12.24.04

It�s the Holiday Season. I�ve been thinking a lot lately about what this means to me and how I want to celebrate it this year. I�ve been thinking about this baby that I�m about to have and how we are becoming a real honest-to-goodness family in a few months.

And then I read a great post from Eliza that made me think about my own situation and how I feel personally about this life and spirituality thing.

Now, usually I stay as far away from this subject on my site as possible. I do this for a number of reasons. One is because I hate the negative controversy that �religious� talk can bring. Another is because my faith is mine, it is a part of who I am, and I would like to think that it is there in my writing in one form or another regardless of how I spell it out. I'm not here to push it on anyone else. Or explain it. And lastly, I HATE stereotypes. You say one word about adhering to any major world faith today, and people instantly draw all sorts of conclusions about you that are usually false. I don�t like to be pigeonholed.

But for the sake of today�s discussion, I will say that I was raised in a family that is very devout in our chosen religion. I won�t go into what religion that is (see previous paragraph), but suffice it to say that it was somewhat strict. In recent years, my personal faith has evolved from that strict black-and-white view that I had when I was younger to something I can only define as �fluid.� It is an ever-changing, ever-evolving thing. I like it, even though on some levels, it makes things a little more complicated and a lot less secure than when everything seemed so much more written in stone. But it is a process that has taken my �religion� and made it my own personal �faith,� with a heavy emphasis on the �my� part.

It has forced me to ask questions about why I believe a certain way, why others in my family believe a certain way, and whether I really agree with it all. I have taken my indoctrinated belief system and completely broken it down, taken it apart, and examined the pieces and how they fit. I have discarded a few things here and there; reshaped others. I have asked myself if I wanted to take the whole thing and just throw it away. I have asked myself if I really believe that there is a God. I have looked honestly at all of the contradictions, and presumptions and logical arguments both for and against.

At first I felt guilty for all of this. It really is unfortunate that guilt seems to come standard with almost all forms of organized (or semi-organized, whatever) religion. It has it�s place, perhaps, in small doses for motivation factors, but somewhere along the way, we decided that if a little of it were good, then a whole heaping of it must be much better. (I now see this overwhelming guilt as a hindrance more than anything else, but funny how that guilt stays with you regardless.) I felt guilty trying to imagine what my extremely devout father (who I respect more than anyone else in life) would say if he knew I was even asking these questions. Because in his mind, you shouldn�t have to ask. You should just already know. And I felt guilty that I was moving away from a place where I had felt so secure for such a long time.

But then during this whole questioning process I started to feel that there were a few of the bits and pieces of this former belief system that spoke to my heart. And I started to rebuild. And I began to allow myself to believe that it really is okay if my beliefs are a personal interpretation of the black-and-white stories I heard every Sunday in my youth. The core of what I was taught there read like truth to me--that I was working the specifics out on my own seemed to work for me.

And, amazingly enough, something else happened. I began to find a whole new amount of room in my heart for the beliefs of others. I didn�t always agree with everything they did, but I could suddenly understand a bit where they were coming from and see the good in it. I could see parallels, I could see ties. I began to be interested in learning about other faiths without in any way feeling threatened in mine. I could even take attacks on what I believed and not instantly react in indignance and defensiveness. I became secure in my beliefs because, well, they were mine, and not necessarily what I had been told to believe. And if you can believe it--they were sometimes even open to discussion.

I go to church every Sunday. I enjoy it, I find value in it, and can see how this will be a good thing for my family. I like being a part of a community that, for the most part, is trying to help one another become better people and comes together in praise and worship. But I am able to see things as they really are: a group of imperfect people just trying to figure things out the best they can. I don�t expect their personal interpretations to validate my own. Of course there are many there who feel that they are in the absolute right, all of the time. As sad as I find that, it doesn�t bother me or affect my personal views anymore. And every now and then, something will be said that may not sit quite right with me. But that�s okay too.

Because in my heart, I have learned that this �faith� thing is much more about just me than I ever imagined. It is about me and my God and really, that is about where my jurisdiction (and yours, or anyone else�s) ends. I love to share my beliefs with those who are genuinely interested, but I�m not offended or angry if they disagree. We are all on our own paths. None of us has ALL of the answers. We may have just found the place that answers a little bit more of them for us. And the best part about this journey that I have been on is that it has taught me how I can find a few of those answers out for myself.

I hope that I can teach this to my son. Of course, deep down I want him to share my beliefs as well. But I want him to be able to say that he believes what he does because he discovered them to be true on his own, and not just because it was forced upon him when he was little. I don�t want him to live the way he does out of guilt, but out of a genuine desire to be a decent person.

All I know is that there is one thing that every single human being here on earth has in common. We all have, deep down inside, a piece of us that is never quite full; whether we are happy with our lives or unhappy. A little ache, a touch of loneliness, a desire to reach out and find�something. A feeling that something is missing. You may have your own interpretation of what that something is. I believe that it is a bit of longing for that which is greater than us. It seems that we are incapable as a race to ever be completely happy. We always seem to want a little bit more. Something in my heart tells me that this is an acknowledgement of God, whether we consciously accept that or not.

But I recognize that this is part of my answer and that you have to find your own. And if it is different than mine (which it very probably will be), I have no problem with that.

Sorry if this all comes off really preachy, or touchy-feely, or whatever. But this journey (are we in the middle of a "Bachelor" episode now? Sorry.) has been an amazing and scary experience for me. It is so hard to put into words. And the truth is, I�m still very much in the middle of it all still.

That�s what I�m thinking about this Christmas. I am reading the stories, and attending the services, and all I know is that even though I may not have all the answers (but certainly have enough questions) I want it to be true. There is something that always keeps me coming back. Am I part of a world-wide self-delusion? Am I fooling myself? I guess those are questions that no one can answer either way with any kind of concrete proof. But I know that I am at peace.

For the moment, that is enough.

So this year for the holidays, I wish you peace and warmth and joy. I wish you contentment in your own experience.

Whatever you may believe, this life thing is pretty amazing, isn't it?

before ~ after