Hello God, it's Me...But I'm Not Margaret
Okay, it seems a little religion heavy, but for some reason I’m being inundated with religions conversations – left, right and center. But as always, it proves fruitful…at least when I talk about it (debate may be a more accurate term; arguing is even more precise), I have opportunity to refine my thoughts. It’s not like this gal couldn’t use a little more ladylike refining….
Tradition is lovely. It gives place in the world. It does an amazing job of giving us context and location – in time, in space, in culture. But occasionally it requires a smidgen of examination. Well, it does if it’s religions tradition.
There is nothing like the sweet escape from the maddness of parentally imposed religion – yeah, I know that it’s part of the individuation process, and it’s supposedly part of psychological progression, but seriously, admit it, it’s nice to challenge the old rents’ matrix.
Mitigating circumstances aside, I'd have to say that probably the distaste for man made religion in the first place is that obedience (uncompromising attachment) to some arbitrary rules and regulations seemed completely illogical. All rationality aside, I always thought spirituality was supposed to *feel* right or good. What I was brought up with didn't feel right, and it still doesn't feel right, so I don't want to do it. I wanna feel good about the unknown mystical outter whatever and I'm still a huntin' for what feels good. If I never find it, I don't know that it matters, as long as I don't stagnate and give up the pursuit.
I remember the moment I told my father I didn't believe in his church, and I remember how much it hurt him. I also remember him telling me to never say that in front of my mother because it would kill her. I suspect he was and still is right about this. Pops and I had a conversation a few years back in which he asked me if I believed in God.
I told him I was still sussing out the notion of God, although if there was one I figured he'd have a few different qualities than what I'd be taught. What caught me by surprise - and he's never admitted it since - was that there were aspects of his religion he didn't quite believe in, but that he had to *really* take on faith in order to accept the whole - and he did mention some doctrinal aspects that are lynch pins to his religion. I took comfort from the thought that even my father (such a monumental figure) had doubts about his belief system.
Last Sunday, we had another little chat. Aside from a revelation (ahem, couldn't help it) from him about a few serious moments (months) of doubt about the existence of God (from a man who is incredibly active and devout in his faith) - which did shock me, by the way - he brought the conversation around to the need for a firm belief.
I think to what I wrote a few days ago about the need for explanation. It seems a more concrete idea to me, a more concrete need in all aspects of our lives.
Tradition is lovely. It gives place in the world. It does an amazing job of giving us context and location – in time, in space, in culture. But occasionally it requires a smidgen of examination. Well, it does if it’s religions tradition.
There is nothing like the sweet escape from the maddness of parentally imposed religion – yeah, I know that it’s part of the individuation process, and it’s supposedly part of psychological progression, but seriously, admit it, it’s nice to challenge the old rents’ matrix.
Mitigating circumstances aside, I'd have to say that probably the distaste for man made religion in the first place is that obedience (uncompromising attachment) to some arbitrary rules and regulations seemed completely illogical. All rationality aside, I always thought spirituality was supposed to *feel* right or good. What I was brought up with didn't feel right, and it still doesn't feel right, so I don't want to do it. I wanna feel good about the unknown mystical outter whatever and I'm still a huntin' for what feels good. If I never find it, I don't know that it matters, as long as I don't stagnate and give up the pursuit.
I remember the moment I told my father I didn't believe in his church, and I remember how much it hurt him. I also remember him telling me to never say that in front of my mother because it would kill her. I suspect he was and still is right about this. Pops and I had a conversation a few years back in which he asked me if I believed in God.
I told him I was still sussing out the notion of God, although if there was one I figured he'd have a few different qualities than what I'd be taught. What caught me by surprise - and he's never admitted it since - was that there were aspects of his religion he didn't quite believe in, but that he had to *really* take on faith in order to accept the whole - and he did mention some doctrinal aspects that are lynch pins to his religion. I took comfort from the thought that even my father (such a monumental figure) had doubts about his belief system.
Last Sunday, we had another little chat. Aside from a revelation (ahem, couldn't help it) from him about a few serious moments (months) of doubt about the existence of God (from a man who is incredibly active and devout in his faith) - which did shock me, by the way - he brought the conversation around to the need for a firm belief.
I think to what I wrote a few days ago about the need for explanation. It seems a more concrete idea to me, a more concrete need in all aspects of our lives.
posted by annaghela at 10:08 AM
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