, I was becoming more "pro-life" by expanding my acceptance of ALL life, all lives, not just those from a narrow set of issues supported or opposed by the church (abortion, embryonic stem cell research, artificial reproductive technology, capital punishment, euthenasia...).  There were issues of life that never got touched with a ten-foot pole by adamant pro-lifers - the exceedingly high suicide rates among trans and gay youth, the plight of children neglected and abused by religious extremists, sexual harassment and abuse and rape of young women.  Immigration was an issue that was embraced by the Catholic church, but not by Evangelicals, who have warped into the American Nationalist Christianity of MAGA Trumpism.  

At any rate, I realized that if there ever was a disconnect between my religion and my conscience, the problem was not my conscience!  Even though that is precisely what is taught in catechism - that we have to "form" our conscience.  That we don't know what's right or wrong unless we are taught it from an authority wearing vestments at the altar.  Talk about gaslighting!  I am so done with being gaslit from my codependent upbringing in a family of an undifferentiated mass!  I'm supposed to doubt the still, small voice inside of me (in spite of what the Bible says (1 Kings 19:11-13) in favor of trusting external authority?  Based on what evidence?  Their lived experiences were somehow more trustworthy than my own?  Ahh, and there's that pesky word - evidence. 

I realized that I was becoming more scientifically minded.  I wanted to study formal logic and critical thinking.  I wanted to use reason.  And while I do recognize that reason is not actually a perfect guiding light, it beats brainwashing every day of the week.  I kept coming back to this word: nuance.  

Neither religions - any of them - nor the strictly secular, atheistic resources I started to dabble in were actually correct.  Everything in life and in the world is nuanced.  Nothing is actually black or white.  Imagine the blow that had on my autistic brain!

So my deconversion is now complete, but my deconstruction is ongoing.  I no longer believe in the literal dogmas of Christianity - none of their variety, nor the competing monotheistic options of Islam or Judaism.  Now begins the exciting part of figuring out what I DO believe then, and what that means for my spiritual practices, how I share these things with my children, how I make moral choices in life, and the inner dialogue that I carry with me.  See, I was once diagnosed with mild OCD, which may or may not be a valid diagnosis, but it points to the scrupulosity with which I tried my best for decades to "be a good person".  I measured myself using artificial metrics that no one could live up to (Virgin Mother, anyone?).  Was there any wonder that I constantly second-guessed myself?  That I deferred to others even against my better judgment?  That I had a hard time establishing healthy boundaries with my mom?  Religion not only didn't help with my mental health, it made it worse.  Now that I'm free of it, I can start to rebuild my life on what is truly good, beautiful, and well, true.  

 

My faith died a natural death

I am not only deconstructing my faith anymore; I'm officially deconverting.  It's as if a fog has gently been lifting from having surrounded me all my life.  Whenever I wanted to convert to yet another religion, it was when I felt the fog start to lift and desperately clung to anything resembling it - smog, clouds, steam.  But for whatever reason, this time it was different.  This time, my faith simply and gently... passed away.  I knew that what I believed wasn't "true" as in "factual", but I still felt that I could reasonably believe it on a symbolic level.  The faith was still useful to me as a metaphor.  But as time went on, I realized that actually, while it may have been a good transition, it wasn't a place I could permanently reside.  Faith of any level still entailed church attendance and thereby association with a community of believers with whom I did not agree about the ultimate reality of things, nor the resulting set of values that emerge from certain religious beliefs.  Faith meant reciting certain prayers that I felt were not only untrue, but now unhelpful and distracting at best and downright counterproductive at worst.  Most telling of all was that faith was giving my children explanations that I no longer believed in myself.  And that is where I had to draw the line.  I could not - would not - lie to my children.

And so now I'm left with the empty shell of religious observance minus religious faith, and I'm trying to figure out a way to rid myself of the unnecessary remnants.  My husband, bless his heart, has always followed me into whatever church I wanted our family to attend, even though he never fully embraced any organized religious world view.  He simply held his private beliefs and felt no need for external validation by a community of like-minded believers.  He just liked the fellowship.  And now I'm trying to pull him out altogether and I don't know how to proceed.

What's more, after spending the first decade of parenting doing all I could to help my children embrace our Catholic religion, specifically going on a two year journey of church shopping for the most reverent Mass experience in order to surround them with people who "took their faith seriously", I now find myself no longer taking our faith seriously.  I go through the motions because it's familiar, and there are certainly parts I enjoy.  But I feel the need to dechurch a bit, shake off the internalized guilt-inducing sense of "Sunday obligation".  

I know that moving to the UK in a few months will provide a natural transition, so perhaps all I have to do is wait it out.  The Universe has been gracious like this to me before. 

We finally found a reverent, beautiful church that allowed my son to receive Communion without having to wait for an arbitrary age... and New Year's Eve 2023 he impromptu began serving at the altar and hasn't looked back.  He loves it!  And we have enjoyed seeing him bond with other alter servers, most of whom are grown men, in an all-boys type environment.  But the flip side of that is.... now that we're in a church that embraces my son without discriminating against him by age.... we're also in a church that discriminates against my daughter on account of her sex/gender.  Not when it comes to reception of Communion, but still.  

In spite of the reverence and beauty and small community, my daughter is no more a believer than she was at the onset.  And now I've joined her.  She believes certain things - like the existence of God, without details about that, and has theories about life after death, but nothing that requires church or organized religion.  But my son seems to be hooked!  He's recently asked if, when we return from the UK, we can return to this church. Of course, a lot can change in 3 years, I hope.

I've spoken to my husband about finding a Sunday alternative in the UK where we can go as a family and enjoy community with others, some singing, some sort of ritual (my son likes "holding things" and "processions") and making a contribution to the gathering/community (my daughter liked helping to make the Prosphora bread that was then used for Communion during Sunday services).  We alreayd know we won't be going to another Byzentine church in the UK as the nearest one is 4 hours away.  So for now we're letting my son enjoy his time serving at the altar while he can.  

Maybe the whole thing will die a natural death after all through this move.  Maybe we'll find Sunday family nature hikes to be much more replenishing for our souls and our family.  Maybe we'll plug into some other communities, built around common interests and/or values instead of presumed common beliefs. That is my wish for us on this next leg of our journey.

Spiritual and Religious, but not like you think

Religion need not be a one-stop reality center.  Traditional roles of religion can be replaced by non-religious practices and spaces.  

Morality needs to be an inner conviction.  

Charity needs to be tied to the general community, both local and global, that surrounds us. 

Fellowship can be found in both, religious and non-religious circles.  

Beauty and inspiration and the experience of God’s presence can likewise be found in a sacred space set aside for the purpose, and in nature.  However, there is something to be said about a space specially prepared by humans.  There is a balance to be had between Nature – God’s speaking to us, and Sacred Space - our response to God.  We make an effort to likewise return the favor of beauty and inspiration by creating sacred spaces where we gather with others wanting to commune with God.  

Agreement between the faithful is impossible on all matters, so it’s pointless to use this as a litmus test of where we ought to worship.  

But worship we must.  That is something I feel deeply, the need to worship.  Not just stand outside and take in with awe the beauty of God’s creation, but also to DO something about it. And not just to gather together and talk intellectually about generic faith application.  Worship, to me, means getting lost in the presence of God.  Living the way God intended, in the present moment, with God at the center of the experience.

And when I think of the experience of worship, when I think of how worship should feel, I think of beauty, awe, inspiration, being transported to a timeless space where the mundane falls away and I begin to sense a merging with the people around me, all reaching spiritually for our greater sense of self, all being united in God on a plane invisible to the naked eye.

Truth becomes something that cannot be explained or understood within the confines of language.  Therefore, no doctrine, no theology, no dogma even comes close to the Gospel of the Real Presence of God, which can only be attained through direct experience.  In the end, we cannot come to God, to a relationship with God, vicariously.  

We cannot merely read about it in Scriptures and think we have arrived.  We cannot merely take the word of prophets on their personal experiences of God and think our reading about their experiences is the same thing as us experiencing what they experienced.  We cannot ever use what worked for others and try to force ourselves into it, for the minute we do, we fail to look to God and instead look to mere messengers.  In lieu of observing the moon through the telescope, we gaze longingly at the telescope, thinking we have seen the moon.

When we say we are people of faith, faith in what or whom?  Faith in a religion?  A human organization fraught with imperfections?  Faith in others? If we believe their experiences, why not our own?  Do we believe God has favorites?  I don't! 

When I say I have faith, that I am a person of faith, I mean that I have faith in God.  That God exists, though I cannot tell you what this God is like, other than that God is beyond anything I could come up with in my human imagination.  I can draw comparisons, like God is Ultimate Reality, or God is Truth, or God is Life, or God is Love.  But I like what God is purported to have said about Godself in Exodus 3:14; "I AM that I AM."  In other words, all we need to know about God is that God exists.  That's it.  Who God is, or even WHAT God is, is not at all the point.  We get lost bickering about the details of something none of us will ever fully comprehend within the limits of our minds, yet we insist on using our intellect to try to "prove" a reality that is beyond us in every way.  

The faith that I have is linked with trust as well.  I trust that all I need to know about God IS that God exists.  I trust that God does not try to hide Godself from anyone, myself included.  Therefore, I trust that God is always present to me, and all I need to do is turn my attention to God's presence and I am in communion with God.  I can do so without the aid of others, without the aid of specially "trained" or ordained ministers who claim "authority" that is withheld from others.  I can do so without the sanctions of a special organization (religion), outside the walls of special buildings (church or other "place of worship"), and using my own words or no words at all to arrive "at the gates of heaven".  

My faith tells me that God loves me and guides me and meets me where I am.  My faith tells me that I don't have to have anything figured out in order to enjoy God's presence.  My faith tells me that death, like everything else in life and nature, is a mere transition, and there is no reason to fear what's on the other side, because no matter what, God will still be "there" with me.  My faith tells me that each of us is working on different parts of ourselves at different times, and there is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all spirituality.  Judgment is a sure sign of falling away from communion with God, so I am learning not to judge - others or myself.  

But I also recognize that God made us for community with each other.  And perhaps the imperfections of my fellow humans are necessary in a well-balanced spiritual life, to keep me honest and humble, to expand my horizons of spiritual experiences, and to allow me the chance to recognize God's presence in others, so I don't fall into the delusion of thinking that *I* "am" God.  God dwells in me, this is true.  But *I* am merely an incarnation of a small spark of the Divine Spirit.  That one spark (me) is not equal to the whole from which I come and in which I belong.  So long as I am in this human, earthly body, I must maintain a sense of separation between where I end and where God begins, without losing the crucial component of us being intimately connected at all times.  It's a fine line, a nuanced dance, and it is called the art of life.

Therefore, I am both spiritual and religious.  I do not take religion at face value.  I do not "believe" in the teachings of religion as "facts".  Perhaps some of the features of the religion I choose to affiliate with are helpful to others, even if they are not helpful to me.  I cannot judge where others are on their journey.  I can let them be on their journey and stay on my own journey and we can come together in the sacred space and during sacred time of Divine Liturgy, where we gather to worship God and commune in God's presence.

Spiritual Independence

I have discovered recently that the underlying reason for my codependence is anxiety.  The way I came to that was by recognizing my overdependence on external validation and seeking approval of others.  The reason for this, as it turns out, is my lack of trusting myself.  And the result has been living from a place of ongoing anxiety.  The anecdote is confidence.  So I am slowly working on building my confidence in various areas of my life. 

Once I recognized the weak boundaries I have with certain individuals in my life, at one point it dawned on me that I likewise have weak boundaries with the Catholic Church.  I seek the approval of Church figures, I don't trust my own conscience, and I operate from a place of anxiety.  This led to a spiritual quest that took me on a mission of finding a place of worship where I already agree with the people there so that I don't have to face disapproval!  It did finally occur to me that no such place exists, and that what I actually need is to work on embracing the potential conflict that may arise if and when I speak my mind.

An interesting but sad thing happened as I allowed myself the freedom to think for myself.  You see, that's the problem with codependence, boundary violations, external validation - you let someone or something outside of yourself tell you who you are, what to think, and how to feel about any given thing.  I grew up with this sort of dysfunction in my family of origin, but it was once I realized it bled over into my faith life that the rubber hit the road.  I realized that I didn't understand the very word "conscience" itself, supposedly something the Catechism of the Catholic Church claims is of paramount importance even above and beyond church teaching.  Because the RCC teaches that a conscience ought to be "formed" by thorough study of what the Church teaches and why.  Basically, if I didn't agree with something the Church taught, my conscience "wasn't formed" well enough.  Come again?!  So only people who agreed with the Church had a fully working conscience?  This of course is ludicrous.  The very definition of conscience implies that no one outside of oneself can affect it. 

Once I allowed myself to listen to my own conscience, without fear of judgment from "Catholic authorities", I started to ask questions that I never dared ask before.  The trajectory of my unraveling faith was as follows.

1. Even before I started down this road, I believed in universal "salvation" (though I use that term loosely, for I don't believe in original sin nor the idea that God "needed" the atoning death of Jesus in order to let me back into His good graces in the afterlife).  What this meant was that I didn't believe my religion was the one true religion.  Perhaps, at my most serious in the faith, I thought we were "the closest", but certainly still missing bits and pieces of information.

2. I started to object to certain teachings of the Church that went against my inner sense of justice.  Namely, I disagree with the Church's stance on LGBTQ rights.  I disagree with the excessive fixation on sexual ethics to the near exclusion of all other transgressions.  I disagree that God would make some people attracted to the same sex and then impose lifelong celibacy on them.  Celibacy ought to be something entered into willingly, after discernment, and given there is the other valid option of a lifelong committed relationship (namely, marriage) held out as an alternative.  In other words, I couldn't get on board with the Church's anti-gay marriage rhetoric and the various discriminatory practices by Catholic institutions done in the name of "religious freedom".

3. Once I loosened the control the Church had on my conscience, I started exploring various religions, which I've done previously.  But this time, I started to notice something.  Each group seemed to be using certain critiques to discount the teachings of other groups, without applying the same critiques to themselves.  This became most noticeable when I was watching a popular Orthodox Rabbi on YouTube.  He was of course critiquing Christianity as a whole, but he said - how can mainstream Christians reject the idea of Mormons or Muslims reinterpreting Christian Scriptures and claiming additional revelations and prophets, yet they accept their own changes and reinterpretations of the original Hebrew Scriptures?  I knew he was right.  And then I added... and what is so uniquely sacred about the Hebrew Scriptures that makes them sacred beyond questioning?  If we don't believe in the more recent prophets' revelations, why should we believe in more ancient prophets' revelations?  Why can't God simply reveal Himself to each of us directly, based on our receptivity?  And so, I realized I could not follow any religion based on the supposed limited "special" revelation of supposed prophets.  The prophets of the world, or at least their followers and the interpretations of their revelations, don't agree.  Hence, we have as many different religions as we do today.  Some, like the Bahai, claim that all prophets are saying the same message, yet this has not at all been a universal understanding of religious prophecy.  The most recent prophet is always thought to be the more relevant one.

4. Once I left revealed religion behind, I automatically had to put down written Scriptures.  The Bible was no longer a source of authority for me.  A modern group of influential leaders could gather the inspired writings of more recent spiritual gurus, like Deepak Chopra, let's say, and declare these to be the Modern Testament, Scriptures that supersede all the others.

5. Without Scriptures or organized religion of any kind dictating the boundaries of where my thoughts could wonder, I began to look at how other faiths envision Ultimate Reality.  I started to question the nature of God as He is presented in the Bible and in Christianity.  I realized that this God, indeed was made in the image of man - with human weaknesses of character that led him to be full of wrath, fickle, power-hungry, jealous, violent, and then to smooth things over, merciful and forgiving.  It sounded like a control freak show, honestly.  You never knew "which" god you would get.  Mainstream Christians would tell gay people that their active engagement in homosexuality would invoke the wrath of God, but their own tendencies to lie, cheat, even kill - well, God was all loving and all forgiving then.  It was utter nonsense.  I couldn't believe in "this" god any longer.  I realized that this god was simply too small.

6. I was ok with God being less personal, more mysterious.  After all, technically that is what Christians already believe about God, yet they continue to try to make sense of Him with various attempts at domesticating Him.  If it's not the Trinity, then it's calling Him Our Father.  We are never forced to just accept the fact that God -whatever and whoever God is - is simply beyond our understanding.  We ought to just be grateful God created us, and do our best to live a life of purpose and charity, so that we can better know God in the afterlife.

7. Ah, the afterlife.  I started to wonder about what sort of an afterlife we might have, since I didn't have to parrot back "bodily resurrection" or "heaven and hell".   I was never particularly attached to the idea of having a physical body in the afterlife.  I was more or less thinking that our soul was what lived on.  I just didn't know the details.  As I pondered what the soul might be, I thought of consciousness.  Because it did me no good to think that we simply got reabsorbed into the Universal Force after death, and that the way we "lived forever" was in terms of the energy we left behind or our molecular restructuring or mere memories of those still living.  The kind of afterlife I always imagined was one where I was aware of myself.  Very anti-Buddhist.  I wanted to keep the Ego.

8. So I looked into what consciousness really was.  I watched a certain video by an atheist that explained the biological functions of consciousness, how certain parts of the brain are involved in our ability to be conscious of ourselves, and then it dawned on me - the implication is that once the body dies, so does the consciousness.  There goes my afterlife.  And this created a bit of a panic on my existential journey.  For better or worse, I am not prepared to abandon the idea of immortality.  I know it may sound cliche, and to some even naive.  But if I have to go through the rest of my life believing that when I die, that is the literal end of me and I will never again see any of my loved one, not the ones who went before me and not the ones I'm leaving behind?  Well, I'm sorry but I simply cannot imagine going through life with that world-view.

9. Thank God ( ;) ) I remembered an old argument by religionists against the secular materialistic scientific world-view.  Science as we know it today is actually rather new in the history of humanity.  It has definitively answered lots of questions that previously religions merely had theories about.  Yet I realized I was finding myself being swayed - yet again - by an outside source.  I was allowing the "scientific community" to tell me who I am, what to think, and how to feel.  So I shook off the depression and despair long enough to think this through.

In a way, science can be compared to religions in that it provides an alternate world-view.  Just like religions, it makes certain assumptions.  It holds certain values in higher esteem than others.  It has well-respected "prophets" and "authoritative writings".  Most markedly, it has set up a system of checking for evidence of theories within the material world, and rejects out of hand anything that doesn't exactly fit into its scientific method.  Sound familiar?  Religions likewise draw certain boundaries and just don't venture past them for fear of being proven wrong.

What's more, by definition science deals with the material world.  How, then, can science possibly answer any questions about the existence or nonexistence of a spiritual realm, when it is simply not equipped to measure frequencies beyond the physical?  It is easy to say that if we can't measure it, it doesn't exist.  But it is not very honest to do so.

10. And so where I find myself is here:  I do not know what the nature of God is, nor what exactly awaits us in the afterlife.  However, I have had enough spiritual experiences to tell me that there must be something worthy of mention there. That science has no more ultimate truth than does religion.  One thing I think science does a much better job of than does religion is to focus on the improvement of our world, here and now.  Religion often prioritizes the afterlife over the here and now to the point of ignoring the legitimate needs of our planet and certain marginalized people.  Religions tend to cater to the poor, though not universally and often with limitations, not to mention failing to see how minority group membership status affects poverty.  Yet for all the bad things that religion has done and sadly continues to do, there are also things that religion is doing better than science, providing hope, meaning, purpose, comfort, as well as high standard for character formation.  We need both.  Perhaps in a few hundred years, there will be talk of ecumenical discussions between the scientific community and the religious community (singular), like there is today within religions.  Religions need to band together and focus on what they as a whole bring to the table, because if they continue to bicker among themselves, greedy to win maximum adherents, people will simply trickle out and get lost in the sea of science, living for today, but with no hope for tomorrow.

I know some people don't need the affirmation of God or an afterlife to feel fulfilled.  There are also people who don't seem bothered by their religion going against what science has already established as fact.  We need to accept that different people need different things to lead a happy life.  We need to find a way for science and religion to talk to each other, not over each other.  But that's for another day.  For now, suffice it to say that I am holding on to that last shred of spirituality that was nearly extinguished by my newfound freedom of thought.  And that I need to focus my attention on reframing my own religious tradition in a way that I will find meaningful, a way that I can teach to my children while maintaining integrity.

If indeed I need a label for this new spiritual adventure, perhaps Spiritual and Religious is the best available term.  Not specific to any one religion, but rather valuing different aspects of several different religions.  Yet spiritual first and foremost, pursuing an individual and unique spiritual practice, building fellowship in unusual places, and only supplementing and falling back on religion as a way of being grounded in something that - while I don't believe in it literally - has stood the test of time and certainly holds certain valuable truths about the human condition.

Alternately, I certainly am "Spiritually Independent", and so perhaps this term is even more appropriate, since I am in need of labels ;)

Losing My Religion

This R.E.M. song came to mind recently as I started on what I assumed was another leg of my spiritual seeker journey.  But the more time I spend pondering the future of my religious affiliation, the more confused and stressed out I feel. 

Why do I feel the need to even have a religious affiliation?  Why can't I let the particular beliefs and practices that I find soothing and relevant to me simply be what they are, without placing a label on them?

Well, it's because with that label comes a community.  A religious community is generally a group of people with shared beliefs, values, practices, traditions, etc.  The problem arises when there is a disconnect between one's beliefs or values that triggers a desire to look elsewhere for a better fit.  And the problem continues when one realized, after thorough research and consideration and "trying on" that while there may be other religious groups whose beliefs and values resonate perfectly with one's own, the associated practices and traditions simply don't jive.  They seem foreign, artificial, forced, irrelevant.  Yet it is in the practices that the faith tradition comes alive in community.  It's not a bunch of minds agreeing with each other that makes a community, but rather a bunch of people doing things together the same way.

And that is where I find myself.  I know plenty of people who recognize there is no perfect match for them and they just stay with whatever group whose practices are familiar and comfortable, and keep their beliefs private, or at least don't engage in arguments over them.  I know this is the easiest and most obvious thing to do.  And yet I'm struggling with it.

I feel like an impostor when I find myself keeping my mouth shut so as not to let on that I disagree with what was just mentioned as a given in a group of supposedly "like minded" fellow coreligionists of my same affiliation. Every time this happens, and it happens pretty frequently when you have as many objections as I do with the official beliefs of my faith tradition, I'm reminded of how I don't really fit it.  I'm reminded of how this isn't really me.  I'm reminded of how I'm compromising. 

Of course, I could also choose to opt out and join a group where I can have these open dialogues with people without worrying about getting their side-eye.  I could mingle only with people who value what I value and believe as I do, where we can talk about these things openly and without shame or fear of ridicule (or accusations of heresy or blasphemy).  But to do so, I'd have to engage in artificial rituals that hold no meaning for me.  And again, I'd feel like an impostor.  I'd feel inauthentic yet again.

A final option would be to simply stay away from all manner of religion altogether.  Pretend that deep topics don't interest or concern me.  Pretend that familiar ritual practices are not comforting to me.  Pretend that I could be a spiritual being without a spiritual community.  This would be a lie as well.  No one is an island, right?

The final option that I see before me is to patch a quilt of religious experiences into a coherent whole.  To divide my time between those groups that practice the familiar rituals that I find comforting and meaningful, and those groups with which I can engage intellectually.  I suppose the only thing left to do in that scenario is to decide on a label, something I need in order to understand my place in the world.  It could be two labels or a hyphenated label: Catholic Quaker, or Buddhist Unitarian Universalist, or Noahide Christian.  It could be finding the least common denominator between the two prominent groups that resonate with me for different reasons, and use that label instead of the two affiliations: Theist, Monotheist, Unitarian, Deist, Universalist. 

One label I don't think I can honestly use that I thought I could is spiritual-but-not-religious.  Because I am a religious being.  I just don't have a religious tradition that satisfies me philosophically and practically at the same time.

One label I cannot steer clear of is the label others may place on me.  Lapsed.  Cafeteria.  Non-practicing.  Heretic.  Schismatic.  Even blasphemer maybe?  No matter what path I find myself on, those not on it would inevitably label me as well: pagan, heathen, non-believer.

I am spiritual.  I am religious.  I am a global citizen.  I am a child of God.  I am the hands and feet of God in the world.  I am.

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.

Scandal and Fallout

So I have been living under a rock.  I mean, I "knew" about the previous sex abuse scandal in the Catholic church, but I never took any time to learn any details about it.  As recently as last month, I assured fellow Catholics that no one threatens to leave the country when scandal breaks out at the White House or among the police, because we know the country is built on something greater than the individuals that disappoint us. I didn't think it was any different with church membership.  But you know what, that's a little like comparing apples and oranges.  It's nowhere near as feasible for most people to migrate to a foreign country as it is for them to choose a different church to go to.

I also engaged in a little bit of "blame the victim" mentality, or rather, blame the victims' parents.  I thought - where were the parents of the kids being abused?  Why did they trust clergy to be alone with their children?  I've never been an altar server, nor have I ever attended vacation bible school.  I didn't meet many priests personally until recently.  So this is foreign territory for me.  But my daughter has now experienced her first vacation bible school.  I remember writing in my first letter to her that I support whatever path she may follow in life, consecrated religious life included.  I thought about the possibility of my son being a priest someday since before I had confirmation that I was pregnant with him. Today, I have to say that I would be very cautious about the idea, and I don't know that I'll actively encourage my kids to discern this possibility anymore.

And in a much more pressing, immediate scenario... Confession.  We may need to seek out the old screened confessional booths again to maintain some level of security and safety.  I love and trust our current pastor, but the sad truth is that these clerical criminals have tainted the reputation of all the clergy.  Their victims and their victims' parents also trusted them.  So my feelings of trust are no consolation anymore.

It is a sad day when I feel I have to take it upon myself to put into effect safety mechanisms to protect my family from the leaders of my church.  It shouldn't be like that.  The church is not supposed to be just another secular organization.  Yet, I don't see how I can see it as anything other than anymore.

Jesus said to Peter in Matthew 16:18 "upon this rock I will build My church; and the gates of Hades will not overpower it." So I'm left with a few thoughts on this.  One - I believe that Jesus meant to establish a church based on the leadership of Peter.  Two - I believe Satan has been attacking Christ's church and this is a renewed effort. Three - I don't believe Jesus started an organization, so I don't think it is necessary to think of His Church in terms of a hierarchy.  I believe it is more appropriate to think of the fellowship of all believers as Christ's church.  I don't feel bound by loyalty to the Pope anymore.  The Pope has failed me.  He has failed his calling to lead his flock.  But his failure does not negate the value of the church. I just have to reassess how I define "church". 

But there's a much bigger obstacle to my "leaving" Catholicism.  Ironically, it's an obstacle many converts to Catholicism struggle with before finally embracing the faith: the Eucharist.  But there is no denying Christ's words in the 6th chapter of the gospel of John, verses 35-66.  I'm finding myself on a mission of interpretation. Because let's be honest.  If I were to not believe in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, then I would see no reason to remain a Catholic.  

The current scandal is merely forcing the issue because I'm having a hard time believing in anything - having faith in anything - coming from the same hierarchy that has shown itself to be completely unconcerned with its mission and calling.  If they don't take their position seriously, how can we, the laity? 

The Goal of Faith

"Although you have not seen Him you love him; even though you do not see Him now yet you believe in Him, you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, as you attain the goal of faith, the salvation of your souls."  1 Peter 1:8-9

"The goal of faith: the salvation of your souls." What would happen to my soul if I didn't have faith?  Well, what kind of life would I lead?  Where would I find the hope, peace, joy, and strength to overcome my tendencies to sabotage doing good?  Whom would I worship, follow, glorify?  I cannot deny my Maker.  And I no longer question WHO God is, and what He's done for me.

If God is just the god of eastern religions or neopagan religions or modern quasi-religions, then He is only one among many, or an abstract concept like gravity.  There is no hope in that.  I'm still on my own to find my way to a life of purpose and meaning. 

If God is like the God of the Qu'ran, He's more like a political leader than a loving Father.  We already saw this in the Old Testament, and Jesus clarified where this view is incomplete.  I've often wondered why Muhammad seems to have reinvented the wheel of Judaism. 

I mean no disrespect, but from an outsider, there are very few differences between the lifestyle and moral expectations of Jews and Muslims.  There are dietary restrictions.  There are dress considerations.  There is mandatory male circumcision.  There are clearly defined gender roles. There is a focus on marriage and family life for every individual.  There are expectations to fast, pray, tithe.  To an outsider, it seems like the advent of Islam was a cultural reaction to Judaism. 

I am the first to admit that I know next to nothing about the history of the region where Islam was born, but I do know that Judaism (and Christianity, for that matter) was known to the early Muslims.  If they took issue with polytheism, they could've become Jewish.  If they took issue with the incarnation and divinity of Jesus, they could've become Jewish.  But instead, they created what seems to me to be a parallel religion.  I don't deny that Muhammad probably felt nudged by God to do something, to improve the quality of life for the people of the time and region.  But I do not believe God wanted more of the same. 

(If you're wondering why I felt the need to get into a mini comparison between Judaism and Islam here, it's because I discerned conversion to both of these faiths at some point along my journey.  So I am not judging either from a disinterested philosophical point of view, but rather explaining my thought process as to why I did not ultimately end up Muslim nor Jewish.)

But the God of Jesus - the God: Jesus - He brings hope.  Only He brings hope.  The Gospel says that we are loved by our Maker.  We are not alone on our journey.  We are good enough just as we are.  All He asks of us is to repent and believe.  Ignore the naysayers.  Put our mistakes behind us.  Turn to Him.  Follow Him.  

It sounds too good to be true for many.  An approachable God sounds downright blasphemous to some.  The idea that we are not the center of the universe is too difficult for a lot of people to admit.  So they stay in denial, where it feels familiar, comfortable, even "safe".  But it's a perilous false sense of safety.  Denying the truth doesn't make it go away.  The first step of every recovery program is to step out of denial.  Take that risk to meet the unknown.  Make yourself vulnerable to God's will.  Trust God.  

It's the only way to life.  It's the only way to truth.  It's the only way.  That's' why Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father but through me"  (John 14:6).  They may come close, but not quite into God's loving embrace.  They may think they've arrived when all they have is a distant wave from God.  He is beckoning you to come closer.  Only Jesus can take you there.

And this is the goal of our faith in Jesus: that we may be saved by grace, through faith (Ephesians 2:8).  Saved from a life of servitude.  Saved from a life of hopelessness.  Saved from our own mistakes.  For without the Spirit of God, we are slaves to this world, Satan, and the flesh.  Without the mercy of God, we are here on Earth until our time is up, and then it will have been all for naught. Without Christ living in us, we cannot overcome our frail tendencies of selfishness, self-centeredness, self-consciousness, self-importance.  We cannot remove ourselves from the center of our lives without placing Christ in the center instead.  

And that's what it takes - removing ourselves from the center of our lives, and living for others.  Imagine what the world would be like if everyone lived in service to their fellow sisters and brothers here on Earth.  Imagine the peace and cooperation that would bring!  Imagine the joy and celebration of our diversity!  Imagine ... paradise on Earth!  Because that is God's original design, for us to live in harmony with each other and with Him, forever.  No death, no sickness, no pain, no war, no confusion, no ugliness, no chaos, no fear, no disappointment, no anger, no power struggles, no lies.  But it takes a critical mass of people to make lasting change.  Until we get there, while we are in the minority, we must put on the armor of God (Ephesians 6:11) and resign ourselves to be led by the Spirit of God. 

And to anyone who would quote statistics here, alluding to the fact that there is already a critical mass of Christ-followers in the world, and it is still in shambles, I say look again.  The statistics will tell you religious affiliation and church attendance.  They will not show you the heart of the believer.  Because sadly (and I was one of them for a long time), many accept the label of Christ without welcoming Him into their lives.

We must not look to the left nor to the right lest we lose focus or begin to doubt (see Proverbs 4:27).  I have already experienced life without hope, and I am not tempted to rejoin the empty promises of Satan.  I still struggle.  Daily.  I still doubt.  But I know what I stand for now; I know Whom I serve. I have been gifted the grace of faith.  And I so wish you would join me on the journey!  There's so much truth, goodness, and beauty here!

The M Word

Is modest a new dirty word?  It's one thing to note that a majority of people in our society seem to not care about being modest, but I've noticed lately that it's antithesis is being paraded around as some sort of women's right.  And as a woman, I'm both confused and discouraged by it.  I have no choice but to cling to my faith for the only sound, timeless, guidelines to a life of integrity, because secular society offers nothing of value.

Take this article, for instance. A college student in a performing and media arts class was given feedback from her professor regarding her outfit. The professor apparently noted that the student's shorts were "too short" (granted, a subjective opinion), and that "she was making a 'statement' with the clothes she was wearing" (is this not a given?) 

Aside from common sense telling us that people perceive us the way we present ourselves, I also learned this in the context of a feminist class in college.  That for women in particular, no matter what we do regarding our looks, it will be perceived as a statement.  Our clothes, hairstyle, and makeup or lack thereof.  There is no way for a woman to leave her home and not be judged based on what she's wearing.  This isn't fair, of course, but it is a fact of life.  This professor was pointing out to the student that there was nonverbal communication taking place via her clothing, so that she could take that into consideration when making her final presentation.  The professor wasn't being sexist; she was being honest. 

The student chose not to find gratitude for this reminder.  In fact, she took it as an affront and ended up - I kid you not - stripping to her underwear instead.  In the end, after reading the article, I have no idea what her thesis topic was, but I did inadvertently imagine her standing at the front of the class with nothing but a bra and panties.  Not sure this in any way helped her deliver her message.  Instead, her message seems to be quite different, and quite popular among more recent generations.

The message seems to go something like this: "I can wear whatever I want, with no regard to the fact that it makes a difference in how I am portraying myself, and no one has a right to mention anything about it.  I deserve respect regardless if I am dressed completely inappropriately for the circumstances.  I have rights, you know?"

What's missing in the message is this: "I also have a responsibility to present myself in a way that shows that I respect myself, and that I have done my due diligence not to portray a persona that doesn't command respect from others.  I cannot control how others view me, but at least my conscience tells me that I have done my part to dress appropriately."

Here's another example of students, this time in high school, taking offense at their elders (school administrators) making a judgment call technically outside the official school dress code about visible bra straps not being appropriate.  The dress code also doesn't specify the need to wear pants, but I'm confident any bottom-less student would be promptly sent home as well.  Rather than making a note of it and choosing more appropriate tops in the future, the student complains the she "keep[s] getting pulled out of [her] education" for repeatedly wearing tops that reveal her bra straps. What about the education of her fellow students, who may be distracted by seeing her underclothing or excess skin? Essentially, the message here is that it's not her problem.

What we seem to be dealing with now, and I don't know if it's a generational thing or what, but basically, "let's not take people's rights away by mentioning responsibilities which are supposed to go along with those rights. That's so last century.  Rights and responsibilities are completely unrelated to each other.  They do not overlap."

I will say that this issue most definitely ought to apply to both sexes, and the examples here seem to focus only on females.  While bra straps may not be relevant to men, pants are.  And there is definitely a problem with the whole pants-around-the-knees-with-entire-behind-out phenomenon. I'm sorry, but I don't care where it originated, the point is twofold: 1) if you can't actually walk properly without holding up your pants, you may want to reconsider how you're wearing them; and 2) it's called underwear for a reason - it goes under the clothes you show to the world.

But let's be honest.  Other than the falling-off-pants, men just aren't socially expected to expose their skin.  Quite the opposite tends to be the case.  Men's swim shorts are more like skirts in a lot of cases. Tight pants are discouraged. But when I start seeing armpit hair, I have to say something.  Where are my rights to go out in public and not have to worry about seeing too much of anyone?  Where are my rights to free speech when someone does something I find offensive?  Where are my rights to expecting people to take responsibility for themselves, instead of walking around with the assumption that entitlement is a civil right?

Modesty - there's that forbidden M word - is merely this: not exaggerating how one view's oneself in terms of skills or looks; it's being in the world without looking to draw unnecessary attention to one's person.  It's the opposite of arrogance.

But in a society that sees nothing wrong with arrogance and, as a society, runs from vulnerability at all costs, I guess I can't really expect modesty to be valued on any level. And just like that I'm reminded of why following Christ is countercultural.  It's things like this that remind me that virtues are not accepted universally, and that people value radically different things.  I leave you with this thought from Scripture: "if the blind lead the blind, both will fall into a pit" (Matthew 15:14).

Embracing my Inner Homemaker

Who am I?  My codependent upbringing handed me an identity that I never questioned.  Until now.  I'm an American Catholic wife and mother. But what does that mean to me on a daily basis?  This is what I will attempt to uncover.

To me, "American" means the sky's the limit.  Yes, there are cultural traditions, but I do not feel compelled to be bound by them.  Since the United States is not a monolithic society, there are at least four types (if you will) of cultures that are part and parcel of the history of US culture.  First of all, that of the various Native American tribes, which sadly remains mostly in the names of various places, both natural and man-made, and very little else.  Second, that of the African American slaves, which have had a significant impact on modern-day American culture, starting with music and food, and more recently (relatively speaking), media and sports.  Third, that of the original European settlers, which brought with it the language and religious traditions, as well as various socio-political norms that our country is based on.  Fourth, that of the vast diversity of more recent immigrants from literally around the world.  I cannot possibly fit into a single paragraph the myriad of ways that cultures vastly different from each other have mixed and mingled to form the modern day norms of the United States.  Essentially, though, what resulted is a wide range of "normal", with a strong emphasis on the choices of the individual to pick and choose what resonates with them and run with it. 

"Catholic" literally means "universal", which is actually a lovely segway from national to religious identity.  It's a way of being a Christ-follower, which is what being Catholic means to me; that I aspire to center my life on Christ.  I believe the Catholic Church has the closest interpretation of Jesus's message available to us, and I love many things about it: the authority with which it teaches on matters of faith and morals; the traditions of beautiful art and music; the social outreach it is known for (hospitals and schools in particular).  I also love the way the Church allows me to approach my Lord in a way I was never able to do in any other worship environment (and over the years I've tried plenty).  First and foremost, I am reminded on at least a weekly basis that God loves me so much, that He has come down first in the Incarnation and person of Jesus, and now in the Holy Eucharist.  I can not only "taste and see that the Lord is good" (Psalm 34:8) when I receive Him in Holy Communion, but I can also "keep watch with [Him]" (Matthew 26:40) in Adoration.

I am a wife.  I am not just "a wife", but "the wife of Oscar".  Being a wife is something that by definition ties a person to another, hence we are "one flesh" (Genesis 2:24, 1 Corinthians 6:16).  We are of one mind.  We make plans together, we share our joys and sorrows together, we raise our children together, we offer each other unconditional friendship and companionship.  My #1 go-to person is my husband, and vice-versa.  There is no one I feel closer to than him.  Without a doubt, he is one of the best gifts God has bestowed on me.  So for me to be a wife means to be a life partner to Oscar, with all that this entails.

I am also a mother.  This role, too, is by necessity tied to the specific children God has allowed us to raise for His glory.  And that precisely is my job as a mother - to raise little saints.  To be a saint means to be happy with God forever - who wouldn't want that for one's children, or oneself for that matter?  It's quite the undertaking, motherhood.  I believe it is my job - our job - to educate our children, to protect them, to prepare them for life, to share the gospel with them, to help them reach their potential in any way I can.  I do not buy into the modern-day secular belief that pretty much all of these tasks can be delegated to others. In my mind, doing so leaves the parent with the role of "supervisor", supervising the job that others are doing in regard to their children.  Some situations necessitate such an arrangement, and I certainly don't judge those who opt for it.  But it is not what I am called to.  To me, being a mother *entails* staying home with them and homeschooling them.  I wouldn't feel like a mother without these factors in place. 

But how do I incorporate these four roles into my daily identity?  I believe that God has arranged the circumstances of my life so that I may best attain my potential through homemaking, at least in this current phase of my life.  Previously, He had tasked me with teaching English to immigrants and international visa students (I'm not aware of any of my students having had refugee or asylee status).  And I can never be certain where He will lead me in the future.  But right now - and that's all we can ever truly know and embrace - I am a homemaker.  I am tasked with making a home for my family.  I am painfully aware of the lack of homes being made, well, homes, in many American households.  Rather, the home is taken for granted as merely a place to hang one's hat.  With adages such as "home is where your heart is", it is easy to think that "home" simply means "comfort".  And while I agree that one's home should most definitely be the place members of the household feel most comfortable, it is so much more than that.  It is a place of togetherness, of ongoing learning, of building the smallest segment of society.  It is where proper adult roles are learned, and where daily tasks are taught to the next generation.  It is where a family becomes more than simply a group of people bound together by blood or by law, but rather a place where a family develops its own family culture and becomes a unit unto itself.  None of this happens by happenstance.  Someone must be charged with orchestrating the smooth running of the household, ensuring that these various goals are being actively pursued.

The first few times I heard "creative" job descriptions for stay-at-home moms (such as "domestic engineer" or "household CEO"), I chuckled.  But it wasn't because I thought it was funny; it was because I felt shamed for not getting a paycheck for what I do.  I in no way believed that these creative phrases were meant to value the role of at-home parents.  Rather, I felt it was meant as a way to juxtapose terminology one associates with the "working world" with the domestic sphere, as if to prove the utter silliness of there being any true worth in the work done by homemakers.  And even though I never doubted that raising one's children full-time was, well, a full-time job, I did reserve some of the same aversion to stay-at-home wives without children at home.  Actually, if I'm being honest, I even held a dislike towards stay-at-home moms of older kids who attended school.  What do they do all day? - I would ask. 

And this is the crux of the situation.  I had no concept of what went into "making a home".  I mean, I knew there was childcare for those with kids, and some general cooking and cleaning that goes into keeping house.  But I viewed it from the perspective of a child.  I was given chores as a child.  So I didn't see these same tasks, when done by an adult in charge, as anything more.  Not only that, but I didn't consider the various chores that simply weren't being done altogether, or at least not nearly as frequently as they ought to be in order to keep a truly welcoming and cozy home for the family. 

Now I see so many opportunities in this new role as homemaker.  I already mentioned that my husband and I opted to educate our children at home, so "childcare" remains permanently something that we do on a daily basis. And instead of having to manage the feedback of teachers and coaches from afar, trying to inc

There's cooking, too, but as someone who has struggled with a lack of talent for cooking, I can tell you there's a world of difference between, say, ordering food or buying microwaveable meals, and cooking from scratch or even making one's own [hummus, guacamole, jam, bread...] and harvesting ingredients from one's own garden!  While both extremes feed the family, there is certainly more time, work, effort, and planning that goes into the latter, and generally more money going into the former.  In addition, I'm discovering that meal-planning not only helps to keep a steady variety of food, but it allows for the application of nutritional knowledge to maximize health and vitality, not just satiety. 

And as far as cleaning goes... I now have a vision of what I want my family's surroundings to look like.  Organized, not cluttered.  Bright and airy.  Clean.  So the chores that go into cleaning the house serve a higher purpose now.  I aim for a certain end result.  I haven't yet attained it, but at least I have a vision I'm aiming for.  And there are so many chores that I don't remember doing, which doesn't mean they weren't being done... plus there are maintenance issues that also escaped my notice as a child.  When I first became a mom, I timed myself one week to see just how long it took me to do all the chores I was doing at the time.  My efforts amounted to roughly 8 hours - for the week.  So based on what I was doing in maintaining a two bedroom apartment, I seemed to have confirmed that being a "housewife" with no kids to keep you occupied was not a full-time endeavor.  But now I see that I was simply doing the bare minimum.  To truly embrace the role of homemaker, there is always something that can be improved upon, that will keep one busy all week long. 

I admit it - in a sense, I am trying to harness my own version of a June Cleaver.  I want the feel of something of eras gone by in my home.  Of course, I know better than to apply a blanket statement to the effect of "good old days", because I know for everything I wish was still the same as "back then" (and when exactly, that varies), there are things I'm grateful we have moved past.  But the American in me gives me the freedom to pick and choose what resonates with me from various eras, and those are the things I'm hoping to embrace in my home.

I am learning to make our house a home.  I am learning to be a homemaker.  For the sake of my children and husband, but also for my own sake of feeling like my own home is a microcosm of society, I am embracing the role of homemaker.  Not some lofty-sounding domestic engineer or CEO of my family - these roles imply professionalism that seems too distant and cold for my taste.  But simply - home-maker, maker-of-a-home.  What can be more important than making a home for my family, so that they have a literal home base to which they can return from their adventures into the world, a home base where they learn how to treat other people, a home base that serves as a domestic church.  This last one is a new concept for me as well, but I'll save that for another time.

Recovering from Codependency

Over the past year, I have focused on self-improvement.  The way this has manifested itself is through spiritual direction as well as counseling.  I remember sitting in the Confessional about this time last year, hearing myself say to the priest that I'm not sure my recurring issues need a spiritual director or a counselor.  The Lord heard me and gave me the answer: I need both!

Through my spiritual direction, I have slowly begun to turn over more and more of my life to the Lord.  I am learning to trust Him and to include Him in all aspects of my life.  I remember when I first started meeting with my spiritual director, Jennifer, how I argued with every suggestion she made as far as making a dedicated daily time for prayer.  I was full of excuses.  I had a new baby and a preschooler at home.  I couldn't be expected to find any time to myself.  And what little time I did have, I wanted to use it to relax.  "Couldn't you look at prayer as this unwinding time for yourself?"  Jennifer asked.  Nope, my go-to response.  When I thought of alone time, I literally meant alone, not even with God.  I wanted to pursue my hobbies, which were reading, watching YouTube videos, or otherwise researching homeschooling, sometimes among other things. I couldn't share this precious time with my Maker.  But I dutifully went through the prepared questions Jennifer would give me at each of our meetings, trying to spend about an hour on them once or twice a week.  I still don't spend daily time in this sort of long, dedicated prayer.  But I have since reframed how I view prayer.  Turns out I can and I do pray throughout the day in a variety of ways, and being conscious of this slowly opened up a bit more time here and there.  My baby growing into a toddler also has helped, and I expect it to only get better!

Through my counseling sessions, I've discovered that my issues have a name: codependency.  Even though I am not an addict in the typical fashion, nor am I married to one, nor were my parents, I nonetheless exhibit classical codependency thought processes and behaviors.  My "drug" of choice?  As it turns out - my mother's approval.  Both she and my dad are adult children of alcoholics, which apparently means that they grew up with a dysfunctional view of the world and then passed it on to me.  They tried so hard to make up for the issues in their families of origin, yet they were unable to realize how overcompensating for one problem led to another.  I'm sure my personality has a lot to do with how I internalized my upbringing.  After all, my siblings have very different attitudes towards life than I do.  My counselor, Dr. Brian, noted right off the bat that since I mentioned my faith, we could incorporate my Christianity into our discussions, which has been a great blessing.  In the last month or so, I finally realized how being able to include God in my counseling has led me to see His hand in my life, all of it, not just the compartment I labeled as "spirituality". 

I have been able to shed some of the guilt I carried for wanting that alone time.  I no longer think of it as either-or between my "research for fun" and my "prayer time".  I have different types of prayer that I engage in throughout the day, and only one of them requires an extended period of silence and light.  I say light, because over the summer I started praying the Rosary every night right before bed.  It is quiet, but I can pray in the dark.  I don't need to reference anything anymore, since all I need to pray the Rosary I've committed to memory now.  Praying consistently every day for five months will do that.  I try at least once a week to spend time with my Ignatian Daily Retreat book and prayer journal, reading Scripture, pondering the questions and comments, and praying from the heart without the constraints of the clock ticking.  I wish I could do this more frequently, but I don't worry about it right now.  As my youngest gets older, I will have more time.  For now, I give the Lord what I have.

And what I have is a new understanding of what my issues are, where they originated, and how to proceed.  I have started attending Celebrate Recovery meetings that just so happened to have started at my church about a month before I joined.  I am bringing to the altar my history, my confusion, my pain, my trials and errors, my hopes and disappointments, my guilt, my efforts gone awry, and I'm turning them over the Lord.  I am looking to the future.  I am trying to reinvent myself for the first time.  Apparently, growing up with codependency has robbed me of the ability to be authentic with myself.  I assumed I knew who I was based on what I was told I was.  No one ever asked me who I was or who I wanted to be.  Now I am making these decisions and it is freeing.  Scary, but freeing.

One of my hangups is that I have an internal voice that is constantly asking me what my mom would think about any given decision I'm making.  It's like it's playing on auto-replay, whether I want it there or not.  I assume that a decision not in perfect agreement with my mother is automatically the wrong decision.  I have allowed myself to be handicapped in my decision-making abilities.  I freeze when pressed for time and having to make a decision, especially a big one, but even small ones like where we should go to eat give me trouble at times. 

Another hangup of mine is that I engage in wishful thinking.  If only my mom could see things from my point of view, then she'd be able to relate better to me and we'd have a better relationship.  If only she would love me unconditionally rather than imply that I am only worthy to be her daughter if I do as she would do.  If only my mom didn't get offended at my attempts to assert myself, then I could assert myself more and live a life of freedom.  Bullocks.  Dr. Brian has helped me to understand that my mother's happiness is not my responsibility.  I actually still get an uneasy feeling typing this.  It feels as though I'm saying that I don't care if she's happy or not.  But that isn't the point at all.  The point is that every one of us chooses to be happy or not, regardless of the circumstances.  Codependents like me and my mom often choose to be happy only as a reaction to something in our environment.  This is not healthy.  I can be happy even if my mom doesn't approve of my choices.  I can be happy even if she gets upset that I disregarded her advice.  I am not obligated to take her advice.  I wish (there's that wishful thinking again), I wish I could ask for her advice, hear her out, and then make my own decision and have her be happy either way.  Instead, what ends up happening if I don't take her advice is that she stops giving it.  As in, she refuses to give further advice in the future because she thinks the point of giving advice is that it ought to be followed. 

Finally, a hangup of mine that was probably the crux of the situation that allowed me to seek out both spiritual direction and counseling is this: I struggle with the first commandment.  I don't make golden calves to worship, but I do worry much more about what my mom thinks than what God thinks.  In this way, I have long idolized my mother, thinking that I was honoring her per the fourth commandment.  I am currently trying to iron out the details of what it means for an adult daughter to honor her parents.  As it turns out, it does not mean obedience anymore.  It does not mean taking all of my parents' advice.  It does not mean doing whatever they want, whether I want to do it or not.  It does not mean trying to make them happy.  This last one is going to be difficult to overcome.  I can't make my mother happy, and yet I still need/want to try.  I think that's called loving her. 

It's sad that I don't really know what it means to love my parents.  Or siblings.  I don't struggle with loving my husband or children.  I don't have any anxiety in those relationships.  I am able to be authentic and vulnerable there.  But when it comes to my family of origin, I get all confused.  Dr. Brian introduced me to a fantastic phrase that pretty much sums up the story of my upbringing:  the undifferentiated family ego-mass.  He got the phrase from a wonderful book I recently read per his recommendation. Another term comes to mind that I've long known but never applied to my family before: groupthink. 

One of the reasons I struggled with my identity as an adult is because the identity I was spoon-fed growing up didn't match what I felt on the inside.  I was told that I was a Scorpio, Polish, "smart, pretty, and polite".  These were treated as givens.  Now that my faith tells me astrology is not where my trust must lie, I'm having to rethink "my astrological sign's characteristics" and just think about what makes me unique.  Being smart, pretty, and polite were handed to me without explaining what I did or could do to maintain or lose them.  When times and cultures shifted, the old paradigms didn't fit and I couldn't understand what happened.  How come I wasn't considered these things by everyone, if they were a given?

Being Polish gave me the most trouble because I cannot deny being born in Poland to two Polish parents.  I even speak Polish, for crying out loud, so of course I'm Polish, right?  Except that I now live in the United States.  I married a non-Pole.  And while I speak Polish, it's certainly not at an educated adult level, so I am uncomfortable in Polish settings.  I lack a lot of cultural knowledge because I wasn't exposed to Polish culture outside the home, and I didn't have Polish peers growing up.  I'm Polish mostly in name.  My experience is not the same as my mom's, who didn't migrate to the US until she was 30.  And it's certainly not the same as my relatives who still live in Poland.  I'm "Polish, but..."  In other words, I'm Polish-American.  But I grew up looking down on this phrase because my family associated it with Americans of Polish heritage, people who didn't know the language and probably never set foot on Polish soil.  They weren't "Polish enough" to be called Polish.  How could I associate myself with them?  I clung to my Polishness so hard, that I changed my last name to my mom's because it was more Polish-sounding than my dad's.  I refused to check "White" on forms and would write in "Polish".  (White, to me, meant Protestant Anglo-Saxon.) With great pride I announced that we were raising our children multilingual, fully expecting to pass on our native languages (my husband's is Spanish) to our kids without much effort.  I panicked when this last bit started to become a challenge.  At three years old, our daughter already prefers English, and after some reflection, we had to admit that it's because... so do we!  We also prefer English!  I think in English.  I do math in English.  I speak to God in English usually.  I prefer to read in English.  I prefer to watch videos in English. I only find the Bible meaningful in English.

There is a very limited segment of the world that I like in Polish.  Namely, those things that I associate with my childhood in Poland.  I love Polish Christmas carols and other religious (and patriotic) songs.  But there are also plenty of English songs that move me.  I am moved to tears by a select few Polish poems, but again, English poetry also has that affect on me.  There are a handful of Polish prayers that I learned as a child that I easily recite (I pray my Rosary bilingually), but I don't have anything against the English versions.  I clung to these few things and finally realized they weren't enough to build a life around.  I felt like I was betraying my family by admitting - even to myself - that I was actually American, not Polish.  Ok, Polish-American, but that's the best I could do.  Even though I was born in Poland and started school there and even though I speak and read Polish, I am still more appropriately grouped in the category of "Polish-American" than "Polish" (or Polonia na emigracji).  I'm not merely living abroad.  I have made my home here.  For better or for worse, this is who I am.  I felt like I couldn't be both, American and a member of my family, but with my siblings, who were born here and don't have these same qualms about who they are, I was able to realize that 1) I am still in the family, and 2) their approval is not what makes or breaks me.

So yes, I have been addicted - to approval by my mom.  It has been paralyzing at times.  And you know what?  It's not her fault!  I have blamed her in the past - in classically codependent fashion - but it is not her fault.  She raised me based on what she knew.  And she instilled a lot of good in me.  The rest is now up to me.  I can choose to keep letting her micromanage me, because it's what she knows and is comfortable with, or I can choose to set boundaries and assert myself and forge a new beginning in our relationship.  No more conditionals.  No more, if only.  No more.  I am who I am, and she is who she is, and that's all I can ask from God, who created both of us.

Why be Catholic if even atheists can go to heaven?

As eye-opening as my spiritual journey has been over the years, spending time immersed in other traditions, either merely intellectually or even religiously, one drawback has been that it's been difficult to shed some non-Catholic notions that have become ingrained in me over the years.  One of the influences that I'm having to regularly put aside is that of evangelical Protestant Christianity.

As a Catholic Christian, I do not share evangelical Christians' understanding of salvation.  I'm not just talking about the fact that Catholics often get scolded for including works along with faith as necessary for salvation.  (James 2:14-17: "What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him?  If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well,” but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it? So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.") 

Both our current Pope Francis, and his predecessor Pope Emeritus Benedict, have gone on record as stating that not only do we as Catholics believe that one does not need to be a Catholic to be saved, but that even theists of other religious traditions and atheists can be saved... if they do good works.  So it seems that works even without faith can save?!  This doesn't seem to be found in the Bible, but luckily I am Catholic, so I don't need to be my own Pope and interpret Scriptures for myself.  Instead, I have the magisterium of the Church, with highly learned Scripture scholars who enlighten me. What this means that the authority for my faith comes from both the Bible and the Tradition (note the capital "t") of the Church. 

At any rate, the questions that is begging to be asked if we accept that 1) Catholic Christianity does hold the fullness of truth as much as that is possible this side of heaven, yet 2) one does not need to be Catholic or even Christian or even a theist in order to be saved and go to heaven after death, then.... what is the point of adhering to Catholicism/Christianity/faith of any kind?

This question is already found in the New Testament, where it is worded like this: "Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope." (1 Peter 3:15).  What's different about me as a Christian than when I was not a believer? Why am I choosing to follow Jesus, if I believe that I could still get into heaven without following Him?

Well, for starters, following Jesus doesn't mean belonging to a specific organized religion.  I agree with what Mahatma Ghandi once said, "I like your Christ.  I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."  Ouch.  I had read that he considered converting to Christianity but ultimately decided against it because of what he says in the above quote.  Following Christ is about a lifestyle, virtues, morals, ethics, standards of holiness, not about a label or membership in a place of worship.  Therefore, there are lots of people who truly follow the example of Jesus - knowingly or not - and therefore fulfill the works part of salvation.  As for the faith... we believe God Almighty is beyond the limits of time and space, right?  So in the moment of death, something we think of as a split-second event, God actually has plenty of "time" to confront the dying soul and offer - for the first time or yet again - the grace of faith.  

That's another reason that the recent popes' statements resonate with me.  After my daughter was born, extended postpartum anxiety and depression lead to my loss of faith.  For over two years I actively tried to regain my faith.  I continued to attend church, read, and pray.  I finally attended a spiritual retreat as a last ditch effort to get my faith back.  This slowly started me back towards God again, but I could not yet say that I believed.  And then, one day, right before I found out I was pregnant with my son, I suddenly believed again.  I felt it.  I felt at home at church again.  I could again sense God's presence.  It was not through anything that I did.  The return of my faith was God's gift to me - grace.  So if I couldn't force myself to believe, how can God who made me, hold it against me?  Faith is a gift from God, not something you can just decide to have.  Therefore, it does not make sense to say that faith in Jesus Christ is our ticket to heaven, because this presumes that we can simply make up our minds to believe something, when in fact we cannot.

The other point is that following Jesus is not merely about "getting into heaven" but about preparing ourselves - and by extension others who may see our lives and be inspired by them - to be acceptable to stand in God's presence.  Heaven is not some exclusive country club that only the select few can "get into".  Heaven is God's abode, it's the merging of our selves with Godself, it's standing face to face with our Creator.  Indeed, none of us are holy enough to merit such an encounter, much less an eternity in the afterlife with God.  For this reason I believe that Jesus's sacrifice on the cross was "the key" to our salvation.  

Figuratively, I explain to my preschooler that Jesus came into the world to find the key to unlock heaven, so that after His resurrection, He was able to do just that, and now, precisely thanks to Him, we are eligible to even dream of going to heaven after we die.  Before Jesus, heaven was simply off-limits.

I mentioned that faith is a grace from God.  Faith is a virtue, so all of the virtues are gifts from God.  Therefore, none of our works are our own, and therefore we have no reason to boast.  Indeed, any good deed we do is made possibly by God first putting that ability, opportunity, and inspiration into us in the first place.  So we do not "earn" our way to heaven because we do nothing outside of God's grace.  This is why doing good works is not at all contrary to the fact that Jesus died for my sins.  My good works are further graces from God that help me lead a happy life and prepare me for eternity with God.

One final note on good works.  I recently read an excellent book, "Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus" by Nabeel Quereshi. In it, I learned that the Muslim understanding of what leads souls to heaven is a balancing scale of sorts that compares one's good deeds with one's bad deeds, and that so long as the good deeds outweigh the bad, the person is granted access to heaven.  I disagree wholeheartedly with this, because this would mean heaven is simply a place where mediocre people mingle.  I do not see how Almighty God would allow into His holy presence people who just barely did more good than bad.  So that is not the view of good works that I am talking about here.  Again, our good works are merely us putting ourselves at the disposal of the Holy Spirit to work in us and through us.  They are not evidence of our own intrinsic goodness.

Now, to finally answer the question posed at the start of this reflection.  What is the reason for my hope?  Why am I a practicing Catholic/believing Christian?  Because I have experienced life without faith, and it was dreary.  I have lived without hope and it was literally depressing.  There was no meaning in my life when I couldn't get a firm grasp on God's love for me.  With faith - and by that I mean, with the belief that God loves me unconditionally, to the point of incarnating and dying on the cross so that my sins could be removed from my soul and my seat at the "supper of the lamb" could be secured - my life has meaning.  

So I believe in the gospel of Jesus Christ because it gives my life meaning.  Furthermore, Catholic understanding and practice of Christianity gives me great joy.  It is difficult at times, to be sure.  But to know that I am living for something greater than myself is incredibly fulfilling.  There is no greater peace than to know I am working towards the best version of myself thanks to the instructions available to me through Christ's holy church.  

In other words, I am Catholic not because I believe it will guarantee me entry into heaven.  I am Catholic because it makes this life better, and because it is preparing me for that eventuality of spending eternity with my Lord.

Perhaps this is why Jesus said, "Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand" (Matthew 3:2).  God's kingdom isn't in some far-off land in the distant future!  God is ever-present, and I can begin to partake in it here and now!  My Catholic faith is what helps me to learn how to do that.  How to love God, how to follow Jesus, how to do God's will.  Getting into heaven is only a small fraction of what it means to be saved.  To be saved from our sins is to start living for God right away.  To die to self, to detach from superficial trappings of the material world, and to see beyond the mundane.  

Being a Catholic Christian gives me great joy and peace!  I'm thrilled that God smiled upon me and brought me back to His fold - not once but twice!  Now, what I do with this grace is indeed not to keep it bottled up for myself, but it also doesn't mean trying to make others follow the path that's been paved for me.  God is present everywhere, including in religions that don't have the gospel.  There is that of God in all of His creation - it's His world and universe, after all!  To think that a person cannot come to know and love God because she belongs to the wrong religion is small-minded and not what Jesus taught.  We read in 2 Corinthians 5:15 that Jesus "indeed died for all, so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised."  

And it is possible to live for Jesus without even realizing that's what you're doing.  If we believe Jesus is God, and God is the source of everything, then living for Jesus means dying to self and constantly seeking God's face.  That ongoing search and struggle, whether it is rewarded with the grace of Christian faith or not, is what I believe it is all about.  

But I'm no Scripture scholar ;)  That's why I'm thrilled to know that those who are, those who have been tasked by God to lead His flock here on Earth (Pope Francis and Pope Emeritus Benedict) agree.  

My hope for others, for those who do not have a personal relationship with Jesus, is that they also find peace and joy in this life, meaning and means of preparing for the next life, and may their good works be evidence of their desire to know and love God.  God will reward each one of us uniquely. I think if more Christians spent more time on themselves, working out their own holiness, they'd be better prepared to enter heaven than focusing on trying to get others to "catch up" with them.  There's plenty to do with my own life.  

Thank you Jesus for this peace.  Amen.