from part 3.....
............... I resisted. I slipped. I went under.......
I choked out loud as he lifted me back upright from the waist-deep water. It was not quite the sign I had waited for. The Father and Son were not accepting me!! My sins were not washed away, I was being choked by the Holy Ghost because I was a pretender.... But no one else seemed to notice my dejected, agitated and impure state. I was congratulated and given a towel and welcomed solemnly into the church..... but I never felt quite at ease there again. What kept me from losing all hope, was the fact that one could, possibly, theoretically, still find faith, renounce all prior and subsequent sin and be born again - again.
It didn't happen..
I am a curious person, and over the intervening years I studied many spiritual paths. But none offered contentment, none brought me to unquestioning faith. I felt guilt; I was uncomfortable around "believers;" I didn't fit in. All my life people told me I needed to join up - to "get right with the lord" or "find inner peace," study eastern religions, or check out Judaism, talk to the Agnostics, the Hare Krishnas, the Unitarians..... each wanted or was accepting of new "disciples," - but I was beyond seeking acceptance. I wanted to KNOW. I even read a great deal about Native American spirituality and the beliefs of primitive cultures. Someone, somewhere had The definitive answer - the one, true way that would make perfect logical, personal and spiritual sense... or did they? And if there were so many all thinking they were right, how could any of them be The Answer?
There is much pressure upon all of us to choose - either to believe in something - some definition of God or religious pathway - or even to decide not to believe and label one's self an Atheist. I remember once saying to a particularly annoying co-worker and proselytizer that "one could not make one's self believe in anything; one either believed or one did not, and I could not just decide to believe." The fact that members of a given ideology feel the need for others to agree with their way of thinking only serves to demonstrate their own insecurity. They have doubt. Humans are compelled to seek security in like-mindedness, and of course, we understand the astute wisdom of strength in numbers.
Several years ago, perhaps even on a Sunday morning, as I stood way up on the hill (the highest point of my acreage) thinking about church and God and the nature of things; feeling the sun on my face and the light breeze, the thought just floated into my mind that I didn't need to decide anything. I don't mean this as a rebellious thing: "I don't have to.... whatever..!!" What I mean is that I realized that I was perfectly comfortable not knowing, not deciding, not choosing and not explaining my beliefs or lack thereof. And what would it change if I decided to "be" a Baptist, a Jehovah's Witness, a Hindu or even a German Chocolate? Nothing; whatever was to be would be. Nothing in the universe would change except I would be expected to behave in a certain way, follow certain arbitrary commands and tenets and worry about a lot of semiotic choices. The finer points, the little details of the various religions only interest me in a scholarly and/or theoretical way. It's the big question that remains. And since my big question may not be the same as others', I won't even put it into words.
Once in a while, and often on holidays, I attend church, surprising as that may seem. The particular church is one of those modern mega-churches, very different from the small churches of my childhood. Three services every Sunday to accommodate over 1,500 worshippers. I go there because I can be safely anonymous - no being singled out, no follow-up phone calls, no pressure to become "one of them." It is perhaps that very human need of belonging that compels me at times to act out the old ritual: getting up early, dressing up, (yep, heels and stockings and a dress) and going up the road to church. I go to listen to the choir, to daydream about my life and existence and to reminisce, though I seek something I never really had. But I like watching the people, how they dress and behave - how demonstrative they are here compared to the quietly dignified congregations I knew. I like listening to the sometimes outrageous sermons and remembering my fathers fiery oratory. And I can now be at peace with believers, as well as doubters and non-believers - though their views may differ greatly from my own - because I am at peace with this life.
* Beg pardon, I have to include this: Several years ago, I worked in a furniture factory here in the south. In the "Art" room, some of my irreverent comments on fundamentalism and non-conformist views on religion were common knowledge. One day while humming/singing Jesus Loves Me rather subconsiously as I worked, Miss Peggy, a very conservative Southern Baptist suddenly called out: "Patrice! Patrice!" in a very loud voice to get my attention. (I was the supervising artist and if something was wrong, twas my job to fix it.) I stopped singing, and walked over to her. I said "What is it?" and she said dryly: "Jesus loves me.... Jesus likes you."
You know.... that's good enough for me....
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| Fear, faith and conscience.... #1, Part 4. |
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