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. 

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!

Why be Catholic if even atheists can go to heaven?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you Jesus for this peace.  Amen.

A Run-Down of the Religions I've Considered Over the Years

I thought I'd gather my thoughts here about why I ended up abandoning the pursuit of conversion to the various faith traditions that have fascinated me over the years, some of which I pursued longer and more intensely than others, in the hopes that when the next inevitable religious doubt overcomes me, I remember that the grass is the same everywhere I go, and to just stay put and wait it out in my own Catholic church.

In no particular order, below are the religions I've considered making my own at one point or another.

Paganism

I was an active solitary Pagan for a year, an inactive Pagan for another year, before I finally called it quits.  I had my own personal Book of Shadows that I did, and I celebrated monthly on the full moon as well as the two solstices and two equinoxes.  I participated in several community events for Pagans, as well.  Ultimately, I ended up abandoning this faith expression as it lacked community, tradition, and felt a bit too fairy-tale for me. I liked the feminine divine aspect, as well as respect for nature.

Quakerism

For about five years, off and on, I attended five different meetinghouses for various lengths of time.  I never shared a spoken ministry during meeting.  For several months, I was in touch with a spiritual advisor who was a member of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers).  I finally decided against joining because I wasn't getting the regular educational and encouraging aspects I had been used to from a homily based on scripture readings.  I also missed the ritual and music.  I did appreciate the four main testimonies of peace, equality, integrity, and simplicity.  And I loved the silence, though it lacked balance with more vocal and lively worship.

Reform Judaism

I attended an educational workshop and a Hannukkah celebration open to the community at large, as well as a Yom Kippur celebration at Georgetown University. I also visited a synagogue when I checked out a sale they had going on.  I decided against becoming a Reform Jew because it rubbed me the wrong way that there was a mandatory financial obligation that went with membership.  I also felt like an outsider when surrounded by other Jews.  It felt more like cultural appropriation than conversion.  I had originally considered Reform Judaism because it did not require circumcision or keeping kosher, though because of this (in part), most other Jews don't consider Reform Jews Jewish anyway.  Also, Judaism as a whole seemed to have a straightforward theology - one God - which I liked. 

Islam

I've attended Friday prayer services at several mosques with friends.  I've also been to Muslim weddings.  One of my good long-time friends is Muslim, and I've also gotten the benefit of staying in her home and seeing first hand what a Muslim home life could be.  I read and watched a lot of videos about Islam during my two-month stay in Germany.  As with Judaism, I liked the simplicity of their theology - one God, Allah. I also liked the modesty and humility that came with the practice of wearing the hijab.  However, I could not get on board with infant circumcision, animal sacrifice as part of Eid celebrations, and the halal dietary restrictions.

Buddhism

This was the first non-Catholic religion that I ever studied or considered.  I've practiced yoga and meditation off and on over the years, and I've visited two Buddhist temples.  The theory of reincarnation resonated with me.  Zen buddhism was the particular form of Buddhism that I was most interested in due to its simplicity.  However, the complete lack of a belief in God just didn't cut it for me.  The one thing I never questioned was that there must be a Creator of the universe.  It seemed impossible to join a Buddhist community and maintain a Buddhist practice when these did not center on the worship of my Maker.

Taoism

Honestly, Taoism was a quick, one week stop for me.  Everything seemed perfect .... as long as I was buying into the idea that there's such a thing as philosophical Taoism.  Then I came across an academic website explaining why such an idea is a mere Western appropriation of the religion of the Tao.  I couldn't label myself with something that was made up by westerners and had a very different meaning for Chinese Taoists.  What I do love about Taoism is that there's a balance to everything. However, while God is sort of implied, there isn't a lot of emphasis on Him.  It felt like a disjointed effort of trying to reinvent the wheel.

Unitarian Universalism

I attended several UU services, and I never really felt like there was anything there for me.  On paper, it seemed like a possible good match, but in real life, it was more of an organization of do-gooders than a spiritual home.  

Protestantism

Well, I became a Christian, attended various denomination churches, then brought that Christianity back into Catholicism.  I got caught up in the frenzy of Jesus loves me.  The services were energetic, and I started to believe that I felt the Holy Spirit moving among us. But what never jived well with me was the idea that God would allow anyone to suffer eternal damnation for a belief.  I have always believed that what we do in our life matters more than what we believe, and I could never shake this enough to truly embrace the Protestant version of Christianity.

Orthodox Christianity

There was a bit of wishing for the olden days of Catholicism when I became interested in Orthodoxy.  I felt that the Orthodox churches did a better job of maintaining the ancient mysticism and ritual and sacredness of Mass than did Catholicism.  However, I guess I just never felt a strong enough pull to make the jump.  When I actually believed Christianity, the Catholic apologetics for the papacy just seemed to make sense.

Mormonism

I welcomed visits from Mormon missionaries for a couple of months.  Visited the local Mormon church.  Watched some videos on Mormonism.  I liked the way they seemed committed to their faith, the tight-knit community they seemed to have.  But the theology always felt far-fetched, and a prohibition of alcohol was a turn-off for me.  Not because I drink regularly or anything, but just because I hate being categorically told no to something that I do not see as an inherent threat.  My interest was short-lived, though I waited a bit to see if it would come back before completely bowing out of missionary visits.

Amish

Speaking of tight-knit communities, I was a little obsessed with the Amish for a time.  I had read that there have been a handful of outsiders converting to the faith, but I really knew it was never going to happen since I was already married and being Amish is not something one spouse can be while the other does something else.  The back-to-basics lifestyle really appealed to me.  Being closer to the land, something I am not but wish I were.  Modesty, working with one's hands.  But after seeing several documentaries on the Amish, I thought it was too much harshness and not enough love.  Discipline is very strict, and the worship services seem quite dry and uninspiring.  

Hinduism

I never considered Hinduism a valid option until I read that Julia Roberts had converted to Hinduism. I learned that yoga originated with Hinduism and not Buddhism, and again, reincarnation made sense to me.  However, the theology just seemed too foreign for me.  Even when I tried to look at the different gods allegorically, as I was advised to do, there was too big of a learning curve, and I guess I wasn't motivated enough to pursue it.  

Spiritual Independence

Pretty much this is what I really wanted - an anything goes way of life.  But when it came down to it, I didn't really want anything to go.  I want standards, boundaries, traditions, rituals, community, structure, tried and true practices. 

Deism

I toyed with the idea of labeling myself a Deist, and finally did embrace the label, over the course of the most recent year.  The theology is so simple - God exists, just look around you!  But the problem was that it stopped there.  It's not a religion, it's a theology.  A very basic, minimalist theology. There's no community or spiritual practice that goes with it.  I am still waiting, about two months later, to be accepted into an online deist community.  I have chosen to see that delay as a sign from God to give it up and come back home to Catholicism.

Catholicism

Well, I've left it and rejoined it a couple of times now.  I left due to my core belief in religious relativism, which I know is a big no-no within Catholicism.  Ultimately, I do not believe that there is a universal religious truth.  I believe that what is, is going to be experienced differently by different people depending on their circumstances, and that these differences are what leads to the varying religious interpretations of the world.  I believe that God is unknowable, so to claim you've got Him figured out is just plain arrogant.  And yet, I've searched for alternatives for 20 years now, and I keep coming back to the Catholic tradition.  Essentially, what it comes down to is that Catholicism is a tradition for me.  It's a spiritual practice.  A set of comforting rituals and wise teachings, some of which I disagree with.  It's a wealth of beautiful reaching out to God in the form of music and art, and to our fellow human beings in the form of Catholic-run hospitals and schools.  Catholicism has a lot to offer, no less than any of the other traditions I visited over the years.  But it has one thing more - I have a birthright familiarity with it.  It may not be what staunch Catholics want to hear as the reason for me being Catholic (namely, that it'll just have to do), but I've been told by several priests and nuns over the years - God will meet me where I am.  So here I am.

Swapping Religions

As I was afraid, I may have jumped the gun on the whole potential-Jewish-convert idea.  But it's a thought process, and as long as I'm headed in the right direction, it doesn't matter where I thought I was going.

On a daily basis, for several weeks, Judaism and a Jewish life were at the forefront of my mind.  I discussed the possibility of a family conversion with Alex, who said both, that he was uncomfortable with the idea of converting but was open to learning, and that he is who he is today because he seeks to please me.... He probably knows by now that usually I just need to be able to hear my thoughts out loud, try ideas on as if they were decisions, and then sleep on the result.

Over the past few weeks of discernment, I've realized several things.  I need a label to give myself a spiritual/religious identity.  I thrive on compartmentalizing things; that's how I make sense of the world.  All the more when it comes to answering a question like "who am I".  Up until now, I've struggled with my lifelong identity as a Catholic.  I've given it adjectives (cultural? Christian?).  I've considered alternatives that don't stray too far from the Catholic home-base (Orthodox? Protestant?). No matter what I've tried, I've felt that I'm trying too hard and my religious identity should not be this difficult. That's why I thought a conversion to Reform Judaism would provide me with an official label/category that accurately reflected my spiritually liberal views.

Also, I've realized that I want a spiritual community of like-minded individuals to validate my own spiritual beliefs and values.  I wish this weren't the case.  I feel downright moronic to have admitted this, but if I'm going to move forward on this journey, I need to know exactly where I am, not where I think I should be or where I hope to be.  So, the community at our Catholic church doesn't quite fit the bill.  I recently went through a small-group series at the church where I so wanted to fit in.  I wanted to recapture my faith.  Yet by the end of the series, I knew I was a Catholic in name only, by virtue of my upbringing, nationality, habit, comfort level, but not faith.  I couldn't openly share my views on things that the Magisterium officially teaches against.  I mean, I COULD, but this would create an uncomfortable situation of others seeking to revert me back to the fold, convince me I'm wrong, pray for my salvation even (not so much in the Catholic tradition, which I think is why I've stuck around for so long.)  Again, belonging to a synagogue where the focus is not on belief, but where I know everyone most likely at least believes in a personal God, would allow me the freedom to express my thoughts and opinions without risking shunning.

Finally, I wanted a set of practices that would weave my faith into my daily life.  I used to enjoy the rituals of Catholicism when I was oblivious to what they stood for, even more when I believed what they stood for.  But once I began to be uncomfortable with worshiping the alleged incarnation of the Almighty instead of worshiping God directly through no intermediary, I could no longer in good conscience perform rituals meant to align me with a specific member of the Trinity, which 99% of the time was NOT the Father (the Creator, Source, Spirit).  I felt empty when considering non-ritualistic denominations, like Unitarian Universalism.  But if I'm being honest, the specific details that enriched my spiritual and religious life in the past - stained glass windows, beautiful artwork and statues, candles, silence in the sanctuary, timeless and uplifting music - have long left most Catholic churches anyway.  These are not what makes a Catholic church.  These are details, and many would argue insignificant at that.  Yet to me, they are not insignificant.  They are the stepping stones my soul would use to reach up to God.

As it turns out, I've been looking for something that doesn't exist.  I've been looking for what is perfection to my particular sentiments and needs, and organized religion can't possibly please everyone.  (Of course, that's not its point, either.)  But there was one more consideration that was giving me a sense of urgency about figuring out who I am spiritually once and for all:  my daughter Maya.  I don't want to pass on to her this spiritual uncertainty.  I want to raise her with a clear notion of God's presence in her life.

I don't know how exactly it happened, but yesterday it just dawned on me to reword my hopes for Maya's (and my) spirituality.  I had to peel back the last layer to get to the root of what I believe and start from that central point, not by negating where I happen to be right now.

I believe there is a God, a God who cares about me and whom I will join for all eternity after this life. I believe that the details cannot be known this side of heaven, yet it is precisely the details that every organized religion seems to try to nail down and pass on to its adherents as truth.  The truth is that God cannot be limited by any one religion.  The truth is that God cannot be limited by words, descriptions, explanations.  The truth is that God can only truly be known through direct experience.

So, if that's my understanding of God, and this is what I hope to teach Maya, does it really make sense for me to try to convert the family from any one particular religion to another? I've been looking for a one-size-fits-all religion that will fulfill all three of my needs - an officially recognized religious label in a community setting where my beliefs and values are reinforced and expressed in rituals and practices that can be incorporated into daily life, and this package deal is what I've wanted to pass on to my daughter.  Realizing that I don't believe any one religion is "true", it became pointless to convert from one to the other.  If we think of a pyramid divided into several levels, with the bottom level representing official organized religions, the middle level representing more general dogmas and creeds not necessarily tied to a single religion, and the very tip representing the actual truth and union with God, then I've been headed in the wrong direction - horizontally instead of vertically.

By the grace of God, it was this realization that made me realize that the best way to teach Maya what I believe about God - that He is not limited to a single religion - is actually to expose her to many different religions and NOT to merely pretend we "belong" to one interpretation but not another one. Granted, this immediately presents an obstacle to the first need I have - a label for that part of me that is religious.  There actually are a few labels I've considered before that came up, and some new ones I recently read about.  The idea is, if someone asks "what religion are you?" they're just looking for a label.  I can say "Spiritually Independent" (because indeed, my beliefs are independent from any organized religion), or "Seeker" (because indeed, I'm seeking God, and as I just realized, not religion), or "Ethical Monotheist" (something Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all purport to be at their core but sadly often fall very short in practice).  But considering actually identifying with any of these labels to the exclusion of a better recognized religious category seems cumbersome.  In a real life conversation, my interlocutor would either have no idea what I'm talking about and I'd have to explain, or, as with "Seeker", the assumption may be made that I'm sort of "in between religions" and open to considering theirs.  Sometimes, in life, a quick label that doesn't beg any further questions is needed.

And lo and behold, that's when it occurred to me that God has been drawing me to Himself all along (as if there was ever any doubt) by bringing me back around for the third (?!) time to Quakerism.

I've long held that I am a Quaker at heart.  My attendance at Quaker meeting-houses has been sporadic at best, so I've never even attained the status of ongoing attender, much less come to a place where I might request that a clearance committee consider making me "official".  The freedom of belief that nonetheless remains based on the teachings of Jesus - something I'm familiar and comfortable with - does beat out the freedom of belief available in Reform Judaism, since Jesus would pretty much have to become irrelevant all together.  I've heard it said that Jesus is to Judaism what Mohammad is to Christianity.  Perhaps he's fine as a teacher for those who follow him, but he's outside the scope of our world view.

For a long time, whenever I looked outside of Christianity for a potential spiritual home, I didn't feel right leaving Jesus behind.  Not because I believe that he is God, but because I'm familiar with the wording of his teachings.  I know that many of his lessons can be found in the teachings of other sages, those that came before him and those that followed him.  But I cannot pretend that my culture doesn't in part make me who I am, and my culture happened to include the particular teachings of Jesus.  So I never really liked the idea of leaving Jesus behind, but I felt I was between a rock and a hard place.  It seemed that I could either have Jesus as God or not at all.  Most recently, it became apparent to me that if indeed I had to choose, I couldn't continue to worship anyone but HaShem the Almighty.  Every time I thought of praising Jesus, I thought of the Jewish and Muslim accusation of idolatry.  I couldn't, in good conscience, continue to divert my worship from Allah the Creator.

But going back to Quakerism, I was reminded that I actually did have another option.  I could join a group of people who speak of listening to the Christ Within, a group of people who believe as I do that Jesus can teach us how to live right by God, without any particular creed or dogma about the theological details.

In Quakerism, I can have the label I desire, the community of like-minded people, and some tradition (mainly in the way things are worded, which is cool because as a linguist, I like words!).  But what about my stained glass and candles?  And what about not being able to have Alex worship with me because the silent worship leads to his snoring (ahem)?

Well, having come to the realization that what I actually believe and what I actually want to teach Maya is that it doesn't matter to God where or how we worship Him, so long as we serve Him by doing His will, it no longer became necessary to have a "family religion".  I could fulfill all of my spiritual needs so long as I quit fixating on trying to stuff them all into a single religious prepackaged box.

So how do I envision our family spiritual life now?

For starters, I'm going to have to make a better effort at finding a meeting house where I can feel at home.  I may have to drive a bit farther than I'd like to do that, but something's got to give.  Since Alex and I have not both been able to be attentive at Mass since Maya started walking, we've toyed with the idea of Alex going to a different Mass, my himself, and then watching Maya while I attend another Mass.  Well, this phase will end once Maya is old enough to sit somewhat still and pay attention to what's going on.  At that point, we can go back to attending Mass together as a family. Hopefully by then we'll find a church whose beauty is inspiring enough, whose music is uplifting enough, whose homilies are engaging enough, where I can still get some of my spiritual needs met there (while of course simply ignoring those aspects that I find questionable, objectionable, or unnecessary). In the meantime, I'll watch Maya while Alex attends Mass, and he'll watch her while I attend worship at a meeting house (there are two about 12 miles away that I want to check out).

That takes care of the weekly corporal worship aspect of our family's spiritual life.  But there's more.  Once I'm a full-fledged member of a meeting house, I'll feel a lot more comfortable participating with the Catholic community, since I'll be able to voice disagreement on theological issues without causing concern as a "lapsed Catholic".  Instead, I'll simply be a Quaker whose views differ from those of Catholics  In the meantime.  I'll need to become an integral part of my meeting-house and make friends there.  Not only will we be able to participate in each other's primary places of worship's activities, but Maya will also be able to benefit from the children's programs at both.

Furthermore, we'll periodically visit other places of worship and incorporate learning about other faiths into our homeschool curriculum.  As for Maya's religious identity, she can either be both Catholic and Quaker (at least the Quakers won't mind), or we can say that she is too young to have a religious identity of her own, and that she will decide when she's old enough.

With this arrangement, we can continue to celebrate Christmas and Easter and focus on our understanding of these holidays.  The same goes for religious art around the house, and the wording of our prayers.

Thank you, Lord, for opening my eyes to the possibility of serving You if only I think outside the box of a single family religion.  Amen.

Seriously. Jewish?

I hesitate to write this post, because I do not know where the future may lead, and for some reason I worry that I may be made to feel silly for every feeling the way I do currently.  Yet that's the worst that may happen.  On the flip side, if the future indeed leads to where I'm headed right now, it may prove useful to look back and see how it all began.

There really are many starting points on my spiritual journey.  I've discussed this elsewhere as well. I grew up in a culturally Catholic household with an equal dose of pagan influences and Church attendance/various Christianity-related traditions, something I actually was not aware of until I became more and more spiritual and religious and found resistance from my family.  The horoscope and astrology in general were discussed as fact for as long as I can remember. It coexisted with regular Mass attendance, catechism classes, and home celebrations of holidays found on the liturgical calendar.  What was not present, which finally tipped me off as to the lack of actual religious Catholic influence in my family, was that there was no discussion of Christian beliefs aside from the very vague existence of God and going to heaven after we die.  There was likewise no family prayer, not even at mealtimes.  Being Catholic was a fraction of our cultural identity, something we fit in between Polish sentiments, like the importance of the Polish language, agreement about the deliciousness of Polish foods, and a common history of persecution from all sides over the years.

It wasn't until many years after immigrating to the United States that my idea of what it meant to be Catholic was contradicted by what my family considered "Catholic enough".  My senior year of high school, I felt a desire to draw closer to God.  The only way I knew how to do so was to consider a religious vocation.  I wanted to become a nun, and spend my days in prayer, study, and simple jobs around the convent.  I never had the chance to actually discern this vocation, because I was promptly discouraged by my family.  The idea of taking on such a lifestyle was akin to sadness in their eyes.  They couldn't imagine that I might actually be fulfilled by a life of simplicity. Lacking any seriously religious adult role models in my life, I followed the advice of my family and gave up the idea of a religious life before it ever had a chance to germinate in my mind any further.

Some years later, after my journey took me out of the Church and to various denominations and non-Christian world views, I came across another road block from my family.  I had come to feel God's presence envelope me and invite me into a personal relationship with Him.  Since previously I thought the only way to have a relationship with God was through the consecrated life, and since that idea was quickly squashed, I hadn't pursued that relationship in any other way because I didn't know another way existed.  And then, through years of exposure to Protestant Christians, I finally started to consider a life lived for God without the Catholic church.  For a brief while, I was excited about my born-again faith and tried to share my excitement with my mom.  In spite of what I thought were compelling arguments, she responded with "that's nice, but I'm still Catholic".

Then I tried to bring that fire I had for living for God into the Catholic sphere. I delved into Catholic history and theology and realized for the first time that what I was taught as a child was not the official, religious, Catholicism meant to bring me closer to God, but rather a mere cultural Catholicism.  As it would turn out, in spite of both of us "being Catholic", my religious reasons and my family's cultural reasons put us at odds with each other; we might as well have been of different religions.  My attempts at modest dress were ridiculed.  My frequent activity at church functions was tolerated at best.  I was keenly aware of my inability to say grace before meals in the presence of my family without it eliciting some sort of reaction - a raised eyebrow, a tongue-in-cheek joke, a sigh, or a discussion afterwards pointing out my lack of holiness in some area of my life.  Any public display of my religious sentiments was a threat - presumably - to my less religious relatives.  I was seen as acting holier-than-thou.  My religious behavior was seen as unnecessary.  Again, none of my relatives considered that perhaps this is just something that helps me live a more fulfilling life.

And so, with no support from my family to be religious, I found myself on my own as I searched for religious truth.  Thankfully, God sent my husband Alex into my life early on in my adult life.  He has always been open minded, and with time became religious as well.  Let me clarify that he is religious in an open-minded sort of way.  He is open about his belief in God, yet he does not presume to be certain that there is one religion that holds all truth about God.  That is precisely where I find myself as well.

Yet in spite of my conclusion that no religion can possibly contain everything there is to know about God, I still long to belong to a religion I can live out with integrity and joy.  It is not enough for me to simply be aware of my convictions without a larger body of believers reaffirming those convictions for me.  It is no longer appropriate for me to worship at a Catholic church and simply tune out the parts of the liturgy that do not resonate with me.  In fact, I can no longer, in good conscience, continue to associate myself with a Christian identity of any sort.

I love the teachings of Jesus, and for a long time I couldn't imagine abandoning his influence in my spiritual life.  Yet I see my relationship with Jesus akin to my relationship to the late Polish Pope.  I remember vividly keeping vigil when St. John Paul II's last days were being televised.  I mourned my fellow countryman and namesake as if I knew him personally.  Yet shortly after he died, I realized that since a Pole was no longer at the head of "my" church, I was relieved of my obligation to remain Catholic.  Similarly, the more I've studied about religion, the Bible, and Jesus, the more I've felt that I've been fed an image of Jesus that does not belong to the actual Yeshua who walked this earth 2,000 years ago.  I've been guilt tripped into believing without question.  I was taught that my shortcomings in this life (my "sins") literally have a supra-temporal affect on Jesus; every time I "sin" (as defined by Christian authorities), I crucify Jesus!  Can you imagine?!  How does one get away from that level of brain-washing intact?

At any rate, with my daughter Maya having recently turned one year old (!), the dry spell of my spiritually journey has also turned from a very short lived but intense deepening of Christian Catholic faith to a months-long dark night of the soul, followed in recent months by a reemergence of a desire to reconnect to a spiritual community.  Except that I've come out the other end of this past year with an itch that cannot be left unscratched; I simply do not believe that God is trinitarian.  I do not believe that Jesus meant to start a new religion.  I do not believe that the holy spirit of God is its own person.  I have tried to believe what would make my life the easiest.  Staying Catholic would be the easiest.  But how can a religion be based on a mandate of belief?!  We either believe something is true or we don't.  We cannot help what we believe.  That's like saying we must find someone attractive.  Ludicrous! We are either attracted to someone or we aren't.  There's no logical explanation for it.  Same with religion. So I have to opt out.

I have tried to continue with my Catholic religion on the surface - attendance at mass, Catholic prayers and practice... but I am not Catholic at heart any longer.  My heart is bursting with a desire to know God on a level that is not hindered by a sense of loyalty, or guilt, or mere convenience.  The Christian programming I have received over the years - while perhaps well-meaning - has left me with a conundrum similar to the one I faced when my early desire to take vows of religious life were halted.  I have been unable to get past those aspects of the Catholic Christian faith that I simple cannot accept.  The result has been a stagnant personal life of the spirit.  If I can't, in good conscience, tap into Christian prayers and practices in order to build my relationship with God, that leaves me high and dry.  I have no framework to work with.

I was so excited about the whole Spiritually Independent notion that I wrote about previously.  But once I wrote about it, I realized that it didn't resonate with me.  It felt fake.  Not having a community to share a spirituality with felt as though it wasn't real.  Not having a history or tradition to link my spiritual practice with previous generations felt forced.  These are the sort of things that the Catholic church provided that kept me around for so long.... until finally my conscience could no longer play along.

I believe in one God, indivisible, eternal, omnipotent and omniscient.  I believe God created me - and all of creation - in love.  I believe that God desires for me to draw closer to Him, to know Him, and to seek to please Him.  I believe that He realized my limited ability to do so perfectly, and therefore will accept my good intentions and fill in my shortcomings with His grace.  I believe that the only way I can have meaning in my life is if I am rooted in a religion that has a strong history and tradition, a religion that incorporates ritual to help the entire person become in tune with praying to God, a religion that focuses more on what we do know and can do, without getting tripped up about the details of God's nature or how we can never be good enough for God on our own.

If God is my father, how can my good intentions not be good enough for Him?  If my daughter misses the mark and upsets me, but I know she meant well, how can I not instantly forgive her and give her another chance, again and again if need be?  I don't need the blood of a substitute sacrifice to forgive my own child!

And so it is with this understanding that I slowly turn towards Reform Judaism.  I have high hopes for this new leg of my journey.  In practice, I believe it has many of the aspects of Catholicism that I appreciate - the history, tradition, ritual.  In theology and lived spirituality, I see it close to Quakerism - free to discern where God is leading me and open to His spirit to have a unique road for me to travel. (I want to quickly note that while I felt drawn to Quakerism for a long time, a Quaker once made a negative comment about Catholics that actually explains precisely why I couldn't officially take on the full Quaker identity.  He said that "some people [referring to Catholics] feel the need to light candles".  Indeed - I need that ritual, which Quakerism lacks.)

So, practically speaking, what is my next step?  Well, I have been open and honest with Alex about how I am feeling, because I know that my decisions will involve the entire family.  We want to raise Maya with a strong faith in God, and we need to be on the same page regarding what context that will take place in.  Alex seems open to learning about Judaism with no strings attached, and I couldn't ask for any more from him at this point.  We will be attending our first Shabbat service in a couple of weeks at a Reform Temple.  I imagine that actually coming in contact with other Jews on their own turf and seeing first hand how they worship will either entice me to continue, or stop me dead in my tracks.  I pray to God that this will not turn into another dead end.  I need to be settled spiritually by the time Maya is ready to start asking questions about God.

(I should note that as I read about Jewish practice, I am slooooooowly hoping to start incorporating some of these into our life.  For several days now I've recited the Shema prayer in Hebrew twice daily.  I've been trying to wrap my head around the wealth of grace prayers and at least say the Baruch "call to prayer" before eating.  I'm learning to resist the automatic habit of crossing myself at the start and end of prayers.  And while my participation at Mass has been distracted anyway since Alex and I take turns watching Maya and not really being able to pay full attention, there are two aspects of Mass that I need to eliminate right away if I am to truly discern Judaism: reception of Communion and recitation of the Nicene Creed.  [Since weekly attendance at some sort of place of worship is important to me, until we establish a presence at a shul (syagogue), we need to stick with Mass attendance.] I've toyed with both of these ideas before, and ended up continuing with my own understanding.  But now that I want to give Judaism a try, I need to focus my attention on what the Torah teaches, and not what the Church of Karolina teaches.)

Have I mentioned that I long to celebrate a true Shabbat?  With the candle lighting, blessing of Maya, grace before and after meal, conscious attention paid to what we do and don't do from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday, and gathering for corporal worship at shul.  Have I mentioned also that I long to study the Torah?  Something deep inside tells me that there is a hidden jewel inside the Torah, and that I will not be disappointed if I undertake serious study of it.

What About Judaism?

I reverted to draft several of my posts from this year that dealt with my spiritual journey.  I felt a bit uneasy about having these personal thoughts in the virtual world.  I felt... embarrassed (?) for not having a firm grasp on my religious or spiritual life as a thirty-something adult.  But upon further reflection, I decided to repblish them.  They are reflections of where I've been on the journey, not a declaration of my final arrival.  Rather, I'm finding that my spiritual journey continues....

It's interesting.  At the completion of the Called and Gifted small groups program I blogged about earlier, I started reading a book on deliverance and was signed up to receive intercessory prayer... a talk during the meetings made Satan a possibility to me.  But I couldn't finish the book.  I found that blaming Satan for my own weakness of character, my own having missed the mark, is a copout, much like turning over my salvation to the sacrificial gift of Jesus on the cross.  Rather than being personally responsible for my own actions, I merely aligned myself with the good or bad powers that be and let them duke it out.  Also, a list of potential activities/experiences in the book that claim to have possibly let the influence of evil into my life included visiting non-Christian sanctuaries and practicing yoga.  Um, ok.  So our very own popes have been guilty of the first infraction due to their attempts at interreligious dialogue, eh?  And I only hear this nonsense about yoga from people who have never tried it for the physical benefits.  Just because it happens to come from a Hindu tradition doesn't mean it's impossible to do certain poses or breathe in a way that is non-Christian!  This sort of narrow-mindedness brought me back to a level of even-headedness.

I swapped the book for another, on forming intentional disciples of Christ.  The first chapter read like a textbook - something I actually found enticing, given my extended academic history.  What I read was the percentages of people converting into and out of Catholicism, and their reasons.  And what resonated with me was that it made no difference in the bigger scheme of things.  I am coming to the end of reading a series of books on mystical experiences in the world's religions.  I read the Bagavad Gita with interest, though it was certainly a foreign concept to understand the different manifestations of "God" in non-Christian language.  I read the Tibetan Book of the Dead.... correction, I read half of it.  The introductory chapters were very insightful.  The actual meat and potatoes were a series of instuctions and descriptions of realities for those transitioning from this life to the next.  It was so cumbersome that I felt I was reading the same thing over and over again.  I read the Tao Te Ching with a lot more excitement, and everything in it resonated with me... everything except the lack of a personal God.  I read half of the Essential Rumi, and even though I enjoyed the imagery in his poetry, to be honest, I got bored.  I stopped without finishing the entire book.  Then I read the Essential Kabbalah, and again, I was fascinated like with the Tao Te Ching.  Only this time, God was there!  I finished the whole book with delight.  I am now on to rereading The Way of a Pilgrim, a book I ready many years ago, for the Christian rendition of mysticism.

But the reason I bring this up is that the timing of these various books, along with the books and talks stemming from the Called and Gifted workshop, slowly etched a solid realization in my heart. Religion does not hold Truth.  Truth cannot be contained in any one religion.  It cannot be contained period.  It can merely be alluded to, but as soon as we begin to describe God and ultimate reality with words, we do God a disservice.  The Essential Kabbalah said as much, too.

On a whim, as I do every now and again, I viewed a few YouTube videos about conversion to Judaism.  I like to hear other people's stories about their spiritual journeys, and I hadn't spent much time with Judaism before.  I became intrigued.  Later that night, I looked up some basic information on Reform Judaism on my smart phone, as I was waiting for Maya to drift off to sleep.  I don't know why I hadn't given Judaism more thought in the past.  I know that I was always attracted to the simplicity of the theology - that the Jewish God was not Trinitarian.  But being opposed to circumcision on ethical grounds (and from an attachment parenting perspective) I have long assumed that Judaism just wasn't going to work for me.  For one, I wanted any potential conversion to be something we could do as a family, and I knew expecting Alex to get cut was not going to fly, not that I even wanted him to.  Plus, if we ever had a son, I wouldn't cut him, so I just couldn't belong to a religion that expected something I considered cruel.

And then I read that Reform Judaism does not require circumcision of its converts.  It's as if the one stumbling block to even looking into the faith has finally been removed for me.  Once I didn't have that consideration blocking me, I was able to read about the other aspects of Reform Judaism that I am finding very enthralling.

Aspects of Judaism in general that I find interesting (even if some are very small):

1. Mezuzah (a tiny scroll found at the front door of a Jewish home).  In movies I've seen Jews touching it as they entered or left and then putting their fingers to their lips.  This always reminded me of the holy water font in Catholic churches, and I long wanted something like this at my front door, some symbol, some way of reminding myself of God's centrality in my life in this way.

2. Shabbat (the Sabbath).  I respect the way Jews truly honor the Lord's Day, while only few Christians do.  I like the idea of setting aside this time for God and family and nothing else.

3. The importance of study.  Studying the Torah is central to Jewish life, at least to Jews who are not mothers to young children!  Given my extended history of study, the idea that this can be a part of my religion is exciting.

4. The centrality of the family.  As much as I respect the Catholic notion of having various vocations, including the religious celibate life and the single lay celibate life, in addition to marriage, family is where the heart is, after all.

5. The undeniable oneness of God.  I simply cannot get this in a Christian denomination.  No matter how the Trinity is explained, it muddles the oneness of G-d for me. Essentially, G-d cannot be explained, and the Trinity is a human attempt at explaining G-d.


Now, specifically within Reform Judaism, I find the following to be further aspects of interest for me:

1. Circumcision for converts is not required.

2. There is no creed that all Jews must adhere to!  There are broad guidelines, but outside of the basic belief in a single God and the Torah being instructive for our moral life, each individual is to discern faith. Judaism is about practice, not belief.  I love this, because one cannot help what one believes.  However, one does have control over what one does!

3. Torah interpretation is left to individual discernment. Which mitzvohs one follows are likewise left up to one's own discernment.  This includes to what degree one keeps kashrut (kosher).

4. Women and men are more equal - both can be rabbis, for instance.


These aren't all inclusive considerations by any means, just based on my introductory understanding of Judaism and Reform Judaism in particular.  Essentially, I wanted the freedom that comes with Protestantism in terms of discernment of how God wants each individual to live their life, expressed most liberally within Quakerism.  Yet I also love the ritual and mystery I grew up with in Catholicism.  At first glance, it seems that Reform Judaism may be able to provide a bit of both.

I found a synagogue nearby and hope to make it to service this Shabbat.  Alex is down with it, so we'll see.  I've been disillusioned with a faith in the past after visiting their communal worship space. But maybe I've grown in my expectations.  Shalom :)