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.

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 Religious Rock and a Spiritual Hard Place

In my search for "the perfect place of worship", I've come to realize that I cannot make peace between my desire for a racially diverse community and, well, all the other things that are important to me.  Racial diversity among religions tends to be the result of a long-standing tradition with missionary work.  

Seventh Day Adventists, Muslims, and Jehovah's Witnesses top the chart of most diverse religions in the US, each having a significant demographic of at least three different heritages (white, Black, Latino; white, Black, Asian; and white, Black, Latino, respectively). Catholicism ranks just a bit below these, right around the general adult US population, but mostly divided between whites and Latinos. As can be expected, the actual demographics of any particular congregation will be determined by the overall diversity of the region of the country. 

And the faiths I find most resonant with my personal belief-system - Quakers and Unitarian Universalists - rank quite low on the diversity scale, both being overwhelmingly white. (The site above doesn't list Quakers, but from other research and my personal experience, I have found this to be true.)

In no particular order, here is a list of characteristics that I would love to find in a spiritual home community.

Racial and ethnic diversity

LGBTQ rights and feminism

Environmentalism

Pro-Life post-implantation

Inclusivity of Freethinkers

Access to religious service while traveling and geographically local

Meaningful ritual

A Sense of community, especially via small groups

Children's program for religious education

Uplifting music

Beautiful art and architecture

Inspiring sermons

Social justice, including racial justice

Bottom line, the spiritual home I envision and have been searching for simply does not exist. Therefore, I must prioritize the above and choose accordingly.  Nothing is standing in the way of me attending more than one place of worship on a regular basis.  In fact, I already know that this will happen because I have a birthright to Catholicism and a vested interest in Catholicism for the sake of maintaining a cultural link to my daughter's Filipino heritage. That said, my personal spirituality is no longer being nourished in the Catholic church, so I must look elsewhere.

Below is how I would divide the aspects of a religious community that I am looking for.

CATHOLIC

+ Due to universal missions, racial and ethnic diversity is greater than in many other religions.

+ For the same reason, I can count on finding a Catholic mass being celebrated pretty much wherever I travel.  Including local to where I live.

+ The ritual is meaningful for me due to my upbringing.

+? In older churches in particular, beautiful art and architecture are part of the landscape.

+? As for social justice, there is some of that in the Church's stance on immigration, and definitely in terms of poverty, but lacking in terms of the racial component.

? The music and sermons are hit-and-miss, dependent on individual churches, much like the art and architecture.  I've been to some very inspiring churches and some very abysmal ones.

? The Franciscan tradition does take an active interest in environmental issues, but there isn't nearly enough support or interest in these issues church-wide.  I've only ever been to one church that bothered to recycle, and it was a Franciscan parish that was also getting certified by GreenFaith.

? And while I have long agreed with the Pro-Life stance of the Catholic church when it comes to abortion, even the death penalty, I disagree with the way it has been expanded to include restrictions on birth control and fertility treatments.

NON-CATHOLIC

I realize this will need to be specific to the religious community I am considering.  Liberal Quakers and Unitarian Universalists are on my horizon currently.  I've attended services in both traditions, but what will make a difference is the specific places of worship that are local to me.

At least these four tend to be a given in both traditions:

+ LBBTQ rights and feminism

+ Environmentalism

+ Inclusivity of Freethinkers

+ Social justice, including racial justice

Very likely are also these three points:

+? A Sense of community, especially via small groups

+? Children's program for religious education

+? Geographically local

The rest of these will need to be analyzed on a case-by-case basis

Uplifting music.  I've only been to one unprogrammed (liberal) Quaker meeting where they had music, and it can hardly be said to be "uplifting".  I have better chances of hearing inspiring music at my own Catholic church.  Unprogrammed meetings do not tend to include music, period.

Beautiful art and architecture.  Part of the value-system of Quakerism is simplicity, and so generally speaking, the meethinghouses are not meant to inspire and uplift but to be humble and non-distracting.

Inspiring sermons.  Again, unprogrammed Quaker meetings do not have prepared sermons.  There may be spoken testimony by anyone present.... or there may not be.  In that sense, it's a very individual-based worship service.

Overall, what I remember liking about Quaker faith were the values and beliefs as well as social justice outreach - all things that I can easily carry with me into the UU church.  But three things I definitely have a better chance finding inside the UU church are sermons, music, and art/architecture. Perhaps the music won't be gregorian chant or gospel music - two of my favorite styles of religious music.  And the art and architecture found in old Catholic and Orthodox churches would be hard to find elsewhere.  But at least I can hope to glean some insights relevant to my spiritual walk from the sermons, since I know they won't be based on the assumption of original sin.

And the aspects of UU churches that I remember not really jiving with me were the service not being particularly meaningful because of lack of the ritual familiar to me, as well as no objection to abortion.  What it is coming down to is a matter of prioritizing.  So here goes.

Most important in a potential spiritual community for me:

1. A Sense of community, especially via small groups (the ability to get to know a manageable group of like-minded individuals where I can express my spiritual beliefs and gain insights without fear of judgment or the expectation of conformity)

2. LGBTQ rights and feminism (I need to qualify that by feminism I do not mean what has become of modern feminists, where essentially women think they should be able to get away with abortion on demand in the name of "equal rights" [um, because men do have access to abortion-on-demand??], or where women who chose to dress modestly or stay home with their children in lieu of a career are seen as enemies of the movement.  As for LGBTQ, for a long time now I have been a sympathizer with LGBTQ rights to equal treatment under the law, and nothing short of that is acceptable to me, no matter the archaic scriptural reasoning.)

3. Environmentalism.  (I've been accused of being un-Christian, back when I identified as Christian, for my concern and focus on green issues.  I kid you not.  Disgusting to think that God cares more about the afterlife than the life we are living right now.)

4. Social Justice, including racial justice. (After getting hung up on the racial/ethnic diversity aspect, I now realize that who the members are is one thing, but providing meaningful support to those of all backgrounds, even those who are not members of one's church, is another.  [Yes, a diverse demographic would be better able to provide racial mirrors for my daughter.  But that's why I intend to continue with Catholic Filipino mass. My commitment to helping her build a healthy self-identity cannot be outsourced to an activity we do once a month though, and once a week would be no better. From the Filipino mass, I need to branch out into the various events and make meaningful friendships for the sake of my daughter.]  Equally important is to actually work towards peace and justice in the world.)

5. Inclusivity of Freethinkers.  (This is essentially the reason my spirituality cannot be contained by the Catholic identity.)

6. Inspiring sermons.  (While I like to think that I think for myself, I also enjoy learning from others whose experiences and knowledge surpass my own.)

7. Children's program for religious education. (How I want to raise my daughter in terms of spirituality is never far from my mind.  While I think she will most likely go through the typical Catholic rites of passage of First Communion/Confession, I also want her to have access to non-Catholic/Christian beliefs in order to make an educated decision for herself when she grows up.)

8. Meaningful ritual. (I realize that this will involve some compromise on my part, having to be open-minded to a new normal.  What used to resonate with me about the mystery of the Eucharist within the Catholic mass no longer does so, except in a more intellectual manner.  So I need to be open to totally new rituals that express what I actually do believe and want to stand for.)

9. Uplifting music.  (I can always hope.  And if I don't find this, there's always the internet and concerts for me to find music as a part of my personal spiritual practice.  I don't need to always expect to be entertained by wonderful music when I gather for worship.)

10. Beautiful art and architecture.  (While I do think there is value in helping us lift our thoughts to things greater than us via various art expressions, the lack of such expressions should not be reason for me to stay away.  I've found just as much inspiration out in nature as I have in expensively adorned churches.)

11. Racial and ethnic diversity.  (So this is what prompted me to write this post.  My conclusion is that I cannot reasonably expect my local place of worship to look like a chapel at an international airport, as much as I would love that.  I need to have enough dimensions to my life, enough connections, that between the various activities and friends I have the diversity I desire, both for myself and especially for my daughter.)

12. Pro-Life post-implantation.  (There is a whole pro-life movement that is not affiliated with any particular religion.  If I felt truly dedicated to the cause, I could always join in its efforts.  The fact that I have only sporadically been involved with the March for Life and 40 Days for Life shows that I can hardly call myself dedicated, nor can I blame my religious community for my lack of deeper involvement.)

13. Access to religious service while traveling and geographically local.  (So I can reasonably get to the closest UU church from where I live without much of a commute, and when I travel, I can always attend Catholic mass and benefit from the various other aspects of spiritual inspiration that I find more so among Catholic churches anyway, like the architecture and art.)

The next step is to attend my local UU church.  Attend a few times.  Attend with an open mind. Attend not so that I can see if the label "UU" fits me, but attend to see if I see myself contributing to - and benefiting from - the spiritual community available there.  This is actually much different from my previous attempts at "finding a spiritual home", which were always based on a search for an apt label for myself.  I think my current labels would remain the same - cultural/birthright Catholic, Deist, Spiritually Independent.  If I do find a sense of community in the UU church, I'd only be adding to this list of labels, not replacing any of them.  My spirituality is my own responsibility, not the church where I attend.  Hopefully this attitude will serve me well on my journey.

To Stay or to Go, Spiritually Speaking

My problem is that I grew up having my intellect praised, and this has led me to believe that I can figure all things out myself.  I have applied this same fallacy to my spirituality.  I'm scared of embracing a religious identity unless and until I feel fully aligned with it, but in reality, this is an impossibility.  The point of a spiritual practice is not perfection so much as, well, practice.  Right?  It means that a certain approach is most conducive to myself growing spiritually.  And a religious label at its core provides a neat and clear framework from which to gather my spiritual practice.  If I were truly comfortable with a "spiritually independent" identity, I would actually have a spiritual practice that simply didn't fit exactly into any one religious framework.  But instead, I have inklings and desires, but no commitment for fear of appropriating a religious identity when I feel I haven't earned it.

I give myself permission to call myself a Catholic because it's what I grew up with and what's most familiar and where I'm officially affiliated.  Yet I find myself increasingly more uncomfortable in Catholic settings where the goal is to grow spiritually, and not just to come together in corporal worship.  At mass, I may stay silent on proclamations that don't ring true for me, and I may have personal interpretation of the various rites that I find meaningful.  But in a small group setting, something Alex and I have been embarking on lately, I am directly being asked to share my inner faith.

On one hand, I cannot lie and go with what everyone else is saying, as that would be disingenuous to the purpose of such a group. On the other hand, if I'm completely honest regarding where I am on my journey, I worry about scandalizing others or rocking their own faith, neither of which sounds like an appropriate use of a small group.

For years now I've returned over and over again to the Religious Society of Friends, and each time I say that this time I'm going to formally join a meeting.  Each time I question why I haven't already done so.  And each time I come across some criticism of Liberal Quakerism by more mainstream Christian Quakers, or the more Christian Quaker stance on homosexuality puts a stop to my considering any flavor other than Liberal Quakerism within the RSF.

I'm indecisive.  I'm anxious.  I'm a perfectionist.  I care about what other people think of me. But alas, haven't I learned by now that I will never please everyone?  If my goal is to please all Quakers, I cannot succeed.  Some will say I'm not Christian enough (which I'm not), others will say the social justice stance of the more mainstream Christian Quakers isn't aligned enough with the values taught by Jesus.  So no, I cannot please all Quakers.

Just like I cannot please all Catholics.  Some would tell me to stay at all costs, for it's only inside the church that I have access to the Sacraments, and therefore have any hope in growing in my faith. Others would tell me that I give Catholics a bad name, and that if I don't even ascribe to the Nicene creed, I have no business in the RCC.  I'm Ok with not pleasing all Catholics.  It took a long time, but I'm OK with that.  What I'm struggling with now is that I have a renewed interest in spiritual development, and the Christian Catholic language being used interferes with my spiritual growth.  Yet I know I cannot grow in isolation.

I'm off to email my one time Quaker spiritual adviser.  I cannot figure this out on my own.

Edited:  Alas, it seems that my one-time Quaker spiritual adviser is no longer actively offering this ministry.

My problem is that I want answers and I want them now.  I know what I have to do.  I must pose a specific question to the Lord, and then patiently bring it to prayer and await God's leading.  The problem is that I don't know what exactly my question is.

What should I call myself?  What religious identity does God want for me?  Should I focus on finding a way to be Catholic unorthodoxically?  Should I convert officially to Quakerism by requesting membership in a meeting?  Ok, so maybe I do know what my underlying question is.

Lord, should I focus on finding a way to be Catholic unorthodoxically, or should I request membership in a Quaker meeting?  I am not going to rush your answer.  I know it may take all year, even longer.  I know that the more time I spend listening to you, the quicker the answer will be given to me.  Thank you.

So for now, I guess I adopt the Quaker spiritual practice of expectant worship in my personal prayer life, while continuing to worship corporeally with Catholics.

Honing Down on a Spiritual Practice

How can I at once be drawn to the person of Jesus and simultaneously ambivalent (at best) to the religion I believe best represents the movement He supposedly started?  I've been looking for a spiritual practice where I can base my values on Jesus, because they're familiar and resonate with me as true.  Yet at the same time, I didn't feel comfortable in a spiritual practice drenched in the concepts of original sin, being hell-bound, human sacrifice to appease a vengeful god, and suffering as the new happiness.  You know, Christianity.

I knew Islam claims to respect Jesus, even Mary, but really, there is nothing in their practice based on Jesus as a central figure.  Obviously Judaism is either ambivalent or downright antagonistic towards the figure of Jesus.  Lots of comparisons can be found between Jesus and Buddha (Sidhrtha Gautama), but no Buddhist follows Jesus; rather, they take refuge in the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha.  Buddhists do not take refuge in the Christ.  Some of the newer movements sparked my interest too, but ever so briefly.  The Unitarian Universalists and the Baha'i in particular.  But there was something gnawing at me to put my faith in an ancient tradition.

In fact, while in high school, a Japanese exchange student once asked me why I was a Catholic (she was an atheist).  I remember giving her a very simplistic reason.  Catholicism was the original Christianity, which was born from the oldest religion, ie. Judaism, therefore must be true.  Something lame like that.  Never mind that I now know that Hinduism is actually the world's oldest religion.

Apparently there may be room for what I'm looking for, for someone like me, within the Hindu tradition.  Apparently, Jesus (as Ishu) is an actual prominent figure for some Hindus, who look to Him as their guru.  Could it be that I could follow the example and teachings of Jesus outside of Christianity after all?

I've always held a very childish idea of God.  Something like a cross between a genie and Santa Clause.  He's all-powerful, so he can grant any wish to anyone, if only he desires.  But he is also just in that if I've been bad, I will not get what's on my wishlist.  Even though I would mouth the words that God is all-powerful, having this very fantastical view of him automatically limited him to, well, the realm of fantasy.  I think this is why I struggled with the Trinity.  There was no need for the Son and the Spirit, if we already had the Santa-Genie God.  I just couldn't phathom their purpose in my worldview.

Lately, I've become more and more aware of the fact that my view of God has changed, has become less and less graspable, less personal and more transcendent.  God's physical body (that which occupied my mind) dissolved and enveloped the entire universe (or multiverse).  He is now barely detectable, yet still undeniably there.  But he doesn't sit down to converse with people anymore.  He doesn't engage in our petty human tit-for-tat.  He doesn't waste time (sic!) weighing our good deeds against our bad deeds, or lamenting the fact that His perfect plan for a utopian universe went to hell when He allowed us free will.

No, these are human traits, human stories, human explanations.  God simply is.  He is in the business of creating, sustaining, breathing life into living beings, transforming dying creatures into something strictly spiritual.  He sees the big picture and doesn't fret over disasters like we do.  He knows everything is temporary because that's the way He made it.  Only His eternal creativity is eternal.  We call it love, that God is love, because we all want to be loved, and what better boost to our self-confidence than to believe the Almighty loves us.  But love - the way I have understood and experienced it - automatically means favoring someone over someone else.  We marry the person we love, not everyone.  We prefer our own children to those of others because we love our children and only like other people's kids (if that!).  As with everything else, without a contrast, nothing stands on its own.  God loving me makes no sense if He equally loves everyone else.  Then it's not really love, is it?  It's something more mundane, less intense and passionate.  Again, God created everything to have an opposite.  Love is one of those wonderful gifts He created and gave us.  Love is how we can feel secure while in this earthly realm of ours.  We cannot imagine God not loving us, yet it's exactly what I think limits Him in our minds.

So, if God-the-Creator is not so much personal as the Universal Force, then it starts to make sense why Christians came up with the concept of the Trinity.  The Holy Spirit is the very breath we breathe, our inspiration, that which carries us from moment to moment until we are ready to be reunited with our Divine Source.  And Jesus is a way for us to have a God who loves us.  Jesus the historical figure, didn't tell people "God loves you".  He did say "love one another as I have loved you", but He didn't say "I love you because God loves me.  Pass it on."  He took the mysterious power of God and translated it into something we both longed for and could understand.  He loved us.  Even this is problematic, if we believe that Jesus is God and/or that Jesus loves everyone.  We're then back to the dilemma of no contrast to His love.  If He loves us, whom does He not love?  Aha! Enter Satan!  Jesus hates Satan.  Satan is our enemy.  We fight against Satan by siding with Jesus.

Only I've never really been on board with the whole Satan concept.  It implies a duality beyond the source.  Either the Divine Source had within it evil that split into Satan, or it was a separate entity all along, which begs the question, how can there be two sources?

On the one hand, I say that theology shouldn't matter so long as morality and ethics are there.  On the other hand, I cannot imagine a spiritual practice bringing me peace and joy if I am not convinced that it is based on, and leading me to, truth.  I've tried the whole "fake it till you make it" approach, which may work for some people, or in some circumstances, but a spiritual practice just seems to be too important for me to approach it willy-nilly.

I cannot imagine going through the rest of my life without spirituality playing a central role, but I have to embrace something that brings me peace and joy and motivates me to live like Jesus taught.

I know this means I have to start spending daily time in silence, preferably in nature but not necessarily, in order to just allow myself to decompress from the constant noise in my mind.  With time, I'll want to increase the length of this silence until I give myself enough time to not just quiet my mind, but allow inspiration to enter.  I may need to chant or count breaths or lean on some other crutch at first in order to keep busy thoughts at bay.  I've found in the past that yoga is a great way for me to focus on the present moment.  I need to start doing yoga regularly, ending with a period of silent sitting, having given myself a chance to detox from the noise of the every day.

I also need to choose a few of my all-time favorite spiritual songs and listen to them and/or sing them, again, on a daily basis.  This will give me something positive and uplifting to focus on, especially when I am drowning in worry or negativity.  Perhaps a few songs before yoga, followed by meditation?

One thing I know is that I cannot allow myself to think that reading or writing can take the place of my spiritual practice.  I've tried spiritual journaling and Lectio Divina, and while they are both good resources, I think they can at best be supplements to the spiritual practice I've outlined above.

So I will begin this week with five minutes of singing/listening to music, five minutes of yoga, and five minutes of meditation  (Quakers would call it waiting worship).  I will squeeze these in whenever I can, by next week shooting for combining them into a single 15-minute stretch of time.  Then I'll revisit the practice after a week.

Perhaps if I click "publish", I will feel obligated to really give it a go...

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.

Deepening My Spirituality (Instead of Trying to Define It)

I received a request for prayer from a friend yesterday.  I waited until today to respond.  The reason? My immediate reaction was, "should I tell him I'm a Deist, and thus no longer pray the way he would expect from a fellow Catholic?'  But today I was moved to respond, "I'm holding [your request] in the light," the way Quakers lift up prayer requests.  It felt right to respond in this way.  If he comes back asking for why I used such terminology, I can get into the details then.  If he says it sounds like I'm Quaker, I'll say "thanks."

I will be attending an overnight Catholic women's retreat soon.  I love retreats, although generally I opt for silent Ignatian retreats, which allow plenty of alone time and time in nature.  Not sure this will compare.  I'm concerned that I will face my "former Catholicism" head on during this retreat.  I already know I will not be participating in their sacrament of reconciliation, and I'll be leaving to come home before their ending Mass begins.  I hope I won't have to share much and can just listen for nuggets of God's speaking to me through others, and then reflect alone as much as possible.  If asked, I can honestly say that I attend such-and-such Catholic church, because I do.  Though it does not mean I am Catholic anymore.

I think one of the most difficult things about this transition is being critically aware of the wording associated with holidays, spirituality, and God.  I can no longer just mouth what I'm used to mouthing if it holds no truth to me.  And I need to give myself time to come into my own as a Deist (does deist need to be capitalized?!) so that as my daughter grows, I'll be better prepared to navigate her "religious upbringing" with my husband.

The more I think about being a Deist, the more I wonder why I hadn't embraced the term much sooner, as soon as I learned about it.  I think I know.  It had a lot to do with my need for external validation.  But I live in such a pluralistic society that I see now that no matter what one person may validate for me, someone else may very well counter.  In other words, I can't please everyone.  Nor is that my job.

I hope that as a Deist, I'll be able to go back to celebrating Christmas and Easter without worrying about the Christian overtones... I was really on the fence this past year with both holidays, as I didn't know how to find meaning in them.  I think I may revisit some Pagan practices, actually.  I spent two years as a Pagan - one actively practicing and the second just sort of waiting for the next phase in my spiritual development.  During that time, I came to appreciate nature more, and it was one of the things that attracted me to the religion.  That and the feminine divine, but now I see God as a transcendent being, non-person, gender-less, so I don't need a reactionary Deity to counter my patriarchal upbringing's Father God.

The more I think about what it means to me to be a Deist, the more I think, "it's just so simple.  So uncomplicated.  So pure and minimalist."  I'm looking outside my window and catch a glimpse of leaves swaying in the breeze, and I realize that I'm having a "spiritual moment".  Here's my religion. I just attended a brief religious service, having merely glanced outside.  I look beyond the trees and sit still enough to notice the barely moving clouds in the bright blue sky, and I think, "there's God." And I see the sunshine on my windowsill, and think, "here, too."  :)

I love to read.  I recently realized that reading "counts" as a hobby (!).  And what does Deism encourage?  Reading, study, learning.  That is one of the main ways to get to know God.  (The other is observing nature.)  I'm glad I'm done looking, and can now spend my time on deepening my spirituality instead of on trying to define it.

Us and Them Implied in Religious Affiliation

I've been giving some more thought to the idea of officially becoming a Quaker, and I think I am right to resist.  While I certainly feel at home with Quaker theology, terminology, practice, and social teaching, "joining" the Religious Society of Friends would create a false dichotomy in my view of the world.  The fact that there is a formal membership process means there is a divide between those who are convinced of the truth, as seen by Quakers, and those who either are not convinced, have not been exposed to it, or simply do not wish to make that final jump into membership for whatever reason.

Knowing myself, I would allow the Quaker label to carry the heavy lifting for me.  I would expect - to some degree - to ride on the coattails of Quakers who have gone before me.  I would outsource the heavy lifting of wrestling with ultimate questions such as the meaning of my life to what has already been said about it by other Quakers, just because I assume that we would be in agreement.

When I thought philosophical Taoism was a valid option for me, one of the very things that appealed to me was that it wasn't about membership, but rather a simple realization that one was already a Taoist.  Except that this is a Western interpretation of an ancient Chinese religion, a watering down of a tradition that is not part of my European heritage.

Certainly, both Taoism and Quakerism can inform my moral judgment and approach to daily living. But resisting the urge to take on one or the other as a religious affiliation means that I can continue to benefit from the wisdom of both... and the many other traditions in the world.

I think it is my white privilege showing through when I feel I should be able to associate myself with a tradition based on partial commonality that it and I share.  I think this even applies to the label of Catholic.  I had previously discussed how Catholicism is a birthright religious tradition for me as a Pole.  I think that's a fancy way of calling myself a Cultural Catholic, and even if I stand by this being a good enough reason to continue to affiliate myself with the religious tradition of my upbringing, is it being authentic to myself?

If I say, "I am Catholic", what does that bring up in the minds of other people and does it matter to me?  Some may assume that I believe certain things about the nature of God and humanity, when in fact I don't.  Some may expect me to hold certain political opinions when in fact I do not.  Some may think I am riddled with the classic Catholic guilt (something I am actually trying to heal from), or follow certain practices such as abstaining from meat on Fridays (a pre-Vatican II tradition).

If I say, "I am Catholic", observant Catholics will assume that I am one of them and be mortified to find out I am not.  Cultural Catholics and non-Catholics may go either way - take me for an observant Catholic or only apply surface definitions to me.  No matter whom I'd be talking to, calling myself a Catholic would be sidestepping a bigger question.

If my personal religion calls for me to stand for something, and I am not ashamed to stand for this, then shouldn't my label be representative of that belief, even if it is little known to others?

Maybe that is why I have gone back and forth about calling myself a Deist.  I don't expect most people to actually know what that means.  Therefore, if I actually label myself a Deist, I expect follow-up questions:  "What does that mean?  What do you believe?  How does being a Deist inform your approach to life?"  And maybe I haven't quite worked out all the details there, so I don't want to set myself up to announce to someone that I am a Deist and, when asked what that entails, give them an awkward stare and stutter something about not having figured it out yet.

Surely a Deist who doesn't really know what it means to be a Deist isn't going to be a good representation of Deism.  And even though no formal membership is required to call oneself a Deist, I do feel an obligation not to drag a philosophical outlook on life through the mud due to my own ignorance.

Ok, so how would I answer the follow up questions above about being a Deist?

What does that mean?
Deism is a natural religion, meaning that it is based on reason and observation of nature.  It simply states that through observing nature and using our reasoning abilities, everyone can determine that God exists.  There is no need for revelation to a prophet, sacred scriptures, or blind faith to convince people that God exists.  I know God exists because I see his handiwork everywhere in nature.

What do you believe?
I believe that God created the entire known universe, all of nature, including human beings.  I also believe that who we are at our core essence is immortal, though I cannot know any more details beyond that.  I am comfortable knowing that I come from the Eternal Creator, and that I continue on in some form after my physical death.

How does being a Deist inform your approach to life?
For starters, I believe that God's design in nature is perfect and doesn't need human interpretation or projection of ideas.  I don't believe there is a need to judge everything as being "either/or", since everything has its counterpart in nature.  This includes issues of morality.  I do not believe in abstract categories of good and evil actions.  I believe the same action in different circumstances can be either good or bad.  Therefore, I do not believe in judging others.  (Do I fall short of this?  Of course!)  My aim is to be like the forces of nature - to go with the flow, be flexible, don't dwell on the past or worry about the future, enjoy the journey, learn to adapt from my surroundings.

I suppose there can be a plethora of further follow up questions, more specific and ones based on presuppositions of the inquirer's own religious assumptions, but I cannot sit at home behind closed doors until I figure out the perfect answer to every foreseeable question. And to be honest, not many people have asked me these questions - ok, no one has ever asked me these questions.  Maybe because so far I have hidden behind the label of "Catholic" and allowed people to draw their own conclusions.  People assume they know what it means for me to be Catholic, or at least what they think it SHOULD mean, and so there is no need for these questions.  But once I come out as a Deist, I have to be prepared to face these questions.  And it's OK.

I'm blessed to live in a society where there is freedom of religion.  Perhaps the time has come for me to embrace my label, accept what I have known for over a year now, and take my own advice and not worry about the details.  If others want to call me Catholic still, fine - cultural, lapsed, or otherwise. Heretic, even?  Ok.  My ultimate authority comes from the author of the universe, the author of life itself.  My source of authority transcends human authority, human revelation, human organization, human interpretation, human limitation.  I have no reason to fear mere mortals.  All that is at stake is my ego, something that is a temporary illusion anyway, and not my true self.

What remains to be determined - if indeed it actually needs to be determined - is if there should be some sort of announcement that follows to let my circle of friends know where I stand, so there's no awkward assumptions based on past beliefs and practices that I need to correct as they come up.  Or, perhaps I should just move on, and address any such awkwardness as it comes.  It may be best for me to no longer hide from the truth of my personal religion.  To stand up and face my life, not as a fake Catholic but as a real Deist.

Religion and Cultural Appropriation

Well, I wasn't a Taoist for long.  Last night I read a great article on a Taoist approach to parenting, and that site somehow led me to an academic site which pointed out that the concept of a "Philosophical Taoism" is, well, not a thing.  This is an appropriation of the Chinese Religious Taoism by Westerners who have a desire to utilize the label without all the religious "baggage" (as I would've put it) that goes along with it.  As I read about this, I realized that I could not in good conscience use this label for myself, as it would only perpetuate colonialist and orientalist mentalities of taking something belonging to another culture and stripping it of various cultural aspects to make it "one's own".  This is simply unacceptable to me since I didn't want to use the label "Catholic" - to which I have a birthright affiliation - because I knew in good conscience that it meant something to those who actually adhere to the faith.

As I looked over my spiritual journey, I noticed that I found myself going farther and farther away from where I started, and that this actually had much greater implications for my identity.  I've been guilty of exoticising eastern culture, philosophy, and religion, and thinking it was OK because I saw it in a positive light.  But nonetheless I was othering it, and appropriating bits and pieces without valuing the whole.

I found myself saying quietly the following words to myself as I lay in bed:  It's OK that I'm a Westerner.  It's OK that I'm white.  It's OK that I'm Polish.... It's OK that I'm cisgender.  It's OK that I'm straight...  It's OK that I'm middle-class.  It's OK that I'm educated.  It's OK that I'm able-bodied. ... Essentially, It's OK that I am who I am, even if who I am is "boring".  There's the rub.  I've looked outside of myself for religious labels, for identity (I've argued against being labeled "white", saying instead that I identify with immigrants at large), for something that would make me as interesting as I saw these other groups being.  But why?  What in my experience told me that I wasn't just as OK being who I am?

As a child immigrant, I lost the community of my birth.  Being raised by immigrant parents whose personality and circumstances didn't allow a replacement community, I never felt a sense of belonging growing up.  In order not to risk having to admit that I may be rejected by any community I tried to join, I actively set myself out to be a lone wolf.  I technically complained about not having a community to belong to, but to be honest, I don't want to belong to a community.  Belonging comes at a price.  Belonging would mean adherence to a set of norms, values, priorities that benefit the group whether I personally agree or not.  Belonging meant a loss of freedom.

And so I came to realize that my spiritual journey as well as my recent desire to try to fit into some sort of ethnic community are stemming from the same place.  I was disappointed when I recently found out via a DNA test that I do not have Roma ancestry, like I had thought/hoped due to my slightly darker coloring.  I was disappointed!  I was disappointed to be who I actually am!

All my life I've sided with the underdog, rooting for those who were considered minorities in society. I let it get to a point where I started to develop an internalized hatred for those parts of me that were in common with the oppressors of these groups.  Generally, it was Christian whites.  But what if I actually applied something of the Tao to where I'm at without appropriating the label for myself? What if I just accept who I am as I am, and seek the balance within the context of my own Western identity and religion?  What if I simply find the pearls of wisdom to reflect on within the scriptures of my own Western religious tradition?

I seem to be back at square one.  My choices are: 1) call myself "nonreligious" or more specifically "Deist" and leave it at that; 2) call myself "Catholic" regardless if other Catholics would grant me the use of that label or not; 3) call myself some other religious affiliation, which would require officially joining their community (Quakers come to mind).

Why do I need a label, really?  Is it just because I grew up with a religious label and I feel naked without one?  And why am I obsessed with the label having to be perfectly lined up with what the majority of fellow adherents believe?  Am I worried about being rejected, so I try to opt out preemptively so that I don't have to deal with rejection?

What does it matter to me what other people think about how I choose to identify myself?  I can only imagine the turmoil this would cause me if I were transgender and had to hear people tell me I was confused.  In my case, yes, I am confused.  But it's my own doing.

If I call myself nonreligious and someone "accuses" me of being an atheist, I can correct them by saying I'm a Deist.  Or I can just start with that label.  Previously I thought I also needed a religously-based moral outline and spiritual practice.  But really, I don't.  I can be a Deist who bases her morality on a simple scripture quote from my very own birthright religious affiliation:  Luke 6:31 (Matthew 7:12) :  "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."  It actually matches the three jewels of Taoism that I've taken to heart:  simplicity, humility, compassion.  The scripture is simple in that it's concise and easy to apply to any situation.  It follows compassion in that it forces one to consider the perspective of the other.  It serves humility in that one cannot be self-involved if one is thinking of the needs of others.  Ok, so there you have it, my moral outline, straight from my own religious tradition, without cultural appropriation or misrepresenting another religion.  

If I call myself "Catholic", it would be because of my ethnicity, my upbringing, my having received the Sacraments, the fact that I attend a Catholic church regularly, my familiarity and affinity to various Catholic traditions, my celebration of Catholic holy days and holy seasons, my familiarity with Catholic lingo, and my having symbols of Catholicism in my home.  It's true that faithful, conservative, traditional, believing Catholics would tell me these things do not make me a Catholic. But I do not need their approval.  That's the whole point!  They may think I'm fooling myself, and that's fine.  I don't believe in their version of the Truth, so I'm not worried about "reprecussions" of not "returning to the fold of believers".  If anything, I'm a bit concerned about misrepresenting the religious faith of Catholicism, but let's be honest.  The pope himself has been accused - by other Catholics! - that he's "not Catholic enough".  If Catholicism isn't about serving others, bettering ourselves, and being in awe of our Creator, then it's only a mythology, scare tactics, and rituals.  But if Catholicism is indeed about being in awe of our Creator, bettering ourselves, and serving others, then I belong to this Catholicism, and therefore have every right to call myself a Catholic.

I know some may say that I could use this same logic to just wake up one day and say that I'm Jewish, or Muslim, because these faiths at their core stand for the same things.  But the difference is that I don't have a birthright affiliation with these other faiths.  I do have a birthright affiliation with Catholicism.  And what's more, maybe that's the point - that at their core, religions are all about the same three things:  self-improvement, compassion, and reverence for God.  And if that's the case, it really doesn't matter what religious label one slaps on, if at all.

Regarding spiritual practice, I've found that I absolutely do not follow nor desire to follow any Catholic spiritual practices, perhaps with the exception of Lectio Divina and contemplative meditation (which has also been accused of not being Christian!).  But do I need to practice Catholic spirituality - and only Catholic spirituality - in order to call myself Catholic?  I say no.  I say the point of these practices is to better oneself, help others, and revere God.  If a practice - Catholic or otherwise - doesn't do this, why bother?  And if a practice - Catholic or not - does do this, I'd be a fool not to utilize it. 

The third option above - officially switching religious affiliation - is the least likely for me.  As I've mentioned, I do not desire a community, and switching affiliation would imply that I am joining a community.  I am happy to learn about other traditions but don't want to do so under duress or to the exclusion of other traditions.  If I truly believe that religion is about revering God, improving oneself, and serving others, then there's no reason to switch if I am already affiliated with my birthright religious tradition.

The path of lease resistance is to do nothing - wu-wei in the Taoist sense - and allow that to be the most fruitful path.

My spiritual life is and will continue to be as follows:  attend Catholic church, study various traditions, apply various philosophies to my life, look for the commonalities among the different paths, and when someone asks, have a label that is both informative and authentic.  I'm reminded of another scripture verse: 1 Peter 3:15 "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that is in you."  Of course, Christians interpret this verse to mean that Jesus - and the whole salvific story - are the answer, and accordingly "Christian" is the label that sums it up.  But I stand at a crossroads where I need to take ownership of my own spirituality.  I need to stop outsourcing it to the interpretation of others.  Yes, many are much more learned than me in issues of theology.  That does not mean they have a closer grasp at the nature of God than me. Society, which values academics and formal education, would argue that it does mean that.  I choose to disagree.

Given the above description of my spiritual life, the choice remains between embracing the label of "Catholic" once again, willing to let it mean what it means to me without worrying about what it means to others, OR choosing the label "Deist", which prevents the conflict with believing Catholics at the cost of distancing myself from my birthright religious tradition.  I will need to ponder which of these options is the one that will serve me best.  My husband has opted for embracing the Catholic label without worrying about the implications.  I am tempted to join him, as it would simplify things. Then again, he still uses Christian terminology and concepts that fly in the face of his claims to be spiritually independent.  I'm tempted to actually be spiritually independent and call myself a Deist, full stop.  Time will tell.

I Stand Corrected! I Have Found My Way!

There IS a label for my spirituality, and I'm going to go out on a limb and just shout it from the rooftops that I have realized that I am a Taoist!  I just took beliefnet.com's belief-o-matic religion quiz, which I've taken numerous times over the years, and it confirmed my recent insight: 100% Taoist!

It's funny, but soon after writing my last blog about how I've accepted that my label is "Deist" with supplementation of Quaker testimonies and Buddhist practices, I was reading on a Deist site where several members commented that they felt disillusioned with having accepted the label of Deist for themselves.  As in, "Ok, so I'm a Deist.  Now what?"  There's nothing in the way of morality and practice that comes with the philosophical standing of being a Deist. Someone mentioned in passing a comparison of their personal stance to Taoism, and a lightbulb went off.  I remember studying Taoism - why hadn't I revisited it recently?!

The first thought I had, actually, was that Deism and Taoism in terms of belief in God is essentially the same thing said with different words, which makes sense considering the drastically different cultures and timeframes each came from.  In the West, we are used to talking about God as a personal entity, and Deism's description of God is a reaction to this notion.  In Taoism, the Tao could be said to be "God".  The difference is that by not calling that ultimate reality "God", there isn't the temptation to personify it and, what naturally follows, worship it.  I think worship is meant to honor God and show our gratitude, but I think the best way to do that is through the way we live our lives, not through lipservice and gestures done ritually to make us feel religious.

The second thought I had after Taoism reentered my consciousness was to compare the three jewels of Taoism with the four testimonies of Quakerism.  I was fairly comfortable with the Quaker testimonies of peace, equality, integrity, and simplicity.  But as I reflected on the three jewels of Taoism - compassion, humility, and simplicity (or frugality) - I realized that the Taoists actually got an even more simplified version of the basic moral principles I seek to live by.

If you have compassion for others, you will automatically work towards peace and equality.  You will be truthful because it's the right thing to do and doing otherwise may harm others, thus not being compassionate.  If you cultivate humility, you will naturally lean towards compassion, and you will see others as equal to you rather than looking down on them.  You will desire peace because war only comes from a place of egotistic desires for control.  If you are humble, you will be honest with yourself and have no reason to withhold the truth from others.  And if you maintain simplicity, this ties your humility and compassion together.  Stay simple in terms of how you view yourself, don't exaggerate truth, don't complicate relationships with hierarchies or conflict, and take only what you need.  In essence, if you're compassionate, humble, and simple, you automatically live a life of peace, equality, integrity, and obviously simplicity.

The last thought I had was comparing the aim of Taoism with that of Buddhism.  Interestingly, Buddhism presupposes a negative state of being - that life is suffering - and the goal of Buddhist practice is to transcend that reality.  Taoism merely observes suffering as a balancing opposite to pleasure, embraces the reality of there being bad as well as good in the world, acknowledges that good and evil are constructs that often do not actually translate to being inherently good or bad, but rather good or bad in a certain circumstance, to a certain person, while possibly being the opposite to someone else or in another set of circumstances.

To me, Taoism is really about acceptance.  I think every other religion I've studies has found a problem to work out.  Every other religion tries to fix something, thus inevitably leading to a subconscious focus on negativity, either in ourselves or others.  Taoism is about balance.  It's the ultimate non-judgmental religion (though I hesitate to use that term, since I subscribe to the philosophical bend of Taoism, not the religious).

The most beautiful thing about realizing I'm a Taoist is that all it took for me to "become" a Taoist is to realize that I am!  To have found the label I've been looking for, to apply it to myself, and to move on to finding balance in my life with the assistance of Taoist philosophy.  I don't need external validation to confirm that indeed I am a Taoist.  Much like with being a Deist.  But unlike being a Deist, there is a moral base and a goal I can aspire to, as well as spiritual practices based on the underlying belief in the Tao.  It's a full package: belief, morality, and spiritual practice.

So hello world!  The irony of Jesus's words does not escape me.  He said "I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6).  And when looked at under the layers of personifcation and taking metaphors literally, this is indeed a beautifully simple statement.  Tao = the way.  Full stop.  No interpretation follows.  No scriptural references needed.  Look around, look within, that is where the way is.  Follow it!

Letting Go of Religious Labels

I have been struggling over the past year + with how I should be identifying myself in terms of my religious views, which have changed drastically since the birth of my daughter nearly 20 months ago. I have long associated the religion of my upbringing - Catholicism - with my ethnicity and country of birth - Poland.  I spent the majority of my life so far as a cultural Catholic, but in my late teens I began a spiritual journey which eventually led me to become a revert to Catholicism, albeit only temporarily.  In the process, I brought my husband into an embrace of the Catholic faith, or at least his flavor of it.  So when I realized last year that I suddenly no longer believed what the Catholic church taught, I began to search - again - for a replacement religion.

However, I now see that I haven't been completely authentic with myself.  I have been making excuses for why I "have to" find a replacement religious label, why I "have to" belong to a worship community.  A few days ago I thought I had "finally" - for the umpteenth time - found the community I had been looking for in Buddhism.  Decades ago I already identified as a "Cabudhsit" (Catholic Buddhist).  I long held an interest in martial arts, yoga, meditation, feng shui, and various other Eastern philosophies.  But what always put the breaks on my pursuit of Buddhism was their lack of belief in God.  I may have had my doubts and disbeliefs when it came to organized religion, but to doubt the existence of God was just going too far for me.

Yet as I began to read - again - about what Buddhism was all about, I started to contemplate the usual questions: how do I become a Buddhist?  When can I officially say that I'm a Buddhist?  Where is the nearest Buddhist community I can visit?  I wasn't even going to mention this rekindled interest to my husband, since I had already nearly become a Reform Jew and a Liberal Quaker just in the last eight months alone.  But then as I kept reading, I became aware of a disappointing feeling.  It was a bit ironic, actually, as I think it was quite a Buddhist thing for me to observe my thoughts and feelings in this way.  But I realized that I didn't really want to commit to a new religion, a new community.  I didn't want the responsibility of representing something as serious as a spiritual way of life or a religion.

What's more, I noticed I missed the things I love about the Quaker tradition, and started comparing the Five Precepts with the four most common Quaker testimonies, and I thought the Quaker version resonated much better with me.  So why wasn't I becoming a Quaker then?

At first I thought it was because the Quaker tradition originated in Christianity, and I am really done with that outlook on human nature and life's purpose.  I do not believe in original sin, so I do not believe in a Savior.  It took me years to not feel guilty, like I was betraying Jesus, conspicuously looking down at me from various artwork I have around the house.  If I was being brutally honest with myself, I had to stop thinking about what I thought I wanted to believe, or what I wished that I believed, and took a hard look at what I actually believed.

What I came up with was something I had already come across and blogged about previously - spiritual independence.  But my desire for a community, or rather, the notion that I thought I needed to have a corresponding community which would validate my religious label, has finally started to subside.  Another interesting quote I read recently - "Don't be a Buddhist; Be a Buddha."  To become enlightened meant letting go - once and for all - of all the internalized expectations I had placed on myself and what I thought a spiritual life must look like.

Here's what I've come up with.  To me, religion consists of three aspects: theology, morality, and practice.  In Catholicism, the theology stems from the Creed, which I have stopped professing during Mass several months ago in an effort to stay true to my actual beliefs.  Instead, my theology is quite simple and minimal:  I believe in a Creator-God of some sort, and I see proof of "His" existence by observing nature.  I furthermore believe in life after death (eternal life), again from observing how life is fluid and merely transfers the vehicles it occupies, moving from one material body to another, from seed to tree to fruit to new seed, or from corpse to dust in the ground to nutrients for other life forms.  One way or another, I see there is a system in place that does not abruptly stop at each individual's death.  But beyond this, I believe God's nature and the details of eternal life are unknowable and not important.  I am comforted enough knowing that I come from a source into which I will be taken up again, and that when I'll be on the other side, I will experience no remorse for having left my mortal life behind.  In other words, my theology is that of a Deist.

As far as morality, I keep coming back to the Quaker testimonies, which are so simple and pure: peace, integrity, equality, and simplicity.  Sometimes community and stewardship are listed as additional testimonies, but I see these as already covered in the first four: community is peace and equality among any group of people, and stewardship is the same plus living simply such that natural resources are not abused and wasted.  Every value I hold dear, every moral goal I uphold, can be traced back to at least one of these Quaker testimonies.  I feel as though if I live my life in an effort to live out these testimonies, that is all I need as a moral compass to guide me.  

Spiritual practice is something I have struggled the most with, and probably is the reason I have held on to the desire of finding a spiritual community or religious label for so long.  Spiritual practice is at once something I haven't prioritized in my life lately and something I believe I would benefit greatly from.  In order to live a moral life as outlined in the previous paragraph, I believe that I need a spiritual practice that will help me keep these four testimonies at the forefront of my consciousness. Quaker tradition utilizes silent waiting worship to this end.  And while I've tried that, both alone and in meeting, it isn't powerful enough for me.  I guess I need something more concrete, more definable, more ..... eek!... disciplined!  Whenever I've taken the time for waiting worship, I've ended up getting lots of great insight into things that have been brewing in the back of my mind, but it always felt as thought it was only the beginning, that there's more I should be doing to apply the insights from my contemplation into daily life.

And I think this is where the practices of meditation and yoga will have to come in.  Hatha yoga in particular allows me to be in my body, to truly experience the current moment, to live the way we are meant to live.  It has the added benefit of course of increasing strength and flexibility, among other concrete health benefits.  Meditation for me likewise involves breath control and maintaining an alert but still posture.  Sitting cross-legged and counting my breaths gives me something to return to again and again when my thoughts begin to race as they often do during waiting worship.  My goal is to sit for a given amount of time.  The time spent in meditation is to be time I take out of my day in order to live more fully because I'm not thinking about the past or the future.  Again, there are added benefits to meditation, including relaxation, lessened anxiety, and groundedness. With both yoga and meditation, the end result is something I need a lot of help with - building self confidence.

And so I seem to have found the three elements of religion that resonate with me: Nature's God of Deism; Quaker Testimonies of Peace, Integrity, Equality, and Simplicity; and the Buddhist/Hindu practice of yoga and mediation.

Furthermore, when it comes to community, I started to reflect on what I was really trying to get out of a community, what sort of communities I've most enjoyed in the past, and which aspect of religious service (where the community gathers to worship together) I enjoy most in the religion of my upbringing.  Everything points me to education, teaching, learning.  Hearing wisdom and sitting with it, letting it percolate, waiting for it to naturally find its way into an application in my daily life.  That's why sub-par homilies and sermons have always been so disappointing to me.  That's why it took me several years to make my peace with the fact that my PhD program was no longer serving me.  This is why I await with great excitement homeschooling my daughter.

Deism, as luck would have it, is all about education.  Lifelong learning is really the Deist worship. Everything we learn about has the potential to point us back to God.  Deism doesn't come with a creed, moral guidelines, or a spiritual practice.  Deism is a do-it-yourself kind of religion, and because it doesn't come with a brick-and-mortar worship community, I didn't think I could officially call myself a Deist.  But Deism is exactly the umbrella term I need.  I am free to supplement Deism in whatever ways are meaningful and helpful to me.

While I thought - and hoped - that I could do so with Quakerism, something about the need for an official commitment to a specific community has kept me at bay.  I think because I'm prone to replacing aspects of religiosity instead of doing away with them altogether.  Also, as I shared at the last Quaker meeting I attended, the testimony of integrity led me to the Quakers.  And yet, I think it's the testimony of integrity that is likewise preventing me from calling myself a Quaker.  Most Quakers are Christians, and with that comes a certain morality that I do not ascribe to necessarily.  I do not want to pick and choose aspects of an established religion to fit my own fancy.  That would be disingenuous of me, to use the label "Quaker" knowing full-well that it may conjure up certain expectations regarding belief and/or practice that simply do not describe me.  I know there are plenty of Liberal Quakers who do just this and their communities welcome them to do so.  But I think That of God in me is telling me that this is not to be my journey.  I am welcome to appreciate Quaker thought and apply what fits to my own spirituality, but I must stop short of applying the label of Quaker to myself as my religion of choice.  The same applies to Buddhism.

And so, while I thought at the beginning of this post that I was making my peace with the label "Spiritual Independent", I now see that I have actually made the case to embrace the label "Deist" without a moment's hesitation.  There is nothing in Deism that I don't want to embrace, and there's nothing about Deism that tells me I can't supplement the core Deist belief with morality and practice borrowed from other traditions.

The challenge that I have shied away from until now has been the anticipated questions from others when I finally announce that I am a Deist.  What do Deists believe?  What do Deists do?  My answer must simply be, "I can't speak for all Deists, but I can tell you what I believe and how I determine in what way to live my life."  I think the Buddha would be proud of me for taking that first step of authenticity, owning my own spiritual path without depending on external validation.