My husband Alex knows me too well. I used to fight him whenever he met any of my crazy ideas with the understanding that it was "just a phase". I'm finally starting to see the wisdom of that approach. Indeed, I go through a lot of phases!
So as far as my spiritual journey is concerned, I'm not converting, not to Judaism and not to Quakerism. Although I truly resonate well with the typical testimonies of the Quakers, I had to take a good hard look at my life and consider - am I practicing silent waiting worship at home at least? Because I may very well agree with everything a religion stands for, but what of it if I'm not practicing it? I've already got that with my current cultural Catholic conundrum.
Instead of trying to label the ideal to which I've been aspiring spiritually, I decided to consider the current state of my heart, mind, and soul. And I'm happy to report that I am finally in a place where I feel comfortable calling myself.... a Deist.
I considered this label some months ago, but I was still hung up on the issue of an afterlife and the idea that God is personal rather than transcendent. That's why I tried on "Theist" instead, but that didn't really lead to anywhere but more confusion.
Alas, I have arrived. I'm a Deist. I look around our great big world, and I see the work of an intelligent designer. That much I'm certain of. I do not know the details of what this intelligent designer is like, but clearly it's a God far beyond anything I am. I cannot turn liquid into solid or gas. I cannot cause the seasons to come and go on a cyclical timing. I cannot create a seemingly endless variety of living creatures who manifest their defense mechanisms (just to name one example) in a multitude of different ways. No, I am not God, and so God is not "just like me".
Instead, I think there is that of God (to borrow from the Quaker tradition) in each of us. I'd take it a step further by saying that this "suchness" is not even limited only to human beings. I share with other animals and plant life, and frankly with inanimate life something that unites us all to our source, and hence makes us all equal in one regard. We are all created "in God's image", as Christians like to say. But that's because it goes without saying that any given creation maintains something of its creator, whether in its design, its usefulness, its physical appearance, its personality, or a slew of other criteria. Unlike the Christian understanding, though, I do not think there is anything we can do to lose that mark of our creator on our being, and so there's nothing we need to do to gain it. No baptism, no rite of initiation is needed to welcome us into the family of God. There isn't a place on the time-space continuum where we are apart from God, so how can we say we need to try to gain access?
Lately, I've been returning to a Zen cartoon I first read as a teenager that expresses perfectly how I feel about who I am on the spiritual plane. The cartoon shows a little wave with a face drawn on, lamenting to a larger wave, also with a face, about how its so small compared to some of the other waves. The big wave responds that the little wave simply hasn't realized who it truly is. It's mistakenly associated itself with its temporary form as that wave, when in reality, as soon as it crashes against the shore, it'll be "gone". But it's the current form of that wave that disappears, not that "suchness" that is inherent to all waves. Rather, the little wave - like all waves - is actually water, a part of the ocean, and when it crashes against the shore, it simply continues on as the big vast ocean, until it manifests as another wave.
So too I imagine each living thing that is currently contained in a physical body. That which makes me "me" is not my physical body. When I look at baby photos of myself and then look in the mirror, I see two totally different bodies. How can both be one and the same "me"? No, "I" am something that is inside both those bodies, something that doesn't change even as the body does. And if that "I" is not tied to the body, then neither does death sever it from continued existence.
Suffice it to say that I have arrived at a place on my spiritual journey where I do not need to have all the answers. I know God exists, though I don't know the details of what "He" is like. I know "He" created me along with everything else, and that means "He" willed me into being, which means I am here with a purpose; I am loved. I also know that whatever I truly am is not limited to the time I'm living in or the body which I occupy. As such, I believe in eternal life, life after death, an afterlife. However, I don't know the details of what that will be like. Perhaps my consciousness will blend in with the consciousness of all the others who are on the other side, and just like Jesus said, there will be no more Gentiles or Jews, women or men, freedmen or slaves, but we will all be One.
To use another Christian metaphor, right now I am associating myself with - oh, for the sake of argument, let's say "God's left pinkie finger". So, while I'm in my current body, I think this body and I are one. I am this body. But really, my body is only one of God's pinkie fingers. It's not the whole essence of me or God. And when I die, I'll realize this; I'll understand my place in the "body of God". I'm ok knowing that while I don't know how that will affect how I feel about who I am, it will be fine once I get there. I won't "miss" the way I am now. I won't feel deprived of whatever I treasure in this worldly life. I'll be hand in hand with my creator, one with "Him" in every way, blissful.
I think everyone says they want to be happy, but they are quick to put limitations on that happiness. We are quick to say that we can only be happy if.... if we're in a physical body, or if we are able to utilize all of our senses, or if we can stay in the company of our loved ones, or if we can do supernatural things that we currently only dream of. I'm content knowing that one way or another, when I die, I will be at peace and blissful. I'll be happy. Why waste the time I'm given on this plane of existence trying to figure out what that happiness will look like? It won't change the fact that I shall return to my Maker, and it won't change the amount of time I have here to enjoy what I have in my current life.
Do I believe in reincarnation? Will I get to see my deceased loved ones again? These are questions about the details of the afterlife, questions that I don't know the answers to and that's OK. I don't understand how television or radio signals work, but I'm happy to make use of them and enjoy them and just be glad that someone understands them and has been able to make them available to me. Why do I think I have to figure everything out? I don't. I'm not God. Only God knows everything. That's the way the design works.
I think that's where the story of Adam and Eve comes from - that we are perfectly blissful in God's presence until the moment we decide we want to understand something that God didn't intend for us to understand. Ever since "our first parents" fell from grace by becoming discontent with paradise, humanity has continued to carry this "original sin" (!), which is merely a lack of being content with what you've been given.
The truth is, that I am actually quite content with my newly embraced label of Deist. I believe in God. I believe in eternal life. I believe in these things because I see evidence for them in the natural world. Now, they're not literal or personified concepts, like the Judeo-Christian-Muslim tradition affirms, but I'm ok with abstract thought.
In the end, I think fear of death is the reason people seek out and cling to religion. And fear of death comes from a lack of awareness of our true nature. We are too attached to our physical bodies to go beyond the ego and let go of our fears and the accompanying baggage that muddies what ought to be a life filled with joy and peace.
I do not fear death. I say this in the same way that I said (and proved it to be true) that I didn't fear giving birth to my daughter Maya. There were naysayers along the way when I'd say I planned a natural homebirth. They'd try to project their own fears and ignorance onto me. But in the end, even though my childbirth wasn't exactly like I imagined it, the one thing that never crossed my mind during the entire labor and delivery was fear. Not once did I feel afraid. I was in the zone, I was enduring contractions and "the ring of fire" during pushing, but I did not fear. I was too busy, too in the moment, to entertain the useless thoughts of fear. In the same way, I do not fear death. I have peace about it.
Now, that's not to say that I don't hope for a very long life, surrounded by my loved ones; I do. I just don't buy into the scare tactics of certain religions that would have me believe that unless I join them, I will be sorry.
Perhaps this, too is a phase. Maybe I'll find some new loophole at some point in the future and get back on my rollercoaster seeking "the perfect religion". I truly hope not. I hope I've finally arrived home. There are still aspects of my spiritual life that need to be addressed - how to incorporate my Deist beliefs into parenting my daughter, or how to get the most out of our family attendance at a Catholic church. But I'm happy to be where I find myself now. I'm a Deist, and I attend a Catholic church with my family. I'll save the details for another day.
For now, I've found a religious identity that jives perfectly with my overall minimalist aspirations.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
The Problem with Labels
Looking over my first full year as a mother, I noticed something about myself. I'm not as superstitious as I used to be. Tonight is New Year's Eve, and normally I run around making sure the house is clean, there are no outstanding balances anywhere, no grudges held, everything ready to ring in the new year with no old baggage. But tonight, I'm not stressing about any of that. There is nothing magical about tonight's midnight. It's an arbitrary social convention established to help us divide events in time. I will not jinx my 2015 if I'm still line drying clothes washed in 2014 (the day before).
Similarly, I've noticed that I'm not as religious as I was when starting the year. I hate to say it (Ok, the old me would hate to say it), but there's a lot of overlap between what's deemed superstitious and what's considered religious. Mainly it's a matter of perspective. And this year, try as I did, I just can't recapture my old sense of religiosity. My last ditch effort was to convert to Judaism, but then I realized it made no sense to do so if it wasn't because I thought there was more truth in Judaism than there is in Catholicism, where I'm already comfortable at least. And while the unofficial Quaker in me still hopes to one day find a meeting where I will feel at home, as it stands, all religion seems to be an elaborate system of myth, legend, superstition, brainwashing, and power trips. On one hand, these are meant to encourage the masses to follow some level of ethical living. On the other hand, they mask the truth and beauty and genius of God that is buried deep underneath all the excess baggage.
As I've considered my spiritual journey thus far, I've noticed that I give way too much thought to external validation. I've always been an outsider, so I don't know why I ever thought that I could actually find a religious community where I fit right in, both in terms of practice and belief. And yet I've tried, and taken way too personally when others take it upon themselves to tell me I'm not "..." enough to really call myself X.
Well, I've just about had it with trying to please fellow human beings. Perhaps they actually believe everything the Catholic Church (for instance) teaches, and that's great for them. But for them to try to tell me that unless I am at least trying to accept the official dogma I'm not "really Catholic", that's just absurd, ignorant, and their problem - not mine! Being Catholic, heck, being any religion, is merely one aspect of one's culture. I grew up with Catholic tradition, I went through the external Catholic sacraments of initiation, I choose to worship at a Catholic church (for now), and that's as Catholic as I'm going to be. So what if the more observant Catholics bemoan my presence? So what if they try to tell me to "go where I do believe what is being taught"? Why should I have to leave? That is only applicable if I'm working within their framework of what is True and holy and valuable.
I'm not purposefully going to go out of my way to disrespect any religious sentiment (so long as it doesn't fly directly in the face of my values, which sadly some religious teachings do). But I'm not going to be pushed out and treated like a pariah for being a free thinker.
My problem all along, of course, has been that I wanted to belong. And when I couldn't conform my own mind in order to belong, I set out to try to find those who already agreed with me so we could belong together. Now that I'm finding that hard to find, I may need to reassess this need altogether. Why do I need to belong to an official religious community? Why must there be a commonly understood label for my spiritual experience? Why must I be like everybody else?
Politically speaking, I'm an Independent. I do not vote based on a candidate's party affiliation because individuals vary too much. What a party may typically stand for doesn't necessarily mean each individual candidate will uphold that ideal. And what if - hold onto your hats - there are things that each party stands for that I value? In other words, I may not be a fan of big government, but I believe in helping the poor even at the expense of the filthy rich. Or I may not agree with abortion on demand, but I do think gay couples have a right to marry. If I officially say "I am a Republican" or "I am a Democrat", this automatically conjures up all the affiliated stances on various issues, regardless of my actual opinion on each.
Similarly, I've found the trouble with religion. If I officially say "I am Catholic", the assumption (perhaps even rightly so) would be that I don't believe in using birth control, IVF, gay marriage, and that I pray to different saints based on my needs at the moment. The holier-than-thou would say that if I disagree with them, then I have no right to call myself Catholic. But the better question is - why do I want to? Just to have a label to fall back on? If the Catholics don't want me, why do I keep trying to justify why I should be allowed to keep calling myself Catholic even though I disagree with several key Catholic social teachings and, what's even more troubling, the major basic tenets of Christian faith. They are right. Religiously speaking, I'm no more Catholic than a Quaker or Buddhist is Catholic.
In a way, my Catholicism perhaps is similar to my Polishness. I still have fond memories of living in Poland. I still hold to some Polish traditions that are dear to me. I still speak the language. But just how Polish am I, really? I'm not up to par on the latest Polish news, nor do I even espouse to some popular Polish outlooks on life anymore. I haven't exactly stopped being Polish. It's just that my Polish identity has faded over the years. It won't ever totally disappear, and I'm glad for that, but I'll never resettle in Poland again and feel at ease living and working there. I guess that's the same with my Catholicism, too.
And even my Americanness hasn't exactly simply taken the place of what my Polishness used to be. I'm glad to be an American because of various reasons, but not because I fully agree with everything "America stands for". Materialism, keeping up with the Joneses, the whole Savior-complex when it comes to interfering in world events.... I could do without those. And perhaps my pro-immigration and universal healthcare attitude is enough to make certain Americans tell me to "go back to where I came from", or otherwise that I'm not "American enough". If I disagree with every private citizen being allowed to carry a weapon, I must not be American. It doesn't matter that I served in the US Army while some of these gun-happy "patriots" didn't.
If I keep letting people tell me what I can and cannot call myself, I'll no longer be Catholic, American, or a slew of other labels that perhaps don't fit me to a T. (Feminist? Not if I'm pro-life. Mother? Only if genetically related to my offspring.)
So I'm going to try something new in the New Year. I'm going to use labels if doing so helps me, and I'm not going to worry if anyone disagrees with my use of the label. Ideally, I'm going to try try TRY to live label-free.
Similarly, I've noticed that I'm not as religious as I was when starting the year. I hate to say it (Ok, the old me would hate to say it), but there's a lot of overlap between what's deemed superstitious and what's considered religious. Mainly it's a matter of perspective. And this year, try as I did, I just can't recapture my old sense of religiosity. My last ditch effort was to convert to Judaism, but then I realized it made no sense to do so if it wasn't because I thought there was more truth in Judaism than there is in Catholicism, where I'm already comfortable at least. And while the unofficial Quaker in me still hopes to one day find a meeting where I will feel at home, as it stands, all religion seems to be an elaborate system of myth, legend, superstition, brainwashing, and power trips. On one hand, these are meant to encourage the masses to follow some level of ethical living. On the other hand, they mask the truth and beauty and genius of God that is buried deep underneath all the excess baggage.
As I've considered my spiritual journey thus far, I've noticed that I give way too much thought to external validation. I've always been an outsider, so I don't know why I ever thought that I could actually find a religious community where I fit right in, both in terms of practice and belief. And yet I've tried, and taken way too personally when others take it upon themselves to tell me I'm not "..." enough to really call myself X.
Well, I've just about had it with trying to please fellow human beings. Perhaps they actually believe everything the Catholic Church (for instance) teaches, and that's great for them. But for them to try to tell me that unless I am at least trying to accept the official dogma I'm not "really Catholic", that's just absurd, ignorant, and their problem - not mine! Being Catholic, heck, being any religion, is merely one aspect of one's culture. I grew up with Catholic tradition, I went through the external Catholic sacraments of initiation, I choose to worship at a Catholic church (for now), and that's as Catholic as I'm going to be. So what if the more observant Catholics bemoan my presence? So what if they try to tell me to "go where I do believe what is being taught"? Why should I have to leave? That is only applicable if I'm working within their framework of what is True and holy and valuable.
I'm not purposefully going to go out of my way to disrespect any religious sentiment (so long as it doesn't fly directly in the face of my values, which sadly some religious teachings do). But I'm not going to be pushed out and treated like a pariah for being a free thinker.
My problem all along, of course, has been that I wanted to belong. And when I couldn't conform my own mind in order to belong, I set out to try to find those who already agreed with me so we could belong together. Now that I'm finding that hard to find, I may need to reassess this need altogether. Why do I need to belong to an official religious community? Why must there be a commonly understood label for my spiritual experience? Why must I be like everybody else?
Politically speaking, I'm an Independent. I do not vote based on a candidate's party affiliation because individuals vary too much. What a party may typically stand for doesn't necessarily mean each individual candidate will uphold that ideal. And what if - hold onto your hats - there are things that each party stands for that I value? In other words, I may not be a fan of big government, but I believe in helping the poor even at the expense of the filthy rich. Or I may not agree with abortion on demand, but I do think gay couples have a right to marry. If I officially say "I am a Republican" or "I am a Democrat", this automatically conjures up all the affiliated stances on various issues, regardless of my actual opinion on each.
Similarly, I've found the trouble with religion. If I officially say "I am Catholic", the assumption (perhaps even rightly so) would be that I don't believe in using birth control, IVF, gay marriage, and that I pray to different saints based on my needs at the moment. The holier-than-thou would say that if I disagree with them, then I have no right to call myself Catholic. But the better question is - why do I want to? Just to have a label to fall back on? If the Catholics don't want me, why do I keep trying to justify why I should be allowed to keep calling myself Catholic even though I disagree with several key Catholic social teachings and, what's even more troubling, the major basic tenets of Christian faith. They are right. Religiously speaking, I'm no more Catholic than a Quaker or Buddhist is Catholic.
In a way, my Catholicism perhaps is similar to my Polishness. I still have fond memories of living in Poland. I still hold to some Polish traditions that are dear to me. I still speak the language. But just how Polish am I, really? I'm not up to par on the latest Polish news, nor do I even espouse to some popular Polish outlooks on life anymore. I haven't exactly stopped being Polish. It's just that my Polish identity has faded over the years. It won't ever totally disappear, and I'm glad for that, but I'll never resettle in Poland again and feel at ease living and working there. I guess that's the same with my Catholicism, too.
And even my Americanness hasn't exactly simply taken the place of what my Polishness used to be. I'm glad to be an American because of various reasons, but not because I fully agree with everything "America stands for". Materialism, keeping up with the Joneses, the whole Savior-complex when it comes to interfering in world events.... I could do without those. And perhaps my pro-immigration and universal healthcare attitude is enough to make certain Americans tell me to "go back to where I came from", or otherwise that I'm not "American enough". If I disagree with every private citizen being allowed to carry a weapon, I must not be American. It doesn't matter that I served in the US Army while some of these gun-happy "patriots" didn't.
If I keep letting people tell me what I can and cannot call myself, I'll no longer be Catholic, American, or a slew of other labels that perhaps don't fit me to a T. (Feminist? Not if I'm pro-life. Mother? Only if genetically related to my offspring.)
So I'm going to try something new in the New Year. I'm going to use labels if doing so helps me, and I'm not going to worry if anyone disagrees with my use of the label. Ideally, I'm going to try try TRY to live label-free.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Swapping Religions
As I was afraid, I may have jumped the gun on the whole potential-Jewish-convert idea. But it's a thought process, and as long as I'm headed in the right direction, it doesn't matter where I thought I was going.
On a daily basis, for several weeks, Judaism and a Jewish life were at the forefront of my mind. I discussed the possibility of a family conversion with Alex, who said both, that he was uncomfortable with the idea of converting but was open to learning, and that he is who he is today because he seeks to please me.... He probably knows by now that usually I just need to be able to hear my thoughts out loud, try ideas on as if they were decisions, and then sleep on the result.
Over the past few weeks of discernment, I've realized several things. I need a label to give myself a spiritual/religious identity. I thrive on compartmentalizing things; that's how I make sense of the world. All the more when it comes to answering a question like "who am I". Up until now, I've struggled with my lifelong identity as a Catholic. I've given it adjectives (cultural? Christian?). I've considered alternatives that don't stray too far from the Catholic home-base (Orthodox? Protestant?). No matter what I've tried, I've felt that I'm trying too hard and my religious identity should not be this difficult. That's why I thought a conversion to Reform Judaism would provide me with an official label/category that accurately reflected my spiritually liberal views.
Also, I've realized that I want a spiritual community of like-minded individuals to validate my own spiritual beliefs and values. I wish this weren't the case. I feel downright moronic to have admitted this, but if I'm going to move forward on this journey, I need to know exactly where I am, not where I think I should be or where I hope to be. So, the community at our Catholic church doesn't quite fit the bill. I recently went through a small-group series at the church where I so wanted to fit in. I wanted to recapture my faith. Yet by the end of the series, I knew I was a Catholic in name only, by virtue of my upbringing, nationality, habit, comfort level, but not faith. I couldn't openly share my views on things that the Magisterium officially teaches against. I mean, I COULD, but this would create an uncomfortable situation of others seeking to revert me back to the fold, convince me I'm wrong, pray for my salvation even (not so much in the Catholic tradition, which I think is why I've stuck around for so long.) Again, belonging to a synagogue where the focus is not on belief, but where I know everyone most likely at least believes in a personal God, would allow me the freedom to express my thoughts and opinions without risking shunning.
Finally, I wanted a set of practices that would weave my faith into my daily life. I used to enjoy the rituals of Catholicism when I was oblivious to what they stood for, even more when I believed what they stood for. But once I began to be uncomfortable with worshiping the alleged incarnation of the Almighty instead of worshiping God directly through no intermediary, I could no longer in good conscience perform rituals meant to align me with a specific member of the Trinity, which 99% of the time was NOT the Father (the Creator, Source, Spirit). I felt empty when considering non-ritualistic denominations, like Unitarian Universalism. But if I'm being honest, the specific details that enriched my spiritual and religious life in the past - stained glass windows, beautiful artwork and statues, candles, silence in the sanctuary, timeless and uplifting music - have long left most Catholic churches anyway. These are not what makes a Catholic church. These are details, and many would argue insignificant at that. Yet to me, they are not insignificant. They are the stepping stones my soul would use to reach up to God.
As it turns out, I've been looking for something that doesn't exist. I've been looking for what is perfection to my particular sentiments and needs, and organized religion can't possibly please everyone. (Of course, that's not its point, either.) But there was one more consideration that was giving me a sense of urgency about figuring out who I am spiritually once and for all: my daughter Maya. I don't want to pass on to her this spiritual uncertainty. I want to raise her with a clear notion of God's presence in her life.
I don't know how exactly it happened, but yesterday it just dawned on me to reword my hopes for Maya's (and my) spirituality. I had to peel back the last layer to get to the root of what I believe and start from that central point, not by negating where I happen to be right now.
I believe there is a God, a God who cares about me and whom I will join for all eternity after this life. I believe that the details cannot be known this side of heaven, yet it is precisely the details that every organized religion seems to try to nail down and pass on to its adherents as truth. The truth is that God cannot be limited by any one religion. The truth is that God cannot be limited by words, descriptions, explanations. The truth is that God can only truly be known through direct experience.
So, if that's my understanding of God, and this is what I hope to teach Maya, does it really make sense for me to try to convert the family from any one particular religion to another? I've been looking for a one-size-fits-all religion that will fulfill all three of my needs - an officially recognized religious label in a community setting where my beliefs and values are reinforced and expressed in rituals and practices that can be incorporated into daily life, and this package deal is what I've wanted to pass on to my daughter. Realizing that I don't believe any one religion is "true", it became pointless to convert from one to the other. If we think of a pyramid divided into several levels, with the bottom level representing official organized religions, the middle level representing more general dogmas and creeds not necessarily tied to a single religion, and the very tip representing the actual truth and union with God, then I've been headed in the wrong direction - horizontally instead of vertically.
By the grace of God, it was this realization that made me realize that the best way to teach Maya what I believe about God - that He is not limited to a single religion - is actually to expose her to many different religions and NOT to merely pretend we "belong" to one interpretation but not another one. Granted, this immediately presents an obstacle to the first need I have - a label for that part of me that is religious. There actually are a few labels I've considered before that came up, and some new ones I recently read about. The idea is, if someone asks "what religion are you?" they're just looking for a label. I can say "Spiritually Independent" (because indeed, my beliefs are independent from any organized religion), or "Seeker" (because indeed, I'm seeking God, and as I just realized, not religion), or "Ethical Monotheist" (something Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all purport to be at their core but sadly often fall very short in practice). But considering actually identifying with any of these labels to the exclusion of a better recognized religious category seems cumbersome. In a real life conversation, my interlocutor would either have no idea what I'm talking about and I'd have to explain, or, as with "Seeker", the assumption may be made that I'm sort of "in between religions" and open to considering theirs. Sometimes, in life, a quick label that doesn't beg any further questions is needed.
And lo and behold, that's when it occurred to me that God has been drawing me to Himself all along (as if there was ever any doubt) by bringing me back around for the third (?!) time to Quakerism.
I've long held that I am a Quaker at heart. My attendance at Quaker meeting-houses has been sporadic at best, so I've never even attained the status of ongoing attender, much less come to a place where I might request that a clearance committee consider making me "official". The freedom of belief that nonetheless remains based on the teachings of Jesus - something I'm familiar and comfortable with - does beat out the freedom of belief available in Reform Judaism, since Jesus would pretty much have to become irrelevant all together. I've heard it said that Jesus is to Judaism what Mohammad is to Christianity. Perhaps he's fine as a teacher for those who follow him, but he's outside the scope of our world view.
For a long time, whenever I looked outside of Christianity for a potential spiritual home, I didn't feel right leaving Jesus behind. Not because I believe that he is God, but because I'm familiar with the wording of his teachings. I know that many of his lessons can be found in the teachings of other sages, those that came before him and those that followed him. But I cannot pretend that my culture doesn't in part make me who I am, and my culture happened to include the particular teachings of Jesus. So I never really liked the idea of leaving Jesus behind, but I felt I was between a rock and a hard place. It seemed that I could either have Jesus as God or not at all. Most recently, it became apparent to me that if indeed I had to choose, I couldn't continue to worship anyone but HaShem the Almighty. Every time I thought of praising Jesus, I thought of the Jewish and Muslim accusation of idolatry. I couldn't, in good conscience, continue to divert my worship from Allah the Creator.
But going back to Quakerism, I was reminded that I actually did have another option. I could join a group of people who speak of listening to the Christ Within, a group of people who believe as I do that Jesus can teach us how to live right by God, without any particular creed or dogma about the theological details.
In Quakerism, I can have the label I desire, the community of like-minded people, and some tradition (mainly in the way things are worded, which is cool because as a linguist, I like words!). But what about my stained glass and candles? And what about not being able to have Alex worship with me because the silent worship leads to his snoring (ahem)?
Well, having come to the realization that what I actually believe and what I actually want to teach Maya is that it doesn't matter to God where or how we worship Him, so long as we serve Him by doing His will, it no longer became necessary to have a "family religion". I could fulfill all of my spiritual needs so long as I quit fixating on trying to stuff them all into a single religious prepackaged box.
So how do I envision our family spiritual life now?
For starters, I'm going to have to make a better effort at finding a meeting house where I can feel at home. I may have to drive a bit farther than I'd like to do that, but something's got to give. Since Alex and I have not both been able to be attentive at Mass since Maya started walking, we've toyed with the idea of Alex going to a different Mass, my himself, and then watching Maya while I attend another Mass. Well, this phase will end once Maya is old enough to sit somewhat still and pay attention to what's going on. At that point, we can go back to attending Mass together as a family. Hopefully by then we'll find a church whose beauty is inspiring enough, whose music is uplifting enough, whose homilies are engaging enough, where I can still get some of my spiritual needs met there (while of course simply ignoring those aspects that I find questionable, objectionable, or unnecessary). In the meantime, I'll watch Maya while Alex attends Mass, and he'll watch her while I attend worship at a meeting house (there are two about 12 miles away that I want to check out).
That takes care of the weekly corporal worship aspect of our family's spiritual life. But there's more. Once I'm a full-fledged member of a meeting house, I'll feel a lot more comfortable participating with the Catholic community, since I'll be able to voice disagreement on theological issues without causing concern as a "lapsed Catholic". Instead, I'll simply be a Quaker whose views differ from those of Catholics In the meantime. I'll need to become an integral part of my meeting-house and make friends there. Not only will we be able to participate in each other's primary places of worship's activities, but Maya will also be able to benefit from the children's programs at both.
Furthermore, we'll periodically visit other places of worship and incorporate learning about other faiths into our homeschool curriculum. As for Maya's religious identity, she can either be both Catholic and Quaker (at least the Quakers won't mind), or we can say that she is too young to have a religious identity of her own, and that she will decide when she's old enough.
With this arrangement, we can continue to celebrate Christmas and Easter and focus on our understanding of these holidays. The same goes for religious art around the house, and the wording of our prayers.
Thank you, Lord, for opening my eyes to the possibility of serving You if only I think outside the box of a single family religion. Amen.
On a daily basis, for several weeks, Judaism and a Jewish life were at the forefront of my mind. I discussed the possibility of a family conversion with Alex, who said both, that he was uncomfortable with the idea of converting but was open to learning, and that he is who he is today because he seeks to please me.... He probably knows by now that usually I just need to be able to hear my thoughts out loud, try ideas on as if they were decisions, and then sleep on the result.
Over the past few weeks of discernment, I've realized several things. I need a label to give myself a spiritual/religious identity. I thrive on compartmentalizing things; that's how I make sense of the world. All the more when it comes to answering a question like "who am I". Up until now, I've struggled with my lifelong identity as a Catholic. I've given it adjectives (cultural? Christian?). I've considered alternatives that don't stray too far from the Catholic home-base (Orthodox? Protestant?). No matter what I've tried, I've felt that I'm trying too hard and my religious identity should not be this difficult. That's why I thought a conversion to Reform Judaism would provide me with an official label/category that accurately reflected my spiritually liberal views.
Also, I've realized that I want a spiritual community of like-minded individuals to validate my own spiritual beliefs and values. I wish this weren't the case. I feel downright moronic to have admitted this, but if I'm going to move forward on this journey, I need to know exactly where I am, not where I think I should be or where I hope to be. So, the community at our Catholic church doesn't quite fit the bill. I recently went through a small-group series at the church where I so wanted to fit in. I wanted to recapture my faith. Yet by the end of the series, I knew I was a Catholic in name only, by virtue of my upbringing, nationality, habit, comfort level, but not faith. I couldn't openly share my views on things that the Magisterium officially teaches against. I mean, I COULD, but this would create an uncomfortable situation of others seeking to revert me back to the fold, convince me I'm wrong, pray for my salvation even (not so much in the Catholic tradition, which I think is why I've stuck around for so long.) Again, belonging to a synagogue where the focus is not on belief, but where I know everyone most likely at least believes in a personal God, would allow me the freedom to express my thoughts and opinions without risking shunning.
Finally, I wanted a set of practices that would weave my faith into my daily life. I used to enjoy the rituals of Catholicism when I was oblivious to what they stood for, even more when I believed what they stood for. But once I began to be uncomfortable with worshiping the alleged incarnation of the Almighty instead of worshiping God directly through no intermediary, I could no longer in good conscience perform rituals meant to align me with a specific member of the Trinity, which 99% of the time was NOT the Father (the Creator, Source, Spirit). I felt empty when considering non-ritualistic denominations, like Unitarian Universalism. But if I'm being honest, the specific details that enriched my spiritual and religious life in the past - stained glass windows, beautiful artwork and statues, candles, silence in the sanctuary, timeless and uplifting music - have long left most Catholic churches anyway. These are not what makes a Catholic church. These are details, and many would argue insignificant at that. Yet to me, they are not insignificant. They are the stepping stones my soul would use to reach up to God.
As it turns out, I've been looking for something that doesn't exist. I've been looking for what is perfection to my particular sentiments and needs, and organized religion can't possibly please everyone. (Of course, that's not its point, either.) But there was one more consideration that was giving me a sense of urgency about figuring out who I am spiritually once and for all: my daughter Maya. I don't want to pass on to her this spiritual uncertainty. I want to raise her with a clear notion of God's presence in her life.
I don't know how exactly it happened, but yesterday it just dawned on me to reword my hopes for Maya's (and my) spirituality. I had to peel back the last layer to get to the root of what I believe and start from that central point, not by negating where I happen to be right now.
I believe there is a God, a God who cares about me and whom I will join for all eternity after this life. I believe that the details cannot be known this side of heaven, yet it is precisely the details that every organized religion seems to try to nail down and pass on to its adherents as truth. The truth is that God cannot be limited by any one religion. The truth is that God cannot be limited by words, descriptions, explanations. The truth is that God can only truly be known through direct experience.
So, if that's my understanding of God, and this is what I hope to teach Maya, does it really make sense for me to try to convert the family from any one particular religion to another? I've been looking for a one-size-fits-all religion that will fulfill all three of my needs - an officially recognized religious label in a community setting where my beliefs and values are reinforced and expressed in rituals and practices that can be incorporated into daily life, and this package deal is what I've wanted to pass on to my daughter. Realizing that I don't believe any one religion is "true", it became pointless to convert from one to the other. If we think of a pyramid divided into several levels, with the bottom level representing official organized religions, the middle level representing more general dogmas and creeds not necessarily tied to a single religion, and the very tip representing the actual truth and union with God, then I've been headed in the wrong direction - horizontally instead of vertically.
By the grace of God, it was this realization that made me realize that the best way to teach Maya what I believe about God - that He is not limited to a single religion - is actually to expose her to many different religions and NOT to merely pretend we "belong" to one interpretation but not another one. Granted, this immediately presents an obstacle to the first need I have - a label for that part of me that is religious. There actually are a few labels I've considered before that came up, and some new ones I recently read about. The idea is, if someone asks "what religion are you?" they're just looking for a label. I can say "Spiritually Independent" (because indeed, my beliefs are independent from any organized religion), or "Seeker" (because indeed, I'm seeking God, and as I just realized, not religion), or "Ethical Monotheist" (something Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all purport to be at their core but sadly often fall very short in practice). But considering actually identifying with any of these labels to the exclusion of a better recognized religious category seems cumbersome. In a real life conversation, my interlocutor would either have no idea what I'm talking about and I'd have to explain, or, as with "Seeker", the assumption may be made that I'm sort of "in between religions" and open to considering theirs. Sometimes, in life, a quick label that doesn't beg any further questions is needed.
And lo and behold, that's when it occurred to me that God has been drawing me to Himself all along (as if there was ever any doubt) by bringing me back around for the third (?!) time to Quakerism.
I've long held that I am a Quaker at heart. My attendance at Quaker meeting-houses has been sporadic at best, so I've never even attained the status of ongoing attender, much less come to a place where I might request that a clearance committee consider making me "official". The freedom of belief that nonetheless remains based on the teachings of Jesus - something I'm familiar and comfortable with - does beat out the freedom of belief available in Reform Judaism, since Jesus would pretty much have to become irrelevant all together. I've heard it said that Jesus is to Judaism what Mohammad is to Christianity. Perhaps he's fine as a teacher for those who follow him, but he's outside the scope of our world view.
For a long time, whenever I looked outside of Christianity for a potential spiritual home, I didn't feel right leaving Jesus behind. Not because I believe that he is God, but because I'm familiar with the wording of his teachings. I know that many of his lessons can be found in the teachings of other sages, those that came before him and those that followed him. But I cannot pretend that my culture doesn't in part make me who I am, and my culture happened to include the particular teachings of Jesus. So I never really liked the idea of leaving Jesus behind, but I felt I was between a rock and a hard place. It seemed that I could either have Jesus as God or not at all. Most recently, it became apparent to me that if indeed I had to choose, I couldn't continue to worship anyone but HaShem the Almighty. Every time I thought of praising Jesus, I thought of the Jewish and Muslim accusation of idolatry. I couldn't, in good conscience, continue to divert my worship from Allah the Creator.
But going back to Quakerism, I was reminded that I actually did have another option. I could join a group of people who speak of listening to the Christ Within, a group of people who believe as I do that Jesus can teach us how to live right by God, without any particular creed or dogma about the theological details.
In Quakerism, I can have the label I desire, the community of like-minded people, and some tradition (mainly in the way things are worded, which is cool because as a linguist, I like words!). But what about my stained glass and candles? And what about not being able to have Alex worship with me because the silent worship leads to his snoring (ahem)?
Well, having come to the realization that what I actually believe and what I actually want to teach Maya is that it doesn't matter to God where or how we worship Him, so long as we serve Him by doing His will, it no longer became necessary to have a "family religion". I could fulfill all of my spiritual needs so long as I quit fixating on trying to stuff them all into a single religious prepackaged box.
So how do I envision our family spiritual life now?
For starters, I'm going to have to make a better effort at finding a meeting house where I can feel at home. I may have to drive a bit farther than I'd like to do that, but something's got to give. Since Alex and I have not both been able to be attentive at Mass since Maya started walking, we've toyed with the idea of Alex going to a different Mass, my himself, and then watching Maya while I attend another Mass. Well, this phase will end once Maya is old enough to sit somewhat still and pay attention to what's going on. At that point, we can go back to attending Mass together as a family. Hopefully by then we'll find a church whose beauty is inspiring enough, whose music is uplifting enough, whose homilies are engaging enough, where I can still get some of my spiritual needs met there (while of course simply ignoring those aspects that I find questionable, objectionable, or unnecessary). In the meantime, I'll watch Maya while Alex attends Mass, and he'll watch her while I attend worship at a meeting house (there are two about 12 miles away that I want to check out).
That takes care of the weekly corporal worship aspect of our family's spiritual life. But there's more. Once I'm a full-fledged member of a meeting house, I'll feel a lot more comfortable participating with the Catholic community, since I'll be able to voice disagreement on theological issues without causing concern as a "lapsed Catholic". Instead, I'll simply be a Quaker whose views differ from those of Catholics In the meantime. I'll need to become an integral part of my meeting-house and make friends there. Not only will we be able to participate in each other's primary places of worship's activities, but Maya will also be able to benefit from the children's programs at both.
Furthermore, we'll periodically visit other places of worship and incorporate learning about other faiths into our homeschool curriculum. As for Maya's religious identity, she can either be both Catholic and Quaker (at least the Quakers won't mind), or we can say that she is too young to have a religious identity of her own, and that she will decide when she's old enough.
With this arrangement, we can continue to celebrate Christmas and Easter and focus on our understanding of these holidays. The same goes for religious art around the house, and the wording of our prayers.
Thank you, Lord, for opening my eyes to the possibility of serving You if only I think outside the box of a single family religion. Amen.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Seriously. Jewish?
I hesitate to write this post, because I do not know where the future may lead, and for some reason I worry that I may be made to feel silly for every feeling the way I do currently. Yet that's the worst that may happen. On the flip side, if the future indeed leads to where I'm headed right now, it may prove useful to look back and see how it all began.
There really are many starting points on my spiritual journey. I've discussed this elsewhere as well. I grew up in a culturally Catholic household with an equal dose of pagan influences and Church attendance/various Christianity-related traditions, something I actually was not aware of until I became more and more spiritual and religious and found resistance from my family. The horoscope and astrology in general were discussed as fact for as long as I can remember. It coexisted with regular Mass attendance, catechism classes, and home celebrations of holidays found on the liturgical calendar. What was not present, which finally tipped me off as to the lack of actual religious Catholic influence in my family, was that there was no discussion of Christian beliefs aside from the very vague existence of God and going to heaven after we die. There was likewise no family prayer, not even at mealtimes. Being Catholic was a fraction of our cultural identity, something we fit in between Polish sentiments, like the importance of the Polish language, agreement about the deliciousness of Polish foods, and a common history of persecution from all sides over the years.
It wasn't until many years after immigrating to the United States that my idea of what it meant to be Catholic was contradicted by what my family considered "Catholic enough". My senior year of high school, I felt a desire to draw closer to God. The only way I knew how to do so was to consider a religious vocation. I wanted to become a nun, and spend my days in prayer, study, and simple jobs around the convent. I never had the chance to actually discern this vocation, because I was promptly discouraged by my family. The idea of taking on such a lifestyle was akin to sadness in their eyes. They couldn't imagine that I might actually be fulfilled by a life of simplicity. Lacking any seriously religious adult role models in my life, I followed the advice of my family and gave up the idea of a religious life before it ever had a chance to germinate in my mind any further.
Some years later, after my journey took me out of the Church and to various denominations and non-Christian world views, I came across another road block from my family. I had come to feel God's presence envelope me and invite me into a personal relationship with Him. Since previously I thought the only way to have a relationship with God was through the consecrated life, and since that idea was quickly squashed, I hadn't pursued that relationship in any other way because I didn't know another way existed. And then, through years of exposure to Protestant Christians, I finally started to consider a life lived for God without the Catholic church. For a brief while, I was excited about my born-again faith and tried to share my excitement with my mom. In spite of what I thought were compelling arguments, she responded with "that's nice, but I'm still Catholic".
Then I tried to bring that fire I had for living for God into the Catholic sphere. I delved into Catholic history and theology and realized for the first time that what I was taught as a child was not the official, religious, Catholicism meant to bring me closer to God, but rather a mere cultural Catholicism. As it would turn out, in spite of both of us "being Catholic", my religious reasons and my family's cultural reasons put us at odds with each other; we might as well have been of different religions. My attempts at modest dress were ridiculed. My frequent activity at church functions was tolerated at best. I was keenly aware of my inability to say grace before meals in the presence of my family without it eliciting some sort of reaction - a raised eyebrow, a tongue-in-cheek joke, a sigh, or a discussion afterwards pointing out my lack of holiness in some area of my life. Any public display of my religious sentiments was a threat - presumably - to my less religious relatives. I was seen as acting holier-than-thou. My religious behavior was seen as unnecessary. Again, none of my relatives considered that perhaps this is just something that helps me live a more fulfilling life.
And so, with no support from my family to be religious, I found myself on my own as I searched for religious truth. Thankfully, God sent my husband Alex into my life early on in my adult life. He has always been open minded, and with time became religious as well. Let me clarify that he is religious in an open-minded sort of way. He is open about his belief in God, yet he does not presume to be certain that there is one religion that holds all truth about God. That is precisely where I find myself as well.
Yet in spite of my conclusion that no religion can possibly contain everything there is to know about God, I still long to belong to a religion I can live out with integrity and joy. It is not enough for me to simply be aware of my convictions without a larger body of believers reaffirming those convictions for me. It is no longer appropriate for me to worship at a Catholic church and simply tune out the parts of the liturgy that do not resonate with me. In fact, I can no longer, in good conscience, continue to associate myself with a Christian identity of any sort.
I love the teachings of Jesus, and for a long time I couldn't imagine abandoning his influence in my spiritual life. Yet I see my relationship with Jesus akin to my relationship to the late Polish Pope. I remember vividly keeping vigil when St. John Paul II's last days were being televised. I mourned my fellow countryman and namesake as if I knew him personally. Yet shortly after he died, I realized that since a Pole was no longer at the head of "my" church, I was relieved of my obligation to remain Catholic. Similarly, the more I've studied about religion, the Bible, and Jesus, the more I've felt that I've been fed an image of Jesus that does not belong to the actual Yeshua who walked this earth 2,000 years ago. I've been guilt tripped into believing without question. I was taught that my shortcomings in this life (my "sins") literally have a supra-temporal affect on Jesus; every time I "sin" (as defined by Christian authorities), I crucify Jesus! Can you imagine?! How does one get away from that level of brain-washing intact?
At any rate, with my daughter Maya having recently turned one year old (!), the dry spell of my spiritually journey has also turned from a very short lived but intense deepening of Christian Catholic faith to a months-long dark night of the soul, followed in recent months by a reemergence of a desire to reconnect to a spiritual community. Except that I've come out the other end of this past year with an itch that cannot be left unscratched; I simply do not believe that God is trinitarian. I do not believe that Jesus meant to start a new religion. I do not believe that the holy spirit of God is its own person. I have tried to believe what would make my life the easiest. Staying Catholic would be the easiest. But how can a religion be based on a mandate of belief?! We either believe something is true or we don't. We cannot help what we believe. That's like saying we must find someone attractive. Ludicrous! We are either attracted to someone or we aren't. There's no logical explanation for it. Same with religion. So I have to opt out.
I have tried to continue with my Catholic religion on the surface - attendance at mass, Catholic prayers and practice... but I am not Catholic at heart any longer. My heart is bursting with a desire to know God on a level that is not hindered by a sense of loyalty, or guilt, or mere convenience. The Christian programming I have received over the years - while perhaps well-meaning - has left me with a conundrum similar to the one I faced when my early desire to take vows of religious life were halted. I have been unable to get past those aspects of the Catholic Christian faith that I simple cannot accept. The result has been a stagnant personal life of the spirit. If I can't, in good conscience, tap into Christian prayers and practices in order to build my relationship with God, that leaves me high and dry. I have no framework to work with.
I was so excited about the whole Spiritually Independent notion that I wrote about previously. But once I wrote about it, I realized that it didn't resonate with me. It felt fake. Not having a community to share a spirituality with felt as though it wasn't real. Not having a history or tradition to link my spiritual practice with previous generations felt forced. These are the sort of things that the Catholic church provided that kept me around for so long.... until finally my conscience could no longer play along.
I believe in one God, indivisible, eternal, omnipotent and omniscient. I believe God created me - and all of creation - in love. I believe that God desires for me to draw closer to Him, to know Him, and to seek to please Him. I believe that He realized my limited ability to do so perfectly, and therefore will accept my good intentions and fill in my shortcomings with His grace. I believe that the only way I can have meaning in my life is if I am rooted in a religion that has a strong history and tradition, a religion that incorporates ritual to help the entire person become in tune with praying to God, a religion that focuses more on what we do know and can do, without getting tripped up about the details of God's nature or how we can never be good enough for God on our own.
If God is my father, how can my good intentions not be good enough for Him? If my daughter misses the mark and upsets me, but I know she meant well, how can I not instantly forgive her and give her another chance, again and again if need be? I don't need the blood of a substitute sacrifice to forgive my own child!
And so it is with this understanding that I slowly turn towards Reform Judaism. I have high hopes for this new leg of my journey. In practice, I believe it has many of the aspects of Catholicism that I appreciate - the history, tradition, ritual. In theology and lived spirituality, I see it close to Quakerism - free to discern where God is leading me and open to His spirit to have a unique road for me to travel. (I want to quickly note that while I felt drawn to Quakerism for a long time, a Quaker once made a negative comment about Catholics that actually explains precisely why I couldn't officially take on the full Quaker identity. He said that "some people [referring to Catholics] feel the need to light candles". Indeed - I need that ritual, which Quakerism lacks.)
So, practically speaking, what is my next step? Well, I have been open and honest with Alex about how I am feeling, because I know that my decisions will involve the entire family. We want to raise Maya with a strong faith in God, and we need to be on the same page regarding what context that will take place in. Alex seems open to learning about Judaism with no strings attached, and I couldn't ask for any more from him at this point. We will be attending our first Shabbat service in a couple of weeks at a Reform Temple. I imagine that actually coming in contact with other Jews on their own turf and seeing first hand how they worship will either entice me to continue, or stop me dead in my tracks. I pray to God that this will not turn into another dead end. I need to be settled spiritually by the time Maya is ready to start asking questions about God.
(I should note that as I read about Jewish practice, I am slooooooowly hoping to start incorporating some of these into our life. For several days now I've recited the Shema prayer in Hebrew twice daily. I've been trying to wrap my head around the wealth of grace prayers and at least say the Baruch "call to prayer" before eating. I'm learning to resist the automatic habit of crossing myself at the start and end of prayers. And while my participation at Mass has been distracted anyway since Alex and I take turns watching Maya and not really being able to pay full attention, there are two aspects of Mass that I need to eliminate right away if I am to truly discern Judaism: reception of Communion and recitation of the Nicene Creed. [Since weekly attendance at some sort of place of worship is important to me, until we establish a presence at a shul (syagogue), we need to stick with Mass attendance.] I've toyed with both of these ideas before, and ended up continuing with my own understanding. But now that I want to give Judaism a try, I need to focus my attention on what the Torah teaches, and not what the Church of Karolina teaches.)
Have I mentioned that I long to celebrate a true Shabbat? With the candle lighting, blessing of Maya, grace before and after meal, conscious attention paid to what we do and don't do from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday, and gathering for corporal worship at shul. Have I mentioned also that I long to study the Torah? Something deep inside tells me that there is a hidden jewel inside the Torah, and that I will not be disappointed if I undertake serious study of it.
There really are many starting points on my spiritual journey. I've discussed this elsewhere as well. I grew up in a culturally Catholic household with an equal dose of pagan influences and Church attendance/various Christianity-related traditions, something I actually was not aware of until I became more and more spiritual and religious and found resistance from my family. The horoscope and astrology in general were discussed as fact for as long as I can remember. It coexisted with regular Mass attendance, catechism classes, and home celebrations of holidays found on the liturgical calendar. What was not present, which finally tipped me off as to the lack of actual religious Catholic influence in my family, was that there was no discussion of Christian beliefs aside from the very vague existence of God and going to heaven after we die. There was likewise no family prayer, not even at mealtimes. Being Catholic was a fraction of our cultural identity, something we fit in between Polish sentiments, like the importance of the Polish language, agreement about the deliciousness of Polish foods, and a common history of persecution from all sides over the years.
It wasn't until many years after immigrating to the United States that my idea of what it meant to be Catholic was contradicted by what my family considered "Catholic enough". My senior year of high school, I felt a desire to draw closer to God. The only way I knew how to do so was to consider a religious vocation. I wanted to become a nun, and spend my days in prayer, study, and simple jobs around the convent. I never had the chance to actually discern this vocation, because I was promptly discouraged by my family. The idea of taking on such a lifestyle was akin to sadness in their eyes. They couldn't imagine that I might actually be fulfilled by a life of simplicity. Lacking any seriously religious adult role models in my life, I followed the advice of my family and gave up the idea of a religious life before it ever had a chance to germinate in my mind any further.
Some years later, after my journey took me out of the Church and to various denominations and non-Christian world views, I came across another road block from my family. I had come to feel God's presence envelope me and invite me into a personal relationship with Him. Since previously I thought the only way to have a relationship with God was through the consecrated life, and since that idea was quickly squashed, I hadn't pursued that relationship in any other way because I didn't know another way existed. And then, through years of exposure to Protestant Christians, I finally started to consider a life lived for God without the Catholic church. For a brief while, I was excited about my born-again faith and tried to share my excitement with my mom. In spite of what I thought were compelling arguments, she responded with "that's nice, but I'm still Catholic".
Then I tried to bring that fire I had for living for God into the Catholic sphere. I delved into Catholic history and theology and realized for the first time that what I was taught as a child was not the official, religious, Catholicism meant to bring me closer to God, but rather a mere cultural Catholicism. As it would turn out, in spite of both of us "being Catholic", my religious reasons and my family's cultural reasons put us at odds with each other; we might as well have been of different religions. My attempts at modest dress were ridiculed. My frequent activity at church functions was tolerated at best. I was keenly aware of my inability to say grace before meals in the presence of my family without it eliciting some sort of reaction - a raised eyebrow, a tongue-in-cheek joke, a sigh, or a discussion afterwards pointing out my lack of holiness in some area of my life. Any public display of my religious sentiments was a threat - presumably - to my less religious relatives. I was seen as acting holier-than-thou. My religious behavior was seen as unnecessary. Again, none of my relatives considered that perhaps this is just something that helps me live a more fulfilling life.
And so, with no support from my family to be religious, I found myself on my own as I searched for religious truth. Thankfully, God sent my husband Alex into my life early on in my adult life. He has always been open minded, and with time became religious as well. Let me clarify that he is religious in an open-minded sort of way. He is open about his belief in God, yet he does not presume to be certain that there is one religion that holds all truth about God. That is precisely where I find myself as well.
Yet in spite of my conclusion that no religion can possibly contain everything there is to know about God, I still long to belong to a religion I can live out with integrity and joy. It is not enough for me to simply be aware of my convictions without a larger body of believers reaffirming those convictions for me. It is no longer appropriate for me to worship at a Catholic church and simply tune out the parts of the liturgy that do not resonate with me. In fact, I can no longer, in good conscience, continue to associate myself with a Christian identity of any sort.
I love the teachings of Jesus, and for a long time I couldn't imagine abandoning his influence in my spiritual life. Yet I see my relationship with Jesus akin to my relationship to the late Polish Pope. I remember vividly keeping vigil when St. John Paul II's last days were being televised. I mourned my fellow countryman and namesake as if I knew him personally. Yet shortly after he died, I realized that since a Pole was no longer at the head of "my" church, I was relieved of my obligation to remain Catholic. Similarly, the more I've studied about religion, the Bible, and Jesus, the more I've felt that I've been fed an image of Jesus that does not belong to the actual Yeshua who walked this earth 2,000 years ago. I've been guilt tripped into believing without question. I was taught that my shortcomings in this life (my "sins") literally have a supra-temporal affect on Jesus; every time I "sin" (as defined by Christian authorities), I crucify Jesus! Can you imagine?! How does one get away from that level of brain-washing intact?
At any rate, with my daughter Maya having recently turned one year old (!), the dry spell of my spiritually journey has also turned from a very short lived but intense deepening of Christian Catholic faith to a months-long dark night of the soul, followed in recent months by a reemergence of a desire to reconnect to a spiritual community. Except that I've come out the other end of this past year with an itch that cannot be left unscratched; I simply do not believe that God is trinitarian. I do not believe that Jesus meant to start a new religion. I do not believe that the holy spirit of God is its own person. I have tried to believe what would make my life the easiest. Staying Catholic would be the easiest. But how can a religion be based on a mandate of belief?! We either believe something is true or we don't. We cannot help what we believe. That's like saying we must find someone attractive. Ludicrous! We are either attracted to someone or we aren't. There's no logical explanation for it. Same with religion. So I have to opt out.
I have tried to continue with my Catholic religion on the surface - attendance at mass, Catholic prayers and practice... but I am not Catholic at heart any longer. My heart is bursting with a desire to know God on a level that is not hindered by a sense of loyalty, or guilt, or mere convenience. The Christian programming I have received over the years - while perhaps well-meaning - has left me with a conundrum similar to the one I faced when my early desire to take vows of religious life were halted. I have been unable to get past those aspects of the Catholic Christian faith that I simple cannot accept. The result has been a stagnant personal life of the spirit. If I can't, in good conscience, tap into Christian prayers and practices in order to build my relationship with God, that leaves me high and dry. I have no framework to work with.
I was so excited about the whole Spiritually Independent notion that I wrote about previously. But once I wrote about it, I realized that it didn't resonate with me. It felt fake. Not having a community to share a spirituality with felt as though it wasn't real. Not having a history or tradition to link my spiritual practice with previous generations felt forced. These are the sort of things that the Catholic church provided that kept me around for so long.... until finally my conscience could no longer play along.
I believe in one God, indivisible, eternal, omnipotent and omniscient. I believe God created me - and all of creation - in love. I believe that God desires for me to draw closer to Him, to know Him, and to seek to please Him. I believe that He realized my limited ability to do so perfectly, and therefore will accept my good intentions and fill in my shortcomings with His grace. I believe that the only way I can have meaning in my life is if I am rooted in a religion that has a strong history and tradition, a religion that incorporates ritual to help the entire person become in tune with praying to God, a religion that focuses more on what we do know and can do, without getting tripped up about the details of God's nature or how we can never be good enough for God on our own.
If God is my father, how can my good intentions not be good enough for Him? If my daughter misses the mark and upsets me, but I know she meant well, how can I not instantly forgive her and give her another chance, again and again if need be? I don't need the blood of a substitute sacrifice to forgive my own child!
And so it is with this understanding that I slowly turn towards Reform Judaism. I have high hopes for this new leg of my journey. In practice, I believe it has many of the aspects of Catholicism that I appreciate - the history, tradition, ritual. In theology and lived spirituality, I see it close to Quakerism - free to discern where God is leading me and open to His spirit to have a unique road for me to travel. (I want to quickly note that while I felt drawn to Quakerism for a long time, a Quaker once made a negative comment about Catholics that actually explains precisely why I couldn't officially take on the full Quaker identity. He said that "some people [referring to Catholics] feel the need to light candles". Indeed - I need that ritual, which Quakerism lacks.)
So, practically speaking, what is my next step? Well, I have been open and honest with Alex about how I am feeling, because I know that my decisions will involve the entire family. We want to raise Maya with a strong faith in God, and we need to be on the same page regarding what context that will take place in. Alex seems open to learning about Judaism with no strings attached, and I couldn't ask for any more from him at this point. We will be attending our first Shabbat service in a couple of weeks at a Reform Temple. I imagine that actually coming in contact with other Jews on their own turf and seeing first hand how they worship will either entice me to continue, or stop me dead in my tracks. I pray to God that this will not turn into another dead end. I need to be settled spiritually by the time Maya is ready to start asking questions about God.
(I should note that as I read about Jewish practice, I am slooooooowly hoping to start incorporating some of these into our life. For several days now I've recited the Shema prayer in Hebrew twice daily. I've been trying to wrap my head around the wealth of grace prayers and at least say the Baruch "call to prayer" before eating. I'm learning to resist the automatic habit of crossing myself at the start and end of prayers. And while my participation at Mass has been distracted anyway since Alex and I take turns watching Maya and not really being able to pay full attention, there are two aspects of Mass that I need to eliminate right away if I am to truly discern Judaism: reception of Communion and recitation of the Nicene Creed. [Since weekly attendance at some sort of place of worship is important to me, until we establish a presence at a shul (syagogue), we need to stick with Mass attendance.] I've toyed with both of these ideas before, and ended up continuing with my own understanding. But now that I want to give Judaism a try, I need to focus my attention on what the Torah teaches, and not what the Church of Karolina teaches.)
Have I mentioned that I long to celebrate a true Shabbat? With the candle lighting, blessing of Maya, grace before and after meal, conscious attention paid to what we do and don't do from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday, and gathering for corporal worship at shul. Have I mentioned also that I long to study the Torah? Something deep inside tells me that there is a hidden jewel inside the Torah, and that I will not be disappointed if I undertake serious study of it.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
What About Judaism?
I reverted to draft several of my posts from this year that dealt with my spiritual journey. I felt a bit uneasy about having these personal thoughts in the virtual world. I felt... embarrassed (?) for not having a firm grasp on my religious or spiritual life as a thirty-something adult. But upon further reflection, I decided to repblish them. They are reflections of where I've been on the journey, not a declaration of my final arrival. Rather, I'm finding that my spiritual journey continues....
It's interesting. At the completion of the Called and Gifted small groups program I blogged about earlier, I started reading a book on deliverance and was signed up to receive intercessory prayer... a talk during the meetings made Satan a possibility to me. But I couldn't finish the book. I found that blaming Satan for my own weakness of character, my own having missed the mark, is a copout, much like turning over my salvation to the sacrificial gift of Jesus on the cross. Rather than being personally responsible for my own actions, I merely aligned myself with the good or bad powers that be and let them duke it out. Also, a list of potential activities/experiences in the book that claim to have possibly let the influence of evil into my life included visiting non-Christian sanctuaries and practicing yoga. Um, ok. So our very own popes have been guilty of the first infraction due to their attempts at interreligious dialogue, eh? And I only hear this nonsense about yoga from people who have never tried it for the physical benefits. Just because it happens to come from a Hindu tradition doesn't mean it's impossible to do certain poses or breathe in a way that is non-Christian! This sort of narrow-mindedness brought me back to a level of even-headedness.
I swapped the book for another, on forming intentional disciples of Christ. The first chapter read like a textbook - something I actually found enticing, given my extended academic history. What I read was the percentages of people converting into and out of Catholicism, and their reasons. And what resonated with me was that it made no difference in the bigger scheme of things. I am coming to the end of reading a series of books on mystical experiences in the world's religions. I read the Bagavad Gita with interest, though it was certainly a foreign concept to understand the different manifestations of "God" in non-Christian language. I read the Tibetan Book of the Dead.... correction, I read half of it. The introductory chapters were very insightful. The actual meat and potatoes were a series of instuctions and descriptions of realities for those transitioning from this life to the next. It was so cumbersome that I felt I was reading the same thing over and over again. I read the Tao Te Ching with a lot more excitement, and everything in it resonated with me... everything except the lack of a personal God. I read half of the Essential Rumi, and even though I enjoyed the imagery in his poetry, to be honest, I got bored. I stopped without finishing the entire book. Then I read the Essential Kabbalah, and again, I was fascinated like with the Tao Te Ching. Only this time, God was there! I finished the whole book with delight. I am now on to rereading The Way of a Pilgrim, a book I ready many years ago, for the Christian rendition of mysticism.
But the reason I bring this up is that the timing of these various books, along with the books and talks stemming from the Called and Gifted workshop, slowly etched a solid realization in my heart. Religion does not hold Truth. Truth cannot be contained in any one religion. It cannot be contained period. It can merely be alluded to, but as soon as we begin to describe God and ultimate reality with words, we do God a disservice. The Essential Kabbalah said as much, too.
On a whim, as I do every now and again, I viewed a few YouTube videos about conversion to Judaism. I like to hear other people's stories about their spiritual journeys, and I hadn't spent much time with Judaism before. I became intrigued. Later that night, I looked up some basic information on Reform Judaism on my smart phone, as I was waiting for Maya to drift off to sleep. I don't know why I hadn't given Judaism more thought in the past. I know that I was always attracted to the simplicity of the theology - that the Jewish God was not Trinitarian. But being opposed to circumcision on ethical grounds (and from an attachment parenting perspective) I have long assumed that Judaism just wasn't going to work for me. For one, I wanted any potential conversion to be something we could do as a family, and I knew expecting Alex to get cut was not going to fly, not that I even wanted him to. Plus, if we ever had a son, I wouldn't cut him, so I just couldn't belong to a religion that expected something I considered cruel.
And then I read that Reform Judaism does not require circumcision of its converts. It's as if the one stumbling block to even looking into the faith has finally been removed for me. Once I didn't have that consideration blocking me, I was able to read about the other aspects of Reform Judaism that I am finding very enthralling.
Aspects of Judaism in general that I find interesting (even if some are very small):
1. Mezuzah (a tiny scroll found at the front door of a Jewish home). In movies I've seen Jews touching it as they entered or left and then putting their fingers to their lips. This always reminded me of the holy water font in Catholic churches, and I long wanted something like this at my front door, some symbol, some way of reminding myself of God's centrality in my life in this way.
2. Shabbat (the Sabbath). I respect the way Jews truly honor the Lord's Day, while only few Christians do. I like the idea of setting aside this time for God and family and nothing else.
3. The importance of study. Studying the Torah is central to Jewish life, at least to Jews who are not mothers to young children! Given my extended history of study, the idea that this can be a part of my religion is exciting.
4. The centrality of the family. As much as I respect the Catholic notion of having various vocations, including the religious celibate life and the single lay celibate life, in addition to marriage, family is where the heart is, after all.
5. The undeniable oneness of God. I simply cannot get this in a Christian denomination. No matter how the Trinity is explained, it muddles the oneness of G-d for me. Essentially, G-d cannot be explained, and the Trinity is a human attempt at explaining G-d.
Now, specifically within Reform Judaism, I find the following to be further aspects of interest for me:
1. Circumcision for converts is not required.
2. There is no creed that all Jews must adhere to! There are broad guidelines, but outside of the basic belief in a single God and the Torah being instructive for our moral life, each individual is to discern faith. Judaism is about practice, not belief. I love this, because one cannot help what one believes. However, one does have control over what one does!
3. Torah interpretation is left to individual discernment. Which mitzvohs one follows are likewise left up to one's own discernment. This includes to what degree one keeps kashrut (kosher).
4. Women and men are more equal - both can be rabbis, for instance.
These aren't all inclusive considerations by any means, just based on my introductory understanding of Judaism and Reform Judaism in particular. Essentially, I wanted the freedom that comes with Protestantism in terms of discernment of how God wants each individual to live their life, expressed most liberally within Quakerism. Yet I also love the ritual and mystery I grew up with in Catholicism. At first glance, it seems that Reform Judaism may be able to provide a bit of both.
I found a synagogue nearby and hope to make it to service this Shabbat. Alex is down with it, so we'll see. I've been disillusioned with a faith in the past after visiting their communal worship space. But maybe I've grown in my expectations. Shalom :)
It's interesting. At the completion of the Called and Gifted small groups program I blogged about earlier, I started reading a book on deliverance and was signed up to receive intercessory prayer... a talk during the meetings made Satan a possibility to me. But I couldn't finish the book. I found that blaming Satan for my own weakness of character, my own having missed the mark, is a copout, much like turning over my salvation to the sacrificial gift of Jesus on the cross. Rather than being personally responsible for my own actions, I merely aligned myself with the good or bad powers that be and let them duke it out. Also, a list of potential activities/experiences in the book that claim to have possibly let the influence of evil into my life included visiting non-Christian sanctuaries and practicing yoga. Um, ok. So our very own popes have been guilty of the first infraction due to their attempts at interreligious dialogue, eh? And I only hear this nonsense about yoga from people who have never tried it for the physical benefits. Just because it happens to come from a Hindu tradition doesn't mean it's impossible to do certain poses or breathe in a way that is non-Christian! This sort of narrow-mindedness brought me back to a level of even-headedness.
I swapped the book for another, on forming intentional disciples of Christ. The first chapter read like a textbook - something I actually found enticing, given my extended academic history. What I read was the percentages of people converting into and out of Catholicism, and their reasons. And what resonated with me was that it made no difference in the bigger scheme of things. I am coming to the end of reading a series of books on mystical experiences in the world's religions. I read the Bagavad Gita with interest, though it was certainly a foreign concept to understand the different manifestations of "God" in non-Christian language. I read the Tibetan Book of the Dead.... correction, I read half of it. The introductory chapters were very insightful. The actual meat and potatoes were a series of instuctions and descriptions of realities for those transitioning from this life to the next. It was so cumbersome that I felt I was reading the same thing over and over again. I read the Tao Te Ching with a lot more excitement, and everything in it resonated with me... everything except the lack of a personal God. I read half of the Essential Rumi, and even though I enjoyed the imagery in his poetry, to be honest, I got bored. I stopped without finishing the entire book. Then I read the Essential Kabbalah, and again, I was fascinated like with the Tao Te Ching. Only this time, God was there! I finished the whole book with delight. I am now on to rereading The Way of a Pilgrim, a book I ready many years ago, for the Christian rendition of mysticism.
But the reason I bring this up is that the timing of these various books, along with the books and talks stemming from the Called and Gifted workshop, slowly etched a solid realization in my heart. Religion does not hold Truth. Truth cannot be contained in any one religion. It cannot be contained period. It can merely be alluded to, but as soon as we begin to describe God and ultimate reality with words, we do God a disservice. The Essential Kabbalah said as much, too.
On a whim, as I do every now and again, I viewed a few YouTube videos about conversion to Judaism. I like to hear other people's stories about their spiritual journeys, and I hadn't spent much time with Judaism before. I became intrigued. Later that night, I looked up some basic information on Reform Judaism on my smart phone, as I was waiting for Maya to drift off to sleep. I don't know why I hadn't given Judaism more thought in the past. I know that I was always attracted to the simplicity of the theology - that the Jewish God was not Trinitarian. But being opposed to circumcision on ethical grounds (and from an attachment parenting perspective) I have long assumed that Judaism just wasn't going to work for me. For one, I wanted any potential conversion to be something we could do as a family, and I knew expecting Alex to get cut was not going to fly, not that I even wanted him to. Plus, if we ever had a son, I wouldn't cut him, so I just couldn't belong to a religion that expected something I considered cruel.
And then I read that Reform Judaism does not require circumcision of its converts. It's as if the one stumbling block to even looking into the faith has finally been removed for me. Once I didn't have that consideration blocking me, I was able to read about the other aspects of Reform Judaism that I am finding very enthralling.
Aspects of Judaism in general that I find interesting (even if some are very small):
1. Mezuzah (a tiny scroll found at the front door of a Jewish home). In movies I've seen Jews touching it as they entered or left and then putting their fingers to their lips. This always reminded me of the holy water font in Catholic churches, and I long wanted something like this at my front door, some symbol, some way of reminding myself of God's centrality in my life in this way.
2. Shabbat (the Sabbath). I respect the way Jews truly honor the Lord's Day, while only few Christians do. I like the idea of setting aside this time for God and family and nothing else.
3. The importance of study. Studying the Torah is central to Jewish life, at least to Jews who are not mothers to young children! Given my extended history of study, the idea that this can be a part of my religion is exciting.
4. The centrality of the family. As much as I respect the Catholic notion of having various vocations, including the religious celibate life and the single lay celibate life, in addition to marriage, family is where the heart is, after all.
5. The undeniable oneness of God. I simply cannot get this in a Christian denomination. No matter how the Trinity is explained, it muddles the oneness of G-d for me. Essentially, G-d cannot be explained, and the Trinity is a human attempt at explaining G-d.
Now, specifically within Reform Judaism, I find the following to be further aspects of interest for me:
1. Circumcision for converts is not required.
2. There is no creed that all Jews must adhere to! There are broad guidelines, but outside of the basic belief in a single God and the Torah being instructive for our moral life, each individual is to discern faith. Judaism is about practice, not belief. I love this, because one cannot help what one believes. However, one does have control over what one does!
3. Torah interpretation is left to individual discernment. Which mitzvohs one follows are likewise left up to one's own discernment. This includes to what degree one keeps kashrut (kosher).
4. Women and men are more equal - both can be rabbis, for instance.
These aren't all inclusive considerations by any means, just based on my introductory understanding of Judaism and Reform Judaism in particular. Essentially, I wanted the freedom that comes with Protestantism in terms of discernment of how God wants each individual to live their life, expressed most liberally within Quakerism. Yet I also love the ritual and mystery I grew up with in Catholicism. At first glance, it seems that Reform Judaism may be able to provide a bit of both.
I found a synagogue nearby and hope to make it to service this Shabbat. Alex is down with it, so we'll see. I've been disillusioned with a faith in the past after visiting their communal worship space. But maybe I've grown in my expectations. Shalom :)
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Understanding Each Other
Over the years, Alex and I have greatly benefited from learning about our own and each other's temperaments, love languages, personality styles, etc. It has helped us to remember that just because I am a certain way, just because I see the world in a particular light, just because I have this or that preference, doesn't mean that everyone does. With that understanding comes an ongoing attempt to try to cater to the other person, so that our relationship is a give-and-take. These insights have been so enlightening for us, that we try to share what we have learned with anyone and everyone who will listen.
We've taken personality-type quizzes while in the Army, on spiritual retreats, and through job enrichment workshops. But our passion for understanding each other started when we attended a marriage enrichment retreat. (However, this does not mean that these insights are somehow limited to only romantic relationships!)
While on our WorldWide Marriage Encounter weekend, we learned that I am a Thinker and Alex is a Catalyst. (The other two personality styles described were that of Helper and Organizer.) It was eye-opening for me to understand that there is a reason why Alex tends to do or say things to annoy me - this only happens when he's bored and trying to get a reaction just to have some fun with it. He doesn't mean for it to be disrespectful. This is actually a useful skill when it comes to getting out of a rut of some kind, be that social or work-related. Catalysts make things happen. If nothing is going on, invite a Catalyst, and things will start to happen! Ever since making this discovery, I no longer let it get to me when he tries to get on my nerves, because now I know that that isn't his intention at all. In fact, whenever he starts to do something that causes an annoyed reaction in me, I'm now able to step back and call him on it: "you're being a Catalyst". We have a good laugh about it and a potential argument is dissolved before it begins. Alex, on the other hand, is able to understand that whatever he asks me, I need to think about it first. Whatever he wants me to try to do, I'll need to think about it first. He understands why I am not spontaneous - that would take all the fun out of thinking about it first!
Another thing we learned on our weekend that we had previously read about in a book: There are five love languages that we utilize when considering how we express our love for others, and how we interpret others' love for us. Gifts, acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch are different ways we can show someone that we care about them. If two people speak the same love language (so to speak), then their mutual expressions of love are pretty effortless. Each knows what the other wants because it's what they want, too. But when they speak different love languages, most people do not consider the fact that just because I like something, someone else may not. My primary love language is words of affirmation. I need to hear praise, compliments, encouragement. I actually need to hear or read these sentiments in words. It is not enough to imply it for me. I do not feel accepted, appreciated, or loved if these words don't come sincerely and frequently.
Alex, on the other hand, speaks Acts of Service. He knows he is loved when someone does something for him. And serving others is how he expresses his care as well. He will go out of his way if need be to run an errand, do a chore, help in whatever way he can. This action is how he shows he cares. The words to him are unnecessary. Whereas I like to voice my love for him, but never connected mundane tasks like doing the dishes with an expression of my love. Thanks to this realization about the different love languages, I have started to make a point of doing things I don't like to do but need to be done, because they now carry a special meaning. They're not just chores anymore, but expressions of my care for Alex. This knowledge makes the task much more pleasant for me, and Alex gets a steady dose of affirmation that I care about him. To a lesser degree, we enjoy quality time and physical touch as well, but luckily neither of us is big on gifts as an expression of love. (I say luckily because when one person speaks Gifts and the other does not, a lot of arguments about "wasted" money can ensue. When both or neither speaks Gifts, there isn't this problem.)
Our temperaments are another key to understanding each other. We read about the four temperaments - Choleric, Sanguine, Phlegmatic, and Melancholic - in a book. It was after reading about these four temperaments that I realized I could apply this information to any relationship, not just my marriage. It was no surprise to me that I am Melancholic - this would follow if I'm a Thinker according to the previous assessment. Alex is a Sanguine - a friendly, happy-go-lucky life of the party. Again, makes sense for a Catalyst to always be looking for a good time! And then I read the section about Cholerics and saw my mother. Suddenly, I began to understand why we often butted heads. Apparently, the most difficult temperament for a Melancholic child to have in a parent is Choleric! I'm overly sensitive - Cholerics are the least sensitive of the bunch. Therefore, I take every little thing personally and dwell on it (remember, I'm a Thinker! That's what I do - I think, overthink, psychoanalyze every comment, gesture, action.)
One of the latest contributors to our wealth of knowledge about how different personalities can better get along comes from a parenting book: Raising Your Spirited Child, by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka. I ordered the book when Maya was about 4 months old, suspecting that she may be "spirited", a euphemism that basically means having more challenging behavior. To my surprise, as I started reading the fascinating descriptions of what a spirited child is like, why, and what strategies can be helpful in working with - rather than against - a spirited child, I started to see myself in the role of spirited child! No one ever talks about spirited adults, but it makes sense that spirited children grow up to be spirited adults! So what can be expected of a spirited person? The aspects that apply to me include: a negative first reaction, slow to transition, intense reactions, sensitive, persistent, perceptive, serious and analytical mood. Two other criteria are common among spirited folks: high energy and irregularity in bodily functions (sleep, hunger, bathroom breaks). Maya seems to fit the description of a spirited child after all. For instance, we cannot get her on any sort of sleeping schedule. Her bedtime can vary by two or more hours, regardless how we try to finagle her naps. But she warrants her own post!
Let me flesh out how these attributes look in me. A negative first reaction is pretty self-explanatory. Whenever I am asked to try something new, for instance, my immediate reaction is no. I often come around to a yes, but for someone who doesn't know this about me they may give up after the first try. Similarly, I'm slow to transition to anything new. It takes me longer than most people to feel comfortable in any new endeavor. I have strong (intense) reactions to my emotions, both positive and negative. Some may say that I "overreact" because of this. (Just ask Alex how I react to something I find very funny!) I'm also sensitive, so I experience my emotions more deeply than many others. If I'm sad, I'm automatically very sad. If I'm upset, I'm quite angry. I am persistent when I get fixated on wanting to do something. This can be good in that it keeps me from quitting too easily. Then again, it can be bad in that I may come across as stubborn and unyielding. I'm more perceptive than others, too. I notice things others don't give a second thought to. I have an eye for grammatical errors (don't call me on any typos here!), I notice sexist language. I observe subtle facial expressions and intonation in people. As a whole, I tend to stay serious and analytical, which makes sense if I'm always thinking about what I notice!
Another somewhat less recent addition to our repertoire has been the Called and Gifted workshop and small group discussions that followed. Alex and I both went through the workshop at our previous church last year, before I was pregnant with Maya. Then I went through it again this year, and followed up with 7 weeks of small group discussions. The idea behind the Called and Gifted workshop is that God gives different people different gifts that He intends for us to use in order to share His grace with other. These are different from talents, which are merely things we are good at. Charisms are skills we are meant to use for the benefit of others. We can't help but share them, and they're bound to have positive results when used in the correct spirit. There are many possibilities, some not even included in the inventory of the workshop. My most likely charisms are writing, teaching, knowledge - all in line with the other assessments that indicate that I'm a melancholic thinker who is perceptive, intense, and sensitive. Alex, on the other hand, suspects his charisms include service (which makes total sense since his love language is acts of service).
With this background information, in a future post, I will try to delve into some of my other relationships in light of the differences between us.
We've taken personality-type quizzes while in the Army, on spiritual retreats, and through job enrichment workshops. But our passion for understanding each other started when we attended a marriage enrichment retreat. (However, this does not mean that these insights are somehow limited to only romantic relationships!)
While on our WorldWide Marriage Encounter weekend, we learned that I am a Thinker and Alex is a Catalyst. (The other two personality styles described were that of Helper and Organizer.) It was eye-opening for me to understand that there is a reason why Alex tends to do or say things to annoy me - this only happens when he's bored and trying to get a reaction just to have some fun with it. He doesn't mean for it to be disrespectful. This is actually a useful skill when it comes to getting out of a rut of some kind, be that social or work-related. Catalysts make things happen. If nothing is going on, invite a Catalyst, and things will start to happen! Ever since making this discovery, I no longer let it get to me when he tries to get on my nerves, because now I know that that isn't his intention at all. In fact, whenever he starts to do something that causes an annoyed reaction in me, I'm now able to step back and call him on it: "you're being a Catalyst". We have a good laugh about it and a potential argument is dissolved before it begins. Alex, on the other hand, is able to understand that whatever he asks me, I need to think about it first. Whatever he wants me to try to do, I'll need to think about it first. He understands why I am not spontaneous - that would take all the fun out of thinking about it first!
Another thing we learned on our weekend that we had previously read about in a book: There are five love languages that we utilize when considering how we express our love for others, and how we interpret others' love for us. Gifts, acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch are different ways we can show someone that we care about them. If two people speak the same love language (so to speak), then their mutual expressions of love are pretty effortless. Each knows what the other wants because it's what they want, too. But when they speak different love languages, most people do not consider the fact that just because I like something, someone else may not. My primary love language is words of affirmation. I need to hear praise, compliments, encouragement. I actually need to hear or read these sentiments in words. It is not enough to imply it for me. I do not feel accepted, appreciated, or loved if these words don't come sincerely and frequently.
Alex, on the other hand, speaks Acts of Service. He knows he is loved when someone does something for him. And serving others is how he expresses his care as well. He will go out of his way if need be to run an errand, do a chore, help in whatever way he can. This action is how he shows he cares. The words to him are unnecessary. Whereas I like to voice my love for him, but never connected mundane tasks like doing the dishes with an expression of my love. Thanks to this realization about the different love languages, I have started to make a point of doing things I don't like to do but need to be done, because they now carry a special meaning. They're not just chores anymore, but expressions of my care for Alex. This knowledge makes the task much more pleasant for me, and Alex gets a steady dose of affirmation that I care about him. To a lesser degree, we enjoy quality time and physical touch as well, but luckily neither of us is big on gifts as an expression of love. (I say luckily because when one person speaks Gifts and the other does not, a lot of arguments about "wasted" money can ensue. When both or neither speaks Gifts, there isn't this problem.)
Our temperaments are another key to understanding each other. We read about the four temperaments - Choleric, Sanguine, Phlegmatic, and Melancholic - in a book. It was after reading about these four temperaments that I realized I could apply this information to any relationship, not just my marriage. It was no surprise to me that I am Melancholic - this would follow if I'm a Thinker according to the previous assessment. Alex is a Sanguine - a friendly, happy-go-lucky life of the party. Again, makes sense for a Catalyst to always be looking for a good time! And then I read the section about Cholerics and saw my mother. Suddenly, I began to understand why we often butted heads. Apparently, the most difficult temperament for a Melancholic child to have in a parent is Choleric! I'm overly sensitive - Cholerics are the least sensitive of the bunch. Therefore, I take every little thing personally and dwell on it (remember, I'm a Thinker! That's what I do - I think, overthink, psychoanalyze every comment, gesture, action.)
One of the latest contributors to our wealth of knowledge about how different personalities can better get along comes from a parenting book: Raising Your Spirited Child, by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka. I ordered the book when Maya was about 4 months old, suspecting that she may be "spirited", a euphemism that basically means having more challenging behavior. To my surprise, as I started reading the fascinating descriptions of what a spirited child is like, why, and what strategies can be helpful in working with - rather than against - a spirited child, I started to see myself in the role of spirited child! No one ever talks about spirited adults, but it makes sense that spirited children grow up to be spirited adults! So what can be expected of a spirited person? The aspects that apply to me include: a negative first reaction, slow to transition, intense reactions, sensitive, persistent, perceptive, serious and analytical mood. Two other criteria are common among spirited folks: high energy and irregularity in bodily functions (sleep, hunger, bathroom breaks). Maya seems to fit the description of a spirited child after all. For instance, we cannot get her on any sort of sleeping schedule. Her bedtime can vary by two or more hours, regardless how we try to finagle her naps. But she warrants her own post!
Let me flesh out how these attributes look in me. A negative first reaction is pretty self-explanatory. Whenever I am asked to try something new, for instance, my immediate reaction is no. I often come around to a yes, but for someone who doesn't know this about me they may give up after the first try. Similarly, I'm slow to transition to anything new. It takes me longer than most people to feel comfortable in any new endeavor. I have strong (intense) reactions to my emotions, both positive and negative. Some may say that I "overreact" because of this. (Just ask Alex how I react to something I find very funny!) I'm also sensitive, so I experience my emotions more deeply than many others. If I'm sad, I'm automatically very sad. If I'm upset, I'm quite angry. I am persistent when I get fixated on wanting to do something. This can be good in that it keeps me from quitting too easily. Then again, it can be bad in that I may come across as stubborn and unyielding. I'm more perceptive than others, too. I notice things others don't give a second thought to. I have an eye for grammatical errors (don't call me on any typos here!), I notice sexist language. I observe subtle facial expressions and intonation in people. As a whole, I tend to stay serious and analytical, which makes sense if I'm always thinking about what I notice!
Another somewhat less recent addition to our repertoire has been the Called and Gifted workshop and small group discussions that followed. Alex and I both went through the workshop at our previous church last year, before I was pregnant with Maya. Then I went through it again this year, and followed up with 7 weeks of small group discussions. The idea behind the Called and Gifted workshop is that God gives different people different gifts that He intends for us to use in order to share His grace with other. These are different from talents, which are merely things we are good at. Charisms are skills we are meant to use for the benefit of others. We can't help but share them, and they're bound to have positive results when used in the correct spirit. There are many possibilities, some not even included in the inventory of the workshop. My most likely charisms are writing, teaching, knowledge - all in line with the other assessments that indicate that I'm a melancholic thinker who is perceptive, intense, and sensitive. Alex, on the other hand, suspects his charisms include service (which makes total sense since his love language is acts of service).
With this background information, in a future post, I will try to delve into some of my other relationships in light of the differences between us.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Worship for Nonreligious Theists
In my last post, I only briefly mentioned the need to worship God. It may seem obvious to many religious folks that a belief in God necessitates His (Her) worship, but this is not always the case. Satanists "believe" in God, but they certainly do not worship Him.
Deists believe in a creator God who, after creating the universe, has sat back and let everything run its course without any further involvement from Him. Deists tend not to speculate on an afterlife, and their moral code is not dictated from the top down, so there is no dogma that ushers them towards any particular form of worship, or any worship at all.
Buddhism, as it turns out, is not exactly atheistic. The Buddha actually didn't teach anything about God's existence one way or the other. Rather, he was concerned with the issue of suffering and how we as individuals, through our own agency, can eliminate suffering in our lives. With the focus being on the nature of self, there wasn't much room left for worship. That's not to say that there aren't folk understandings of Buddhism where indeed followers worship a god or gods, but this generally seems to be a merging of Buddhism with other faiths.
Which brings me to why I believe that worship ought to have a prominent place in my spiritual life as a Theist. Perhaps I'm carrying over a bit from Christianity, but I do see God as a parental figure. Just as we normally assume that our human parents deserve honor (be that because of the Catholic 4th/Protestant 5th Commandment taken from the book of Exodus, or a more secular sense of respect for one's elders), so too does our Heavenly Parent deserve honor for having brought us into being.
So what exactly is worship? I like this definition: "extravagant respect or admiration for or devotion to an object of esteem". Let's examine this further.
Respect is "a feeling of admiring someone or something that is good, valuable, important, serious, etc, and should be treated in an appropriate way". It's the opposite of the common adolescent attitude of "I don't care". In essence, respect is caring for and about something/someone that one has deemed important enough to be cared for/about. Admiration is synonymous to respect.
Extravagant generally means "more than is usual, necessary, or proper". Certainly, this is a subjective judgment call. Towards the end of my ESL teaching career, I was also working as an ESL coordinator assistant of sorts. We frequently had last minute class cancellations, causing undue stress and financial worries to the instructors, who never knew just how much income they could count on. My last semester working was no exception. When one of my colleagues lost several of her classes, I immediately offered for her to teach one of the classes that had been assigned to me. I saw nothing out of the ordinary about it, especially since I had the administrative work to fall back on. Yet my supervisor made a point to praise my decision as "very collegial". The instructor likewise was quite grateful. It would seem that my simple act of sharing (think back to Kindergarten!) was seen as extravagant - more than usual or necessary.
Having said that, can one really have "too much" respect for God Almighty?! I think not, so I'll take it to mean indeed "more than is usual", but certainly not "more than is necessary or proper".
Devotion means a strong love and loyalty and the use on one's time, money, energy, and skills for a particular purpose. Within the realm of religion, it refers to private acts of worship, those done aside from the "regular corporate worship of a congregation". So it is the things we do out of our own inclination, regardless if others join us in doing them, that we hope show our respect and admiration for the object of our devotion.
And finally, esteem - respect, affection, high regard. And so, the object of esteem is simply that to which we direct our devotion, respect, and admiration.
Let us recap. We have an object of esteem - God. We hold God in high regard, seriously considering Him important, valuable, good. We dedicate whatever we have - time, effort, money, skill - to express our respect for Him. And we do so more than we show respect for anything else that we find worthy of our attention.
Now that we have a working definition of what worship ought to look like, the next step will be to itemize possible expressions of worshiping God outside of the traditions of any single religion. One possibility would be to simply mix and match - utilize the devotions found in various world religions to make up our private spiritual practice. This in fact is what many Spiritual Independents do. (I should note that my taking on the label of "Theist", or more specifically "nonreligious Catholic Theist" is merely a more specific understanding of the bigger label I had previously taken on, namely that of a Spiritual Independent.)
Another possibility is to look outside of religious traditions all together, into the wider, secular world, and see how else I might worship God. How do I show respect or admiration for my parents? For my spouse? For my daughter? For my elders? For morally sound authority figures? For the planet, even? What do I do so that not only they know that I admire and respect them, but that others also see this? How do I spend my time, money, effort, skill? Again, this is something many Spiritual Independents incorporate into their private spiritual practice.
What comes to mind for me includes attachment parenting, minimalism, environmental stewardship, and inter-cultural open-mindedness. How do I live these expressions such that they are clearly directed towards an appreciation and uplifting of God in my life?
Deists believe in a creator God who, after creating the universe, has sat back and let everything run its course without any further involvement from Him. Deists tend not to speculate on an afterlife, and their moral code is not dictated from the top down, so there is no dogma that ushers them towards any particular form of worship, or any worship at all.
Buddhism, as it turns out, is not exactly atheistic. The Buddha actually didn't teach anything about God's existence one way or the other. Rather, he was concerned with the issue of suffering and how we as individuals, through our own agency, can eliminate suffering in our lives. With the focus being on the nature of self, there wasn't much room left for worship. That's not to say that there aren't folk understandings of Buddhism where indeed followers worship a god or gods, but this generally seems to be a merging of Buddhism with other faiths.
Which brings me to why I believe that worship ought to have a prominent place in my spiritual life as a Theist. Perhaps I'm carrying over a bit from Christianity, but I do see God as a parental figure. Just as we normally assume that our human parents deserve honor (be that because of the Catholic 4th/Protestant 5th Commandment taken from the book of Exodus, or a more secular sense of respect for one's elders), so too does our Heavenly Parent deserve honor for having brought us into being.
So what exactly is worship? I like this definition: "extravagant respect or admiration for or devotion to an object of esteem". Let's examine this further.
Respect is "a feeling of admiring someone or something that is good, valuable, important, serious, etc, and should be treated in an appropriate way". It's the opposite of the common adolescent attitude of "I don't care". In essence, respect is caring for and about something/someone that one has deemed important enough to be cared for/about. Admiration is synonymous to respect.
Extravagant generally means "more than is usual, necessary, or proper". Certainly, this is a subjective judgment call. Towards the end of my ESL teaching career, I was also working as an ESL coordinator assistant of sorts. We frequently had last minute class cancellations, causing undue stress and financial worries to the instructors, who never knew just how much income they could count on. My last semester working was no exception. When one of my colleagues lost several of her classes, I immediately offered for her to teach one of the classes that had been assigned to me. I saw nothing out of the ordinary about it, especially since I had the administrative work to fall back on. Yet my supervisor made a point to praise my decision as "very collegial". The instructor likewise was quite grateful. It would seem that my simple act of sharing (think back to Kindergarten!) was seen as extravagant - more than usual or necessary.
Having said that, can one really have "too much" respect for God Almighty?! I think not, so I'll take it to mean indeed "more than is usual", but certainly not "more than is necessary or proper".
Devotion means a strong love and loyalty and the use on one's time, money, energy, and skills for a particular purpose. Within the realm of religion, it refers to private acts of worship, those done aside from the "regular corporate worship of a congregation". So it is the things we do out of our own inclination, regardless if others join us in doing them, that we hope show our respect and admiration for the object of our devotion.
And finally, esteem - respect, affection, high regard. And so, the object of esteem is simply that to which we direct our devotion, respect, and admiration.
Let us recap. We have an object of esteem - God. We hold God in high regard, seriously considering Him important, valuable, good. We dedicate whatever we have - time, effort, money, skill - to express our respect for Him. And we do so more than we show respect for anything else that we find worthy of our attention.
Now that we have a working definition of what worship ought to look like, the next step will be to itemize possible expressions of worshiping God outside of the traditions of any single religion. One possibility would be to simply mix and match - utilize the devotions found in various world religions to make up our private spiritual practice. This in fact is what many Spiritual Independents do. (I should note that my taking on the label of "Theist", or more specifically "nonreligious Catholic Theist" is merely a more specific understanding of the bigger label I had previously taken on, namely that of a Spiritual Independent.)
Another possibility is to look outside of religious traditions all together, into the wider, secular world, and see how else I might worship God. How do I show respect or admiration for my parents? For my spouse? For my daughter? For my elders? For morally sound authority figures? For the planet, even? What do I do so that not only they know that I admire and respect them, but that others also see this? How do I spend my time, money, effort, skill? Again, this is something many Spiritual Independents incorporate into their private spiritual practice.
What comes to mind for me includes attachment parenting, minimalism, environmental stewardship, and inter-cultural open-mindedness. How do I live these expressions such that they are clearly directed towards an appreciation and uplifting of God in my life?
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