Reengaging with Christ

What kept me tethered to the Catholic tradition (and what attracted me to the Eastern Orthodox tradition) was the beauty of the liturgy that helped me feel into the transcendence of God.  Yet if I'm being brutally honest, that transcendence did not really translate to a love of Christ.  I know it was meant to, but it didn't.  Jesus was portrayed as so sad and gloomy in all the art, that after a while, it made me question any reference to the joy of the Lord being possible in such places.  Now, I am not a fan of the fellowship-as-church approach to worship services either; I am very much a devotee of balance.  (It's why I took such a long and hard detour into philosophical Daoism, what with the yin and yang and all ;) ) 

But the Jesus of these beautiful churches was enshrined in mystery, essentially unapproachable.  There was talk of God reaching us through the sacraments, and I certainly felt it with the Eucharist for much of the time, but that actually kept me tethered to a specific institution rather than giving me freedom in Christ.  I felt the need to mediate my experience of God through Holy Communion, which required allegiance to a church (building).

I am now in a stage of my life where I realize that these externals, as beautiful as they actually are, fail to deliver on what they promise - at least for me.  That is not to say they cannot spiritually feed others, as they are on different journeys from mine.  But at this point I am slowly ceasing to compare my needs and resonances with those of others, and simply acknowledging what actually rings true for me.

Now as I revisit the idea of the Episcopalian church, I am faced with the tension of giving up some of that beauty - because frankly, how we define what is beautiful is so subjective, and so many Catholic churches were already lacking in what I find beautiful (which is why I lingered in Eastern Orthodoxy and then found an Eastern Rite Catholic church to belong to).  I have to stop expecting any one church, be it a building, institution, or group of people, to check off all the boxes.  Life is not so rigid. God is not so rigid.  My daughter's ED is teaching me that there is no life, no freedom, no joy in black-or-white thinking. 

Instead, I want to know that when I engage with a person I meet at church, I know that person is going to have a favorable understanding of both women's leadership in the church, and the role of sexuality in human experience.  The most beautiful churches I've been to have the most repressive and repressed notions of sexuality.  It's almost like that repression drives their longing for creative expression into art, music, and liturgical adornment.  But the cost is too great.

Not to mention, notice in all these paragraphs, I've mentioned the person of Jesus only a few times, and almost as an aside.  Growing up, the Eucharist WAS Jesus.  That is where I met Him, that is where He lived, and that is the form of God that I was to worship.  With time, I realized this was basically a rehashing of Biblical Judaism that Jesus the historical figure was trying to reform.  Ritual is great until it isn't.  Beauty is wonderful until it hides ugliness.  Transcendence is awe-inspiring until you have to deal with suffering or live your day-to-day life.  Again, balance.

It makes sense now for me to seek out the beauty of say Orthodox liturgy, or a silent retreat, as part of the healthy cycles of feeding all aspects of my psyche.  But it is insufficient to sustain the hunger of my soul.  My soul craves authentic connection, unconditional love, radical freedom.  And yes, that involves our relationships towards other people.  And yes, that means there will be an element of politics in it, because politics is often a major way that we meet our neighbors' needs.  Not candidate-specific or party-affiliated politics, but political issues - yes.  

LGBTQIA+ affirmation is a great litmus test for that.  If I truly think about "what would Jesus do", I imagine Him bypassing the fancy, the pleasant, the comfortable, and yes - the beautiful (Isaiah 53:2: "He didn’t have an impressive form or majesty that we should look at him, no appearance that we should desire him," applied to Jesus during Holy Week).  

And I have to remind myself: before denominational wars (a la "culture wars"), there was just .... the way of Jesus.  That's not to say there's no need for followers to gather together, or for a dedicated building where we may do so.  Just that these are not the point.  They are the fingers pointing at the moon, so to speak.  In other words: I need to fall back in love with Jesus.

And I say that not in the way an Evangelical would.  I don't want that sentiment to be clouded by, again, denominational wars.  I don't want to belong to a church offshoot, so to speak.  I want to belong to God, to Jesus.  

First order of business: let go of any concern I have for what atheists or secularists may think of my desire to reunite with Jesus and reengage with religion.  I am on my own journey.  I have discovered that facts do not lead to truth.  Truth is not dissectible into a series of facts that can be proven or disproven.  So what if I choose to engage with Life and the Universe on spiritual terms, by giving transcendent reality a form and a name?  Is not that Ultimate Source just as present in my subsection of it as it is outside of it?  Then why can't I approach the Unapproachable on my own terms?  Frankly, I think atheists would support that idea.  I'm not being indoctrinated with religion; I am choosing to reenter freely, knowing both the cost and the benefits.

Second order of business: let go of any need to enter into apologetics with other world religions.  I do not need to pick apart Judaism or Islam, for instance, in order to build up a Christian worldview for myself again.  I have learned the limits of human institutions on my sojourn.  I have learned that certainty does not exist, and in fact, it is very dangerous to even suggest that it does.  I now know that everyone is on their own journey, and if they are devout Jews or Muslims (or whatever other faith tradition), and that is feeding their soul, then that is where they need to be.  But that does not negate my need to be elsewhere.

Third order of business: let go of the in-fighting among Christians.  Who's in?  Who's out?  Who's a heretic?  Who has the authority to proclaim the gospel?  Are you serious?  You need "authority" to share good news?  Then it isn't good news, is it?  It's some sort of trick, manipulation, and yes - indoctrination, if you gate-keep who is "allowed" to preach it or interpret it.  I can now appreciate how a faith tradition can tug on one's heartstrings in spite of it being patriarchal and possibly even harmful in some instances.  I am dealing with that myself.  Again, everyone is on their own journey.  Their denomination is what they need right now.  I am in a different place in my journey.

Finally, we have arrived.  If I'm going to reengage with Christianity, I must first and foremost reengage with Christ.  

Idols of Religious People

I have heard Protestants accuse Catholics of idolatry on account of both our veneration of saints and having the pope ("call no man father" and all that).  I've also heard Protestants accused of idolizing the Bible.  This made me wonder.  Can any dogmatically orthodox religious person of faith truly be free from idolatry?  Because I hope it's a given that God is mysterious.  God is not actually a dude in the sky.  God is not a Santa Clause or Genie for adults.  I think people mature in their faith would agree with these statements.  They'd be quicker to say what God is not, than to claim to know what God is.  And I do use the word "what" intentionally here.

If idolatry means placing anyone or anything above God's rightful place in our lives, then I think dogmatic people of faith - Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, and non-Christian alike - can be said to be guilty of idolatry.  Because let's be honest - the Bible was not literally written by God.  Most honest Christians will agree with this.  Most Christians read translations of the Bible, to begin with, not the original, especially since different parts were written in different languages (Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic).  Not only translations, but many read translations of a translation (via Latin).  

That alone is enough to put into question the very likely possibility of taking something out of context.  And if we look around at the myriad opinions among Christians, even among members of the same denominations, it becomes clear that the only useful and truthful way to resource Scripture is through the appeal to a greater source than the mere book.  We reference conscience, do we not?  We tell people to "pray on it" and see where the Holy Spirit guides us.  So to then turn around and say that the Bible has all the answers is a bit disingenuous.  If the Holy Spirit can guide us to all truths by helping us interpret Scripture, then the Holy Spirit can likewise help guide us by interpreting everyday life for us.  You know, through contemplation. 

Now, for the Catholics who would pat themselves on the back that they have a more nuanced approach to the Bible, what with the Magisterium of the Church and all that.  I remember reading once that our very consciences must be "formed".  That to me sounds like a euphemism for "indoctrinated".  If I disagree with an official teaching of the Church, why should the way the Holy Spirit guided me be any less valid than the way the Holy Spirit guided the curia, let's say, or the pope?  Don't even get me started on the newfangled (by comparison to the age of Christianity) doctrine of papal infallibility.  Please.  God speaks equally to each of us.  The only reason to insist that the laity don't know what we're doing is to keep the masses from objecting to the abuses of power by the clergy.  Sorry, not sorry.

I also don't want to miss the opportunity to call out the SSPX traditional Catholics here.  Believe me, when I was in my last ditch effort to try to find a way to still hang on to Catholic faith before my deconstruction, I was desperate for a reverent Mass.  I completely understand the impulse of these folks for something that helps restore awe in God and the mystery of the beautiful liturgy before it underwent - let's be honest here, a severe Protestantation. But from a Catholic point of view, the SSPXers have essentially made the Latin Mass their idol.  They have equated this particular set of rituals, liturgy, and traditions into their God.  They cannot find it in themselves to recognize God in the post-Vatican 2 Catholic Mass, so how can they possibly see God in their unbeliever neighbor, or the modern day "Samaritan" in the next cubicle?

If we truly want to hold no thing above God, we must acquiesce that there are no one-size-fits-all, ready made answers in religion.  The church is a guide.  The bible is a guide.  They are resources.  Our faith, our spirituality, must be wholly our own.  We cannot simply regurgitate what we hear at the pulpit or read in our favorite version/translation of the Bible and claim to have a relationship with God.  Imagine if we treated our spouses this way.

Imagine relying on the social media posts of those who tagged your spouse in various images and articles, etc.  Instead of going straight to the source, you ask around to find out what your spouse really wants - from you, your relationship, life in general.  Or imagine reading some college papers or even journal entries they've written in the past, and using those to try to figure out their character.  Simply put, you will not get to know your spouse this way.  You have to be vulnerable and curious.  And you have to put in the time.  Just be with each other.  Enjoy one another's company.  Don't fear making mistakes.  

In the same way, we need to approach God.  If God is as powerful as Christians like to say God is, then God can make Godself known to us directly.  We can have a Moses moment, an Abraham moment, an Adam and Eve moment.  We can have our own Annunciation like Mary.  We can have our own transfiguration like Jesus.  In fact, Jesus actually said that he wants us to be more like him.  He never once said, "bow down before me and worship".  That came later, with ritual and Christian rock.  He said things like, "watch me, walk with me, imitate me".  

Most of the time, though, we're too busy trying to look Christian enough to fellow Christians to actually do his bidding.  Church is not a place for reflection, but for fellowship, where we don't have to be uncomfortably alone with our own thoughts.  Or our psychological wellbeing is usurped by a compulsion to treat every human trait that doesn't reach perfections (so, most of them) as a sin in need of constant confession.  We're so busy beating ourselves up for our faults, that we never stop focusing on ourselves long enough to actually "do unto others as you would have them do unto you".  

The most important verse in the Bible, if you ask me, is this: "Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10).  Whatever else we're doing, if we're not doing that, then we have an idol in our lives that parades around as if it were God. 

Birthright Catholicism Reconstruction

Two and a half months ago, it dawned on my husband and me that our 12yo daughter was struggling with restrictive eating.  Long story short, this experience has tested me as a mother like nothing else has.  I have been unable to use my neurodivergence as an excuse for opting out of this.  If I didn't help my daughter, she would not be helped.  It was as simple as that.  It was a lot to carry, and in spite of the incredible help from ChatGPT (yes, I'm unapologetic about this resource in my tool box) and the fact that my husband can work while I can stay home and homeschool my daughter (Let the record show that she attended a private all girls' school for one term, where she developed the eating disorder.), it was still a lot.  Like I said, long story short, because this is not a post about parenting a child with an eating disorder.  That may come later.  This is a post about a mental crisis that brought me to the edge of a nervous breakdown.

I literally looked up the definition of a nervous breakdown to see if that was what I was experiencing.  It would seem that this would be too strong of an assessment, but why push my luck, right?  It didn't take me long to reflect on the fact that, in the past, when I was faced with a crisis, I felt many things, but never hopelessness or despair.  Now, I wasn't sure I could make it to the other side of the current crisis. The only difference?  In the past, I had a faith world view to hold me up.

So of course I did what anyone accustomed to consulting with ChatGPT does - I asked it to put on the role of contemplative Catholic spiritual director in its response.  I know that it adjusts its tone and responses to whatever I put in.  I've had nearly a year of practice with that.  Now, what I wanted more than anything was to have religious faith again.  Only I couldn't do it.  I couldn't unsee all the deconstruction videos I've watched these past few years that proved to me that the God of the Bible is not one I'm interested in praying to.  

I started thinking about archetypes.  I thought (and not for the first time, mind you, but the first time since having deconverted and deconstructed enough to have some better perspective) that the point of religion need not be factual or intellectual.  Why couldn't I retain my birthright Catholicism as a resource?  Why did it have to be all or nothing - orthodoxy or secularism?  If my daughter's illness has shown me anything, it's the danger of extremist thinking. I've recognized my thought patterns in a lot of her anxieties, and it scared me.  How was I going to talk her down from the proverbial edge if I couldn't let go of my own obsessive thoughts and intrusive compulsions?

How do I reengage with Catholicism on my own terms?  This was what I wanted ChatGPT to help me with.  As I read over the suggestions, of course I've heard it all before.  Especially from my husband, who has never worried much about external validation.  But I was never able to really hear it before. But desperate times call for desperate measures.  And at this point, I was desperate for consolation and hope.  I needed to feel held through this.  I needed to know it was in the hands of a loving Creator who had insights I wasn't yet privvy to.

Contrary to some of the absurd notions of an omnipotent God being the only one "worthy of worship", I actually don't believe God is all-powerful, nor do I believe that makes God any less Divine.  Frankly, God has never actually been "all-powerful".  How many times have I heard the answer to the question, "why does God allow X or Y to happen", and that answer said, "humanity's free will"?  Therefore, God is not free, so that we may be.  I'm going to save the discussion of human free will for another day, because it's irrelevant here.  My only point is that I don't care if God is omnipotent.  I only care that God be omnibenevolent and omniscient.  

And before we get too far, is such a God worthy of worship?  Well, let's pause on the word "worship" for a minute. If by worship we mean "reverence and adoration", then what does omnipotence have to do with it?  I revere and adore nature and my family, and they aren't all-powerful.  But if by "worship" we mean "grovel", which - let's be honest, a lot of Christian and Biblical prayer is just that - then I'll pass.  Groveling at the feet of God neither makes me feel closer or more loved by God, nor is it something I can imagine God even desiring.  Because if God did desire groveling, then God wouldn't be omnibenevolent but rather narcissistic. 

Then I thought about all the indigenous spiritualities and how people have related to the Divine in those world views.  Their gods and goddesses weren't all-powerful, either.  Powerful, yes, but just powerful enough.  More importantly, they were accessible.  Relatable.  In a word - helpful.  The image of an all-powerful war-lord whose good graces I get to stay in so long as I hold to the right belief is utter nonsense.  On that, I categorically agree with the influencers who have shared their deconstruction journeys online.  

But I've never actually believed in such a God.  Really, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I have to change very little about what I believe or value in order to reengage with Catholicism as a spiritual practice.  The only thing I have to do is let go of my reliance on external validation, my obsession with "getting it right" (aka religious OCD or scrupulosity) in the form of orthodoxy.  I can do all the same things I did before, believe the same way I've always believed, but the only difference is that I no longer have to feel guilty for any of it!  

And so my reconstruction journey commences.  I won't say "reconversion" because I am not being convinced of anything about the faith.  I believe and disbelieve all the same aspects of the faith, for the most part.  The main change is in the role of the Catholic church in my life: that of advisor, and not dictator.  I no longer accept dogma of any kind.  I'm happy to reference what the church teaches, but I do not exchange it for my own conscience.  Most things in life are too nuanced to have definitive answers. 

How I pray for my daughter to come to this same conclusion in her recovery from restrictive eating and related obsessions and compulsions.  How I pray for her panic attacks to cease and that she find something - or someone - to put her trust in so the fears gripping her may loosen.  And now, having decided to reengage with the Catholicism of my upbringing, I may have the vocabulary and the models needed to do just that myself.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding."  These words are gold, because I don't understand this illness not one iota.  It's completely absurd, unreasonable, and infuriating.  There is nothing for me to do but place it at the feet of God and trust that God will know what to do.

Reconstruction Threshold

I have been away from the church for a year and a half now.  In that time, I've attended church a handful of times, but otherwise did not engage in anything resembling "faith-based living".  I've delved deeper into Daoism, meditation (I'm on a 100+ day streak of daily meditating!), and more recently my indigenous Pagan roots.

It occurred to me that as a European, my ancestors also had an indigenous spirituality that was stolen from us by the Christian church when it colonized us, so to speak, about a thousand years ago.  Various aspects of that ancient faith were adopted and "baptised" by the church and handed down as Catholic traditions, while a few others stayed on as mere myth in cultural fables.  But since I do not live in the country of my birth, I have no way of tapping into what seems to be a fringe reigniting of our ancient faith, rodziwiara. 

As I dabbled in "alternative spirituality" via the yoga center I attend for qigong and yoga, I was introduced to a book that was presented as a "bible" of sorts to women's spirituality.  After hearing a podcast episode on it from the "Breaking Down Patriarchy" podcast, I finally decided to get it.  Reading it was tough.  It's all about archetypes, which to me equals "fiction", and I've never been much of a fan of reading fiction.  But since I made the investment, I pressed on reading it.  I'm still in the thick of it, but slowly the ideas started seeping into my psyche.  

The book - Women Who Run with The Wolves - goes through various stories passed down the generations in various cultures and explains the psychological archetypes in them.  One in particular grabbed my attention: Baba Jaga!  Here's a "witch" I grew up reading about and strangely being attracted to (I had a toy Baba Jaga as a child, and I still have a bigger one, hanging on a broom, in my "altar area").  Turns out she was a Slavic Goddess that got deformed by Christianity to represent all things undesirable, and in the process lost her power.

At any rate, point being that I was slowly opened up to how archetypes work.  In the mean time, I started utilizing ChatGPT very regularly for various inner working type projects, and I started plugging in my dreams for analysis.  Again, I was being gifted archetypal explanations and I finally started making the connection - truth does not need to be fact!

Slowly, I started to wonder how one might reinterpret Christian symbolism through the lens of archetypes.  Was it even possible for someone like me, with such rigid black-or-white thinking, to "do religion" in a way that doesn't steal my agency, authenticity, or autonomy?

Soon, I received my answer through a crisis that brought me to my knees.

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.

Two Dreams and Facing the Truth

I am trying to pay more attention to my dreams as I begin to discern where Jesus is leading me. 

The first dream, I was in our church's chapel.  There was a children's rosary going on, they called it the alphabet rosary, and there were pastel-colored tokens all over that supposedly were supposed to help the kids understand the mysteries.  At the altar was the monstrance, and behind it was a young man (?) and several others next to him.  The youth directly behind the monstrance was wearing a wide, red blindfold.  I walked up to him and untied the blindfold.

Red is my favorite color, but also the color of the Holy Spirit and love.  The fact that I untied it leads me to believe that I have been blind to Jesus's true presence permeating everything everywhere, and not being held hostage in the tabernacles of Catholic churches.  Also, the sense of clutter all around in an attempt to "help" the kids pray the rosary also strikes me as the various additions and elaborations the Catholic church has laid on top of Scriptures, presumably in an effort to clarify and explain the Word of God to the faithful.

The second dream, there was some sort of retreat or even going on.  Lots of movement.  People gathering for pictures, eating at the table, etc.  There were three different people in the dream who were moving around on their hands because their legs were missing.  One was a white lady, there was an Asian young man who presumably was the white lady's son, and later a Black man, that I though was a comedian.  The Black man was climbing a rope ladder. 

Also, I peaked into a church to see a couple getting married.  The lady was wearing a dirty white gown and what looked like a red apron or sash.  They were exchanging vows into microphones.  She was trying to hang up her microphone when she was done, but there wasn't anywhere for her mic to go.  She then lifted her dress inappropriately high as she tried to step over the high threshold, exposing the crotch area of her pantyhose.

The three people walking around without legs seem to be telling me these are people operating with only half of what they need. The different races seem to suggest the universality of the Catholic church.  Scriptures make up only half of the Catholic faith - the other half is Tradition.  It seems that these people represent the Catholic walk in Christ.  They do have the Scriptures, but it only makes up half of their faith, and as a result, their walk is wobbly and slow, and unnecessarily difficult to get around.

Then, the bride stepping over the threshold (with her legs) again highlights the importance of legs in this dream. I couldn't see the legs of the three people, and I didn't want to see the top of the legs (the crotch) of the bride. I didn't want to see her stepping away.  She tried to speak into the mic but when that frustrated her, she stepped out. In the stepping out, she revealed something unseemly. Is she revealing something problematic about herself, or about the situation she's leaving?  Is the act of leaving highlighting the problems I'm realizing about the Catholic church?

It's hard to tell at this point if I want to stay in the Catholic church or if I want to leave, and therefore I don't know if I'm reading into the dreams based on my presuppositions.  Would it be easier if I could resolve whatever this crisis of faith is and remain in the Catholic church?  Yes.  A lot easier.  For one, we wouldn't have to look for another faith community, which would include deciding on a denominational affiliation (nondenominational is still a denomination in my book).  For another thing, we could continue as planned with my daughter's sacramental preparation (and my son's three years later). Also, I wouldn't have to weigh every religious practice I'm used to and determine whether or not it is unbiblical or rather worse, anti-biblical.  Finally, I wouldn't have to worry about convincing my husband to join me on this journey.

But there is something compelling me not to take the easy road this time.  There is something tugging on my heart that tells me there really is ultimate Truth, and that I want to find it.  Up until now, Truth has been evasive and unknowable as far as I can tell.  The idea of non-Christians not being saved really troubles my inner sense of justice.  What of the countless people who died before Jesus was born?  Before His message could reach them?  What about those who have only been exposed to watered down or misguided interpretations of the Gospel, making it completely unappealing?  Can God really blame a person for rejecting what they really never knew?  Because even hearing "of" Jesus doesn't mean they were really presented with the Gospel as it ought to be presented.  And what about those who really were evangelized properly, but their background presents a psychological obstacle to accepting the premises of Christianity?  And how much of this worry is just my inner codependent? 

I believe in a merciful God.  I believe that even at the moment of death (immediately after?) a person can repent. But is this belief what God has revealed in His Word?  Should I really worry so much about other people?  Of course I want their good, that's the basic command of the Christian.  But it has been an impediment to my own faith.  If I admit that without accepting Jesus's free gift on the cross, I am lost and remain in my sin, what about those I love who also haven't accepted Jesus?  And so I shy away from admitting that this is what the Bible calls me to. 

What if I just worry about my side of the street?  "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."  (Joshua 24:15)

Christian in the Catholic church

For various reasons, I am taking it slowly as far as acting on my recent convictions about following Jesus and where He may be calling me.  What strikes me is that this is much different than the two previous times I have left the Catholic church.

The first time I left the version of Catholicism that I grew up with, the cultural Catholic church, if you will.  I spent time in Paganism, Quakerism, Anglicanism (which I thought was an Episopalian church), and visited or pondered Unitarian Universalism and Islam.  I was looking for a good fit, not the truth. 

The second time I left, it was not on purpose.  Postpartum anxiety and depression contributed to my faith leaving me.  I wasn't nourishing it, and so it atrophied. When I tried to regain it, I considered Reform Judaism and spent time "being" a Deist.  I started to try to reason my way back to faith.

This time, while I hesitate to jump to conclusions and announce that I am leaving the Catholic church for the third time, I don't really feel like I'm lost this time.  Rather, I feel like I'm trying to follow Jesus more closely.  This time, I'm trying to discern the truth and follow wherever it may lead.  At first glance, it is looking like it will be outside the Catholic church.  However, I want to first see if I can actually be both, Christian and Catholic.

Don't get me wrong.  I believe there are lots of Catholics who are Christians at heart and have a relationship with Jesus and seek to do God's will.  But what makes it difficult to maintain that spiritual connection in the Catholic church is that fellowship generally includes Catholics who are not really Christians at their core.  There's cafeteria Catholics, much as I once was.  Or cultural Catholics, ditto.  There are those who like the pomp and circumstance of the religious trappings of Catholicism but don't actually buy the Gospel at all (my mom?) There are the Catholics who would likely be a much better fit in a mainline Protestant denomination based on their faith, but they stay Catholic because it's what they're used to.  I guess these would also be Christian Catholics, like those who truly believe all that the Catholic church teaches, without compromising what Jesus taught.

Although... that is where I'm at now - is it actually possible to follow everything the Catholic church teaches AND everything Jesus taught?  And even if it is, I feel like it would be a lot of unnecessary work to do so. Work that takes time and effort away from truly plunging into the Scriptures and God's will.

I want to be cautious about basing my decisions on emotion, but then again, without emotion, there isn't much left of a relationship, is there?  Yes, love is a commitment.  Applied to marriage, it's not good enough to say you fell out of love and divorce your spouse.  But to have a vibrant marriage - any relationship - there must be an element of emotion.  Otherwise, you're left with obligation, blind obedience, going through the motions, and a dry ... faith, if you even want to call it that.

 I didn't receive communion today.  I was at a Polish cathedral and went up with my dad so he could receive.  Everyone still kneels on kneelers at the altar and waits their turn to receive.  In the past, I would've jumped at the chance to "receive the Lord in the proper posture of reverence".  But today, at the last minute, I walked up and then walked away.  I believe that when Jesus talked about the need to "eat His body and drink His blood", He was referring to the Gospel and speaking metaphorically.  I think there's potential in communion bringing out that truth, but when it has crossed over into literal interpretation, it really does straddle idolatry, even if unintentionally.

I wondered these last few years if I'd ever have a devotion to Mary again.  I haven't felt particularly drawn to her since leaving Paganism and feminism, and I feared falling back into those world views if I gave Mary the level of devotion that is encouraged in Catholicism.  Yesterday, I thought of this comparison; I think the Catholic church has done to Mary what the secular West has done to Saint Nicholas.  Both were historical figures, good and kind and noble figures that ought to inspire faith and love of God.  Both have been caricatured into legendary figures that are so far removed from their actual origins that they no longer emit what the actual persons stood for.

There have been layers upon layers of importance placed on Mary, all the while claiming that each additional layer somehow makes Jesus more prominent.  Mary points us to Jesus, the Catholic church says.  Ok, but if I already know where to find Jesus, why stop to ask for directions?

The plan of action right now is as follows.  I will continue to worship at our regular Catholic church with my family for the duration of the school year (until June of next year).  For one, our kids are getting ready to start a Sunday school program based on the Montessori method, and the educator in me really wants them to experience Montessori without having to invest in the materials or private school.  I also have made a commitment to lead the tiny group step study affiliated with our parish's Celebrate Recovery ministry.  Also, I just asked my good spiritual friend if she'd consider mentoring me, and she has taken that to prayer, so I want to wait and see what the Holy Spirit does there. There also may be an introduction of the Green Faith certification at our parish that I have been hoping and pushing for, so if it does come to our parish, I'll want to be involved in that in whatever capacity I am needed. Finally, in the interest of taking it slowly and actually discerning and following God's promptings, I've signed up for year-long weekly meetings designed to walk me through the Ignatian exercises, something I kept starting with my spiritual director and not finishing. 

In the meantime, there are a couple of Catholic teachings that are currently giving me pause that I think it's best to put a hold on.  One is the reception of communion.  Another is any prayers that glorify Mary at the expense of Jesus.  I also would like to explore the possibility of other churches and I hope my husband will humor and join me.  Once a month, our kids don't have Sunday school, so perhaps we can worship at non-Catholic churches on those Sundays.  Finally, I intend to spend a lot of time reading both Catholic and non-Catholic Christian sources, as well as of course meditating on God's presence in expectation of His promptings.

The reason I feel it is important for me to take this current crisis of faith, if you want to call it such, seriously is that I can't point to anything overtly anti-Catholic nor fervently Protestant that would've sparked this desire.  It's almost as if the time has come for me to take my faith to the next level.

Lord Jesus, I pray that You lead my thoughts, words, and actions over the coming months, put people in my life who will straighten out what is crooked, clarify what is muddled, and bring me that much closer to You.  Amen.

Christian Catholic?

I have a history of being a spiritual seeker.  I recently gave a talk at a women's retreat illustrating how God has worked in my life and brought me back to Himself ... twice!  But already going into the retreat, I started to feel a weird sense of vague uncertainty.  At the end of the retreat, and I even noted this on my feedback sheet, I felt like I was left unfulfilled.  I am grateful for my current Catholic parish community for surrounding me with love and helping me come out of my postpartum depression and anxiety and back into an active belief in God's presence.  I am grateful for our pastor, Fr. Eric, who recently was moved to another parish, for his example of holiness and clear leadership by example.  I am grateful for the Celebrate Recovery ministry that had an active part in helping me, together with other pursuits the Lord prepared for me, to come out of my shell and claim my identity as a daughter of the King! I am grateful for the annual women's retreats that have given me that much needed time of being surrounded by constant reminders of His love and mercy.

So what's the problem?  While I know it's a message that the good news has to start with, namely that we are loved by God, I am ready to move past that.  Now what? I have wanted to get involved in the next stage of my faith journey for a time.  This year, I started leading a small group extension of the CR ministry, but with one co-leader and currently only 2 other attendees (after over 3 months of advertising and meeting), and a cancelled Bible study I was supposed to lead, I'm thinking there's something else for me.  Our parish is good about one consistent outreach ministry, feeding the homeless in our nearby city.  But it isn't for everyone's talents, schedules, or current states in life. 

Last year, I wanted to find out why we weren't recycling as a parish. My concerns were met with essential shrugged shoulders and a reference to the budget.  Now that we have a new pastor, whose presence at Mass and elsewhere leaves something to be desired, I do hold out one bit of hope.  Through my connections on staff, he will be approached in a few weeks with the idea of pursuing the Green Faith certification, which my last parish participated in.  If this receives the green light, there will be something of value for me to work on at the parish that I feel will have wider implications than just our campus. 

 Also, I've approached a kindred spirit spiritual friend from our parish requesting mentorship.  She is discerning if this is something the Holy Spirit wants her to agree to.  If she does, I will also have something to cling to that will help me feel like I'm actually following Jesus, not just praising and worshiping Him and basking in His goodness to me, while ignoring the many tragedies that need attention from those who ought to be His hands and feet, as St. Therese would say.

I have been avoiding meeting again with my spiritual director lately, on one hand because her husband had a serious accident that brought back painful memories of my own dad's similar traumatic brain injury, and thus I didn't want to impose my time on her.  But also, having found out on social media that our political leanings are opposed to each other, I've had to wonder if I can truly receive the kind of spiritual advice I'm looking for.  After all, the truth is that following Jesus, actually following Him, IS a political action.  We focus on different aspects of the gospel, however.

As these vague thoughts circled in my mind, I was at first quite confident that it was a matter of ironing out some details because, after all, I've left and returned twice.  I don't expect anyone to take me seriously, myself included, if I just willy-nilly announce my subsequent departure.  But thanks to the boundaries work I've been doing and realizing I need to be direct and honest with myself about my true feelings - about everything - I started to tell others and myself that the only reason I remain a faithful Catholic is the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.

I no longer have a devotion to Mary.  We pray the Rosary as a family, but I don't have any sort of warm and fuzzy feelings about it.  I just use it as a tool to remember the key aspects of the Gospel.  The other major "Catholic thing" that differentiates my denomination from others is the Pope.  And frankly, after the most recent clergy sex abuse scandal and seeing how Pope Francis - of whom I was a fan up until this point - handled the situation, I realized I was fooling myself thinking that there was something inherently holy in obeying spiritual authority blindly.  I started to realize that those who would chastise me for "going against" church teaching were in effect equating the word of the Pope(s) with the Word of God.  Jesus is supposed to be the singular mediator between us and Our Creator.  Jesus is supposed to be the way, the truth, and the life.  Jesus is supposed to be our Good Shephard.  Not Jesus and the Pope.

Interestingly, once I admitted to myself that I simply do not recognize the popes' teachings as authoritative interpretations of Jesus's teachings, doubt begin to creep in regarding Jesus's Real Presence in the Eucharist.  I asked myself, be for real, why do you love the Eucharist?  And here was what I came up with.

As an introvert, I love the silence available at the Adoration Chapel, especially since no one seems to respect the sanctuary before or after Mass as a time of prayer.  Instead, fellowship is encouraged and praised.  But feeling good over being quiet enough with my thoughts to feel the presence of God is not proof of Jesus's Real Presence in the Eucharist.  In fact, on at least one occasion, I recall hesitating about whether I wanted to spend my spiritual reflection time in the Adoration Chapel, or just outside the church, on a bench in a little garden.  I recalled one of the best parts of retreats was the silence and being alone regardless of location.  I tested this theory the other night when I went out on our deck under the full moon and spent close to an hour pacing in the dark, praying my heart out to God.  I felt His presence.  I gained insights.  I started to grasp the Quaker concept of the "Christ within".  I carry God's presence everywhere I go.  Just like I said at the end of my retreat talk, "as soon as I stop talking, stop thinking, stop planning, stop organizing, and just be.... there He is." 

Yes, it's nice to have a designated place to "visit Jesus", but am I seriously going to base my actions on what feels good?  That's sort of the opposite of what Jesus taught.  Same with receiving Communion.  I genuflect before receiving.  I teach my kids to pay close attention at the Transubstantiation.  We say hello and goodbye to Jesus as we enter and leave the church.  All to help them have a sense of the Real Presence of Jesus.  My daughter just started her two year preparation to receive her First Holy Communion.  This is a big deal, a coming of age into "big kidhood".  And suddenly, I'm stopped in my tracks wondering if I'm actually teaching and practicing idolatry.

The truth is this.  Either the Real Presence if true, in which case it's not idolatry and I should continue as before, seeking out social justice outlets to live out my faith.  Or it's not true, and I don't really have a valid, biblical reason to keep building up the falsehood.

Moment of truth.  When I think of being Catholic, I think of all the things the Catholic church teaches about Jesus (and Mary, and the saints, and etc.).  I think of all the things the Catholic church teaches about what's the right thing to do, what's considered virtue and what's a vice.  I see the Catholic church as the filter through which the Gospel gets passed down to me.  And I'm seeing that there's a problem with this.  Maybe this was appropriate during the Middle Ages, before most people were literate and before the printing press.  In fact, I'd say the Catholic church really capitalized on the masses' ignorance and tied them to itself.  While Jesus may have hoped to have His apostles and disciples pass on the Good News to those who would come after them (after all, most people in Jesus's time were likewise illiterate), what happens when these people, tasked with such a monumentally crucial role as passing on the facts of salvation through faith in Christ, twist the message to their own advantage?  After all, the masses wouldn't be any wiser for it. 

The easier thing would be to just stay Catholic, keep trying to find ways to follow Jesus from the base camp that is my current faith community.  It's what I know, it's what I'm comfortable with.  But there's also an element of the classic Catholic guilt - what if I'm wrong?  I better stay put just in case the Catholic church is right.  But wait a minute... what if it's the Catholic church that is wrong? 

And so, I embark on a different spiritual journey, no longer to find a "good match" to what I want out of a spirituality, but rather, in search of ... truth.  The true Jesus.  The true Gospel.  The true Way of Jesus that His early followers embraced. 

The repercussions are not lost on me.  This is a journey that I must take my husband and children on, if I truly want to say, in the words of Joshua 24:15, "As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."

I must answer for myself, and then - if applicable - convince my husband, of one thing: Is it possible and wise to live out the Christian commission, the Christian lifestyle, from within the Catholic church?  Most importantly, though, it isn't what I think or decide, but rather what I am led to.  Is the Holy Spirit leading me to take a leap of faith and to look to the great unknown in order to follow my Savior to where He would have me?  Am I willing to risk starting over at another faith community, possible over and over until I find the right one?  Am I willing to cling entirely to Jesus and my personal discernment of His will for my life, trusting that He gave me my conscience not so that it would be "formed" (brainwashed?) by the filter of the Catholic church (or any other church for that matter), but so that I could commune directly with God?

It's funny.  On one hand, I feel like the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, if it is true, is the most obvious way to be close to God, closer than anyone else can claim.  On the other hand, if I really think about it, it's not at all the clearest path to Him.  It relies entirely on the presence of the Catholic church.  It depends on my access to the Catholic church.  Reserving the tabernacle at the nearest Catholic church as THE place I can meet God is ignoring Him the rest of the time when I am not at church.  It's putting on hold any big questions or requests until I can "be with Him" in Adoration.  Yes, there is something psychologically true about the fact that when something is too common, it loses it's specialness.  But there is also something to be said about what Albert Einstein once said: "You either believe that everything is a miracle, or that nothing is."

You know when I'm most in awe of God?  When I ponder outer space.  When I am outdoors and take in the vastness of nature.  You know when I feel closest to Him, other than when outside?  When I'm moved by beautiful music, or inspiring poetry, or breath-taking artwork.  In other words, when I see/hear/feel God's creativity in action among His people. 

I already know that I will never find a church that is a "perfect fit" for me.  There are aspects of Catholic teaching and tradition that are not unbiblical and that resonate with me very much, but that are lacking in many other denominations. I am on uncharted territory here.  I cannot merely "jump ship" and cling to someone else's interpretation and implementation of the Gospel.  I need to depend entirely on the grace of God to move me.

I have often wondered what exactly was the good news of Jesus.  I didn't get it.  Clearly, something went wrong with all the Christians that have "taught" me in the past, since this should be abundantly clear.  This is what I have finally come up with.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ

1. I am loved unconditionally by God, in Whose image I was made.
2. I am forgiven for my faults and shortcomings.
3. I am gifted with talents and opportunities unique to me.
4. I am called to some great mission for God.
5. The correct response to the above is gratitude and awe expressed in worship (both private and corporal).
6. I am expected to serve others as Jesus did.
7. I am expected to fellowship with other believers.
8. I am expected to study the Word of God.
9. I am expected to discern my calling through prayer and meditation.
10. I am expected to help others do likewise (aka. evangelize).

I don't know much, but I know this; if a person, resource, group, or church leaves me more confused than convicted about the message of Jesus, it cannot be the place for me. 

Lord, please bless my efforts and forgive my inaccurate doubts. Amen.

Why I Didn't Convert to These Religions

Various faith traditions over the millenia have made efforts to try to explain the unexplainable and make sense of the universe, to find our purpose in life and look towards something beyond the material.  Over the years, I’ve researched many of these traditions, and having decided to stick with the religious tradition of my upbringing, I note below why these other faith traditions didn’t convince me to convert (although many came very close).

Hinduism is probably the farthest removed from a helpful explanation of the human condition, for it merely recognizes the unfortunate inequality between people and, rather than being motivated to reach beyond oneself to help others, it simply places blame on them so as to relieve oneself of any obligation to serve others.  Hindus fear becoming like the less fortunate in a future life, and this fear motivates them to attempt to earn a better social standing.  Yet somehow this motivation does not actually do much to help those already in lesser position. 

Native American and many other indigenous spiritualities often recognize the importance of creation and our responsibility towards it, but they merge that which was created with Who created it.  Polytheism is an attempt to reach for an origin to what we see, yet somehow the idea of a single Source is lost on those who believe in various gods and goddesses.

For a long time I have been fascinated with eastern philosophies of Taoism and Buddhism.  Taoism focuses on the balance of everything in nature, which is absolutely true and beautiful to reflect on.  What it fails to recognize a loving Creator God behind the very principles that the philosophy observes.  Buddhism recognizes the inevitability of suffering in this world and acknowledges that it is desire that is behind suffering, yet it fails to recognize that our desires are not in themselves somehow wrong or misplaced, and therefore the premise of Buddhism’s attempt to snuff out desire is ill-placed.  The desire is placed their by our Creator God, and it points to an eternal existence that cannot be realized in our earthly realm.  It is not bad to want good things for oneself.  It only becomes bad when a person becomes a slave to the desire and fails to look beyond it.  Certain desires are certainly to be overcome with grace and discipline, but other desires point us to the very real human need to fill a void that can only be filled by God Himself.

Shintoism focuses on ancestors, believing that there is a divination process that takes place upon death, and one’s ancestors become gods who must then be worshipped.  Of course, one’s elders ought to be respected, and there’s truth in the belief of life after death.  But what’s missing is the Creator God.

Islam and Judaism, in my view, are two sides of the same coin.  Both recognize a single Creator God and the need to “do good”.  It would seem the reason Islam came into being is because of political reasons.  People longed for the one true God but couldn’t imagine “joining” the already existing Judaism (or Christianity, for that matter).  This is of course a simplistic observation of a mere amateur bystander.

Christianity, at its core, incorporates all of these aspects.  It recognizes the problem of inequality among people, the interconnectedness of everyone and creation, the existence of opposites in all aspects of life, the value of those who have come before us, and the recognition that we all it all to a single Creator God.  What distinguishes Christianity from Judaism and Islam is the level of control that we actually have over it all.  Judaism and Islam indicate that enough “good works” will satisfy God and grant us access to Him in the afterlife.  Christianity realizes the futility of this approach and instead notes that while we are indeed called to “good works”, these are not what “get us into heaven”.  Rather, it is simply God’s grace, a free gift of self-giving love, that enables us to be saved from our own downfall.  He loved us enough to take the blame for our sins.  No amount of penance would ever completely erase the wrongs of our erroneous thoughts, words, deeds, and omissions over the course of a lifetime.  Yet though He’s a just God, more than that He is a loving and therefore forgiving God. 

The difference between a Christian’s good works and those of a Muslim or Jew is that the Christian, if truly living according to the Gospel, does the good deeds out of a sense of gratitude to God for having been saved, not out of a sense of obligation or fear or in the hopes of manipulating God to favor her or him in the afterlife.  In other words, the Christian is motivated by love.

Except that many in-name-only Christians misrepresent Jesus and what He calls us to.  They prioritize the incidentals and minimize the crucial gospel-living behavior.  They worship in churches on Sundays (or Saturdays), they speak openly about their love of Jesus, they quickly point out the wrongdoing of others and quote relevant Scriptures to back up their judgment calls, they claim to love the unbelievers and want nothing more than to see them in heaven… All while they ignore the marginalized of society, focus only on the in-group (Americans are in no way immune to ethnocentricity, even if there isn’t a single ethnicity that defines Americans), and selectively point to Scriptures excusing them from help.  Luke 11:42 speaks to this phenomenon: “But woe to you Pharisees!  For you pay tithe of mint and rue and every kind of garden herb, and yet disregard justice and the love of God; but these are the things you should have done without neglecting the others.” 

Yes, it is important to keep the Sabbath holy, dress modestly, and share the gospel with unbelievers… but not without also helping the immigrant, visiting the ill and prisoner, reaching out to the unwanted, speaking truth to power.  It’s not an either-or scenario.  Doing the outward, obvious, and – dare I say – easy part does not exempt one from the Christian responsibility to put oneself out there, risk ridicule and ostracism along with our brothers and sisters whom we are to help, serve, and thereby lead to Christ. 

Purpose of Religion

When I think of religion, I think of a set of beliefs shared by a group of people, beliefs that are meant to motivate said people to live up to their potential, continuously become a better version of themselves, and empty themselves in order to allow the Divine to better live through them. 

To me, religion is the science of things we cannot see or explain using current sets of knowledge.  It is esoteric, experimental, subtle, massively grand, fascinatingly awe-inspiring… or at least these descriptions can be applied to the Divine (aka God to many people) that religion seeks to explain.

Religion is supposed to be an easy label to help categorize people according to the style of worship, core values, meaningful traditions and rituals, and underlying beliefs. 

Is religion necessary in order to live a life pleasing to God? Religion, by definition, requires a group of people agreeing on certain core tenets.  As such, it is true to say that there is no such think as a “religion of one”.  However, is religion even necessary to please God? 

One thing that is grossly missing in a lot of religious people’s lives is the process of personal discernment.  Discernment requires a one-on-one relationship with the Almighty.  Many Christians use the phrase “personal relationship with Christ”, but discernment isn’t merely “having” a relationship, but rather it describes how we are in this relationship.  Discernment is quiet listening and waiting for the subtleties of God speaking to our hearts with His instructions, guidance, encouragement, consolation.  Lots of people like to talk to God, many fewer ever take the time to listen to God speaking back.

Discernment is how Abraham went down in history as the father of monotheism.  Discernment is how Jesus asserted His role in salvific history.  Discernment is how Muhammad brought monotheism to people who may not have otherwise known it.  Abraham was not Jewish; Jesus was not Christian; Muhammad was not Muslim.  What made them great is not their religious affiliation, but their one-on-one relationship with the Almighty, which was defined by a life of discernment.  We, too, can have that kind of relationship with God, regardless of where, when, or how we worship, or how we try to differentiate ourselves from others, or which of the many worthy values we choose to prioritize.

The worst thing that can happen to a spiritually minded person is group-think.  Group-think, in the case of religion, is the idea that there is only one way to interpret ultimate reality, and that we (rather than anyone else) have it all figured out.  Group-think forces people to choose a sense of community over the much scarier and lonelier road that leads to personal revelation.  Group-think limits believers’ freedom, tries to tell them “they” (meaning whoever happens to be in a position of greatest authority in the group) have the correct interpretation and we ought to just fall in line if we know what’s good for us.  Group-think uses fear tactics to herd people together.  Group-think limits the very thing God created each of us for – freedom (think free will), courage, service, self-lessness. 

If I’m being honest with myself, I do a lot of religious things.  I do a lot of spiritual things.  But I’m not truly following Jesus yet because I am constantly checking with “the powers that be” to see if what I’m receiving in prayer fits with what others have already acknowledged and affirmed.  I’m not following Jesus because I worry about being questioned, being accused of wrong interpretation, being wrong.  I’m not following Jesus because there is no fear in perfect love, and love is what Jesus is calling me to. 

Much like the Sabbath, which Jesus said was made for man, not the other way around, I believe the Church likewise was made for man.  The Church is supposed to be there to strengthen its members, to encourage its members, to support its members.  Instead, what I often see is the Church dangling the promise of belongingness to those who check their critical thinking at the door.  I see the Church manipulating control away from individuals for the sake of the group, but in the process the entire group suffers, not to mention all those outside the group.  Jesus didn’t come to save one group among many.  He came to save everybody.  Regardless of religious affiliation. 

Jesus was clear when He said there was only one thing needed for eternal life: to love God with everything we’ve got, and to love others the way we love ourselves (which also requires us to actually love ourselves in the first place, by the way) (Matthew 22:36-40).  Elsewhere He also said that many people will cry out “Lord, Lord”, but He will look at the lives they led (not the beliefs they held) when admitting people into the Kingdom of God (Matthew 7:22-28).  It’s interesting to note that the last verse here (Matthew 7:28) says, “when Jesus had finished these words, the multitudes were astonished at his teaching.”  Even today, I think many religious, pious people would be “astonished” at this teaching.  They’d be saying “yes, but…”  Jesus doesn’t leave anything left to interpretation here.  To follow Jesus means to DO God’s will.  Not to talk about it, not to believe in it, but to DO it.

Yet most religiously-affiliated people are much too concerned about “right beliefs” or “right interpretations” than “right actions”.  Oh, lots of people worry about the “right actions” of other people – quick to point out what people shouldn’t be doing because “the Bible says…”, but less people apply this standard to themselves.  (Matthew 7:3 calls this “looking at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and paying no attention to the plank in your own eye.”) 

Jesus calls us to change ourselves in order to change the world.  He does not call us to strong-handedly attempt to change others by preaching at them, making laws that force people into a certain lifestyle over another, or denying people civil rights “on principle”. Recently, I’m saddened at the way people have used the catch-phrase “religious freedom” to try to force their own interpretations of Scriptures onto other people.  They are held up by many religious people as modern day quasi-martyrs, when in fact, Jesus had something to say about the place of secular law in a spiritual person’s life when He said in Mathew 12:17, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Civil rights, social justice, these are secular ideals and they belong in the secular realm.  Our spiritual beliefs ought to motivate us to live them out, not to change them according to our own interpretations.  What applies to one group of people must apply to all groups of people. 

There are people who will read this and cry “heretic”!  Yet to be a heretic, one must first accept the premise that there even is such a thing as “accepted belief or doctrine”.  Accepted by whom?  Doesn’t this term basically mean that everyone is a heretic in relation to some set of beliefs?  What is the point of such a label? 

The beauty of Scriptures is that it is the living word of God.  It is open to interpretation, and as such, is capable of speaking directly to the condition of an individual reader’s (or hearer’s) heart, based on their unique circumstances, life experiences, and personality traits.  This is the subtlety of God at it’s finest.  This is discernment.  There is no “how-to” guide to pleasing God that is equally applicable to everyone.  Each of us must consult God directly and honestly, willing to be called a heretic, willing to be ostracized, willing to be threatened with the withdrawal of community, willing to put one’s conscience on the line for the sake of truth.  Truth is ultimate, but it is not simple nor easy to explain. 

Truth and application are in fact not one and the same.  Gravity is true.  Yet how gravity applies to someone walking a tightrope versus how it applies to our very planet in orbit differs.  The point of reference for each is different.  It doesn’t make gravity any less true in one of the circumstances.  While on Earth, gravity pulls us towards its center.  While in the cosmos, our Earth orbits around the Sun, not itself.  The planet is no longer the source of that gravity.  Likewise, God calls each of us to Himself in different ways, and none of us are able to discern on behalf of anyone else.  It simply cannot be done.  We can impose our own interpretations onto others, but this is not the same, nor is it in any way helpful to either party, and certainly it’s not what God calls each individual to do.

So, if I can’t simply trust my religion to tell me what God wants me to do, how do I please God?  What exactly do I need to be doing, on a regular, even daily, basis, so that I know that I am right with God?  How exactly does a life following Jesus look like?

I know it doesn’t look like sitting comfortably in my middle-class suburban home, enjoying many luxuries that my husband’s salary can afford our family of 4, without actually sharing the wealth with others.  I know it doesn’t look like writing a check here and there and patting myself on the back for “being generous.”  I know it doesn’t look like enjoying myself in worship, being intellectually stimulated by a provocative homily, moved to tears by inspiring music, comforted by beautiful stained glass or other decorations.  It doesn’t look like simply being known by name by many people who happen to spend time at the same place as I do during the same times (Mass at my church, the same events and small groups, etc).  I know that it does not mean simply following the 10 commandments.  Um, those are pretty basic.  Like, Kindergarten in the school of life.  You have to have those down before moving on to bigger and better things, but you certainly have not graduated if that’s all you’ve got.

Jesus actually did give us several ideas, both through His words and through His actions.  He spent time with people no respectable person wanted to be caught with.  He talked to them as if He didn’t realize their past mistakes.  Yet He did not coddle them.  He called them out of themselves, challenged them to keep striving to be better, not to settle.  He healed those who were in need of healing.  He celebrated the good times and wept along side others during the sad times.  He got justifiably upset at people who were cheating others (turning over tables at the temple).  He called out those who said one thing but did another.  He welcomed everyone willing to follow Him.  He turned no one away.  Sometimes people turned away from Him on their own, but it was never He who turned them away.  He also took time for Himself.  He lived by example form start to finish.  He knew that time alone with God the Father Almighty was what gave Him the Spirit of conviction, courage, wisdom.  He knew there must be a balance between service and self-care. 

And He told us in the Beatitudes some examples of what following Him entails (in Matthew 5:3-12):  Blessed (happy) are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted because of righteousness, those who are insulted or persecuted or falsely accused because of Him.

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? 

When I Considered Religious Life

My senior year of high school, I thought about becoming a nun.  I had just read a little book by now Saint Theresa of Kolkata (then and still today known to the world as Mother Theresa).  I was young and naive with romanticism about travel, experiencing other cultures, and spending my days in silent contemplation.  I had not real idea of what it meant to be a religious sister, much less a missionary abroad.  I was certainly confusing that and the life of a contemplative hermit-style nun.  Either way, it didn't take long for me to move on to other aspirations after I got discouraged from the idea by my family.

Their reasoning wasn't exactly based on the fact that I had no idea what I was talking about.  Rather, it was based on the fact that they didn't want me to live a life of poverty.  My grandmother, I remember, mentioned, that if I were a boy and expressed an interest in the priesthood, that'd be different.  There were clearly stereotypes about what the various religious lifestyles entail.

In the end, I wasn't being called to the religious life, but I can't really say that I actually discerned this.  Rather, in retrospect, after having actually learned more about what it takes to live out such a vocation, I see that God knew me better than I knew myself.

In a nutshell, if I'm being honest, what I wanted was to live free of charge on an eternal spiritual retreat.  I have since learned that a) you can't enter a religious order with debt, b) they put you to work, and it may not be what you want to be doing, c) the hours of prayer and contemplation come at the price of sleep and free time; they are not in lieu of the full time work that is expected, and finally, d) that entering a religious order is a calling, not a decision. 

This last one actually applies to married life as well, but sadly no one seems to discern if they are called to married life.  They just sort of assume that they are, unless something nudges them to the contrary.  And that's a shame.  Alex and I recently became mentors to engaged couples wishing to be married in the Catholic church.  Our first couple has been together for a decade, has lived together for most of that time, and have three kids together.  It's probably a bit late in their circumstances to be discerning if married life is what they're being called to.

So with that in mind, I want to raise my kids to keep their options truly open.  I don't want them to assume anything.  We don't know yet to which vocation God will call them.  We want them to stay open to all the possibilities, and this is reflected in our family standards regarding dating.  I know first hand how easy it is to "fall in love" as a teenager and then be unable to imagine a life without the significant other. By then it's too late to start considering if God is even calling you to married life or not.  I can't imagine having to break up with a steady boyfriend because "it's time to discern" a vocation.  Instead, we will discuss the different vocations (religious life, single life, married life) as they're growing up, and allow group dating but no serious steady relationships before age 18.

I got off easy.  I used to "blame" my family for discouraging me from pursuing a religious vocation, but now I realize that, had I actually discerned it seriously, I probably would have come to the same conclusion.  But you see, then the realization would've been my own, and I would've owned it.  I would have been able to know without a doubt that this is what God wants for my life.  Instead, I sort of cowered with my metaphorical tail between my legs, playing the victim to my family's lack of support.

Last year at a retreat I met a woman who spoke of the mixed blessing it was to have a daughter join a religious order.  Until that moment, I hadn't actually considered it from the parents' perspective.  But it didn't change my determination to be sure I give equal opportunity to all the vocations for my kids.  After all, married life - even single life - doesn't guarantee that my kids will live close by after they're grown.  My daughter, at 4.75 years old, may swear up and down that she always wants to live with me, and I always tell her she's welcome to it, but I can't hold her to it.  I may envision a happy multi-generational household like the one I grew up in in Poland, but it is not up to me.

I have grown a lot since considering religious life over twenty years ago.  Chief among the maturation process is the understanding of discernment.

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!