I really hate this phrase. I heard it twice today, and it made me cringe with memories of the admonishment to "pretend I know things that I don't know." Today's context was to let go of my definitions of faith and allow myself to take part in the rituals and beliefs of others, even if I don't personally agree with their views. I think this is a mistake. Taking a passive approach and quietly accepting the views imposed without contradiction and without resistance is not something I can do. I don't go to church anymore for a specific reason. I decided that I could no longer support their views and passively sit through their services as if I was a believing member of their church. My physical presence there led others to believe I was one of them, that I believed what they believed and that I could be counted among them. I chose to remove myself when I stopped believing their version of religious belief.
Some people chose to stay in, and be that "secret unbeliever". They actively choose keep feeding the religion, keeping their families happy, keeping the expectations up, attending their classes, doing the work. They are pretending. They are putting the happiness of others ahead of their own. They are catching moments of happiness here and there: a baptism, a wedding in the temple, watching loved ones accepting calls to perform missionary work. And they stay in because leaving would cause so much pain, and so much division in their families. They stay, even though they don't believe. And for some, when they seek counseling from the "clergy" (lay people with no actual credentials in ministry or counseling), they are told, in essence, "Fake It". Actually, what they say is, "Read. Ponder. Study Scripture. Pray". This is a -nothing- answer. And what they are subtly teaching you is to ignore your feelings and glom onto the feelings of others. Let their happiness be your guide. And don't, under any circumstances, share your doubts and your unbelief with any of them.
I've stayed out of that church and away from that religious system in order to be true to myself. One of the things I have consistently liked about my current church home is the recitation of a mantra: May our reason and our passion lead us to be true to ourselves, true to each other, and true to what we can, together, become. I've always liked this statement. Today I had this statement challenged with what, I feel, is a contradiction. "Fake it till you make it". Sorry. I can't pretend that I know what others believe they know. I did this for many years growing up, hoping for some sign, some personal revelation that what I professed to "know" in my religious life would actually be revealed to me as true, and not just an exercise in faith. That word, "faith", has come to mean the belief in things we are taught from a young age and that we hold on to no matter what contrary evidence reveals itself later in our lives. Our social standing in the church was measured by the strength of our testimony of faith in the teachings of that religion, which we took turns professing to one another on the first Sunday of every month. We were really very proud of ourselves for our faith, for our understanding of the structure of the One True Church, and for our belief that we were a "peculiar people" hand selected in the Latter-Days to receive the secret gnosis withheld from the common Christians, whom we sought to convert to "our" brand of Jesus gospel and restored "true" church of Christ. How arrogant.
I refuse to go back to this "Fake It" style, and yet.....
I have a spiritual struggle. I have tried to live as an atheist, even a militant atheist that willingly ridiculed the very idea of religion altogether. I have spent many months attacking religious beliefs as harmful to society, and indeed, many of them are dangerous. And yet.....
I have a desire for a spiritual practice, one that speaks to me and one that I can participate in fully with a group of people who "get it". I have found a comfort zone within the Unitarian Universalist Church where I can exercise this muscle and get the nourishment that I need, in some respects. As a matter of personal principle, I have refused to sing or say the word "amen" during any church gathering. Everyone knows this about me and accepts this choice, with no pressure and no guilt or shame against me for declining to participate. I don't stand about with my arms crossed and frown, but I do have one line I won't cross willingly, and thankfully, I am under no requirement to do so. There are no rights of passage that I will miss for my failure to believe. I won't miss baptisms, christenings, weddings or other gatherings because of my refusal to conform to a belief. This brings me great comfort. I feel like I can participate in this community.
Today's remarks from the pulpit made me feel uneasy, and a bit ashamed for being that person who sometimes points out the absurdity of religious beliefs. I felt that I was being pressured to let go of my unbelief and my resistance and let down my crossed arms and participate in the rituals once I learn to let go of the definitions surrounding "faith". It put the problem back in my lap, and made me be the one to have to resolve it and get around it to "get along" with the rest of society. I just don't think I can do it. I don't think I should have to do this. I would rather just not be there in the first place, let them have their rituals, let them believe their wishes are heard by some old Father figure in the above that listens and cares. I have enough life experience to know that if there were some such figure to pray to, he or she does not listen and does not step in to stop horrible things from happening. And because they don't, they are not worth praying to in the first place.
Pretending that you also believe in the same things your neighbors and friends believe just to not make waves and not start conflicts is not being true to yourself, in my opinion. And even if it made me feel good for the short time I was with them, it would eventually come back to me as a time I was actually "fake". Worse, it would be stacked among all the other times I was "fake" and used to convince me that I must have truly believed at some point, and then I have been a liar ever since the day I stopped believing. That is the fight I have today with those who knew me then, those who still see me as one who 'secretly believes' but has been persuaded by some evil force and has been led astray temporarily. See, they remember that I can "fake it". And they would rather have that version of me back in their lives than what they have now: A person who is living true to themselves and who has ceased remaining quiet in the corner, passively accepting and helping others maintain the status quo. That's who they miss and who they want.
I'm not going back. It causes a lot of grief and heartache but I won't go back. It's like being asked to live in a box the rest of my life and I just can't do it. Being true to oneself often comes at the expense of others, but it has to happen eventually or you live your life splintered, always working to please someone else, Mental illness springs from this fountain, and I've seen it happen far too often to ever want to go down that road.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Saturday, February 14, 2015
"Faith"
Faith is a tricky word for me. Growing up as a Christian and as a Mormon, I connected the word "faith" with the understanding of being saved from Hell for my willingness to worship the right Deity, and for my loyalty to a particular viewpoint on how to do it. Straying from those teachings and doing things my own way was discouraged, even though the prescribed path was laid out by a human who was hearing God's voice and telling all of the rest of us what we were to do in order to be saved.
I had as much faith as anyone else I knew, which is to say that I went about my life professing to know things that I could not possibly know. I was taught to consider my feelings as an indicator of what I was experiencing, and to equate good feelings with truth, and bad feelings with sin. In this way, I started to divide my mind into separate compartments. One was for logic and reason, and one was for faith and testimony of things that I hoped were true, but that I could never prove beyond doubt. I struggled with doubt for many years, seeking guidance from the counselors of the religion that I was in, and seeking the assurance and the "knowing" that so many around me had gained.
One fateful day, the leader of the local congregation of Mormons asked if I would give a 20 minute talk during the Sunday service. He asked if I would talk about the ways in which one could maintain a testimony of the truthfulness in the Mormon church as a restored gospel of Jesus Christ in the Latter-Days. I worked very hard on that sermon, and what I came up with was a list of ways to ignore, avoid, and otherwise shelve the mountain of problems and inconsistencies that the religion had not addressed for it's 20th century adherents. I cautioned them to not read any information that might contradict their beliefs and taught them to use their feelings as a barometer when they were presented with contrary information.
This was in the very beginning days of the Internet, before Facebook, and before the widespread availability of information that was only previously found by accepting books from strangers as they marched in protest in front of the Mormon temples. It was really hard not to feel smug in those days, even feeling sorry for those who wouldn't be a part of our wonderful church and our wonderful religion. We felt chosen and special, and deep down we had a belief that they would perish in Hell while we would be saved in Heaven, but no one ever acted upon that belief like they really believed it. If I knew a person, and they professed to be my friend, all the while believing that I was doomed to punishment in Hell because I did not believe in their God, I would think very poorly of that person for not trying to save me from it every waking moment of their day. Such should be their "faith" in action. If they really believe it at all, instead of just pretending to know something they can't possibly know.
After I left Mormonism, I studied Pagan teachings and Earth-centered spirituality. I knew that I really felt the most at peace when I was near flowing water, and where green things grew. I wanted that kind of spiritual connection, because I was still using my feelings as a barometer of truth. Over the years I have realized the folly of this connection, because many times I have learned the truth about something I had previously thought I knew and it most definitely did not make me feel good. I had to get over that idea or be forever left behind in a world of fantasy and ignorance.
I have struggled lately with this word, "faith", because I connect it to being willfully ignorant. I have had many debates with family and friends who still use this word, even in the face of factual evidence they still choose to believe the stories and the timelines of their religion because they have "faith". Somehow they think that their "faith" is on equal standing with my knowledge. Or conversely, that my knowledge is somehow substandard to their "faith" because I came to my knowledge through other people's opinions and they have their faith as a gift from God.
Can Pagans have "faith"? I believe that they do use faith when knowing is not possible, not instead of knowing for certain. If one could know the truth, wouldn't they naturally prefer that? Would they give up their "faith" as a placeholder if real knowledge could be put in its place? I have come to see "God" as a placeholder for the unexplained in our universe. When things have an explanation, rooted in science and objective reasoning, then "God" gets smaller. It occupies less space in the mind. But totally eradicating "faith" from my psyche means having to explain every mystery, and some things just can't be explained yet. I can make up my own fantasy about how things might be in an afterlife, but until I get there, I can't possibly know. Therefore, it is wrong for me to tell anyone that I know what will happen after I die. I can only tell what I hope might happen.
As a Unitarian Universalist and as a Pagan, I have met others for whom the word "faith" has some bad history and memories attached. I'm still using my feelings as a barometer, and judging people with "faith" as people who are willfully ignorant, or who are just faking it because it makes them feel better about their current situations. I look back on my two years of involvement and evolution as a member of a church and as a leader in the Pagan community holding Sabbat celebrations and teaching Paganism 101 classes and I realize that I haven't had much positive thought about "faith", but I know that several members still have faith, they still speak freely about their faith. And it makes them feel better. It helps them cope with their lives. It gives them something to hope for in the future.
And what do I have, while I am on the free and responsible search for truth? Disdain and ridicule for those who still have faith that things will be brighter, that there is still hope for the human race. Maybe we are capable of receiving messages and inspirations from ancestors, guardians, spirit guides, Gods and Goddesses, Anunnaki , the Ascended Masters, Maybe it would be good for me to explore these options and try to exercise a bit of "faith" again. What could be the worst thing that would happen? Someone like me can come along and ridicule me for exercising hope for things which are not seen, and that would make them a jerk.
I had as much faith as anyone else I knew, which is to say that I went about my life professing to know things that I could not possibly know. I was taught to consider my feelings as an indicator of what I was experiencing, and to equate good feelings with truth, and bad feelings with sin. In this way, I started to divide my mind into separate compartments. One was for logic and reason, and one was for faith and testimony of things that I hoped were true, but that I could never prove beyond doubt. I struggled with doubt for many years, seeking guidance from the counselors of the religion that I was in, and seeking the assurance and the "knowing" that so many around me had gained.
One fateful day, the leader of the local congregation of Mormons asked if I would give a 20 minute talk during the Sunday service. He asked if I would talk about the ways in which one could maintain a testimony of the truthfulness in the Mormon church as a restored gospel of Jesus Christ in the Latter-Days. I worked very hard on that sermon, and what I came up with was a list of ways to ignore, avoid, and otherwise shelve the mountain of problems and inconsistencies that the religion had not addressed for it's 20th century adherents. I cautioned them to not read any information that might contradict their beliefs and taught them to use their feelings as a barometer when they were presented with contrary information.
This was in the very beginning days of the Internet, before Facebook, and before the widespread availability of information that was only previously found by accepting books from strangers as they marched in protest in front of the Mormon temples. It was really hard not to feel smug in those days, even feeling sorry for those who wouldn't be a part of our wonderful church and our wonderful religion. We felt chosen and special, and deep down we had a belief that they would perish in Hell while we would be saved in Heaven, but no one ever acted upon that belief like they really believed it. If I knew a person, and they professed to be my friend, all the while believing that I was doomed to punishment in Hell because I did not believe in their God, I would think very poorly of that person for not trying to save me from it every waking moment of their day. Such should be their "faith" in action. If they really believe it at all, instead of just pretending to know something they can't possibly know.
After I left Mormonism, I studied Pagan teachings and Earth-centered spirituality. I knew that I really felt the most at peace when I was near flowing water, and where green things grew. I wanted that kind of spiritual connection, because I was still using my feelings as a barometer of truth. Over the years I have realized the folly of this connection, because many times I have learned the truth about something I had previously thought I knew and it most definitely did not make me feel good. I had to get over that idea or be forever left behind in a world of fantasy and ignorance.
I have struggled lately with this word, "faith", because I connect it to being willfully ignorant. I have had many debates with family and friends who still use this word, even in the face of factual evidence they still choose to believe the stories and the timelines of their religion because they have "faith". Somehow they think that their "faith" is on equal standing with my knowledge. Or conversely, that my knowledge is somehow substandard to their "faith" because I came to my knowledge through other people's opinions and they have their faith as a gift from God.
Can Pagans have "faith"? I believe that they do use faith when knowing is not possible, not instead of knowing for certain. If one could know the truth, wouldn't they naturally prefer that? Would they give up their "faith" as a placeholder if real knowledge could be put in its place? I have come to see "God" as a placeholder for the unexplained in our universe. When things have an explanation, rooted in science and objective reasoning, then "God" gets smaller. It occupies less space in the mind. But totally eradicating "faith" from my psyche means having to explain every mystery, and some things just can't be explained yet. I can make up my own fantasy about how things might be in an afterlife, but until I get there, I can't possibly know. Therefore, it is wrong for me to tell anyone that I know what will happen after I die. I can only tell what I hope might happen.
As a Unitarian Universalist and as a Pagan, I have met others for whom the word "faith" has some bad history and memories attached. I'm still using my feelings as a barometer, and judging people with "faith" as people who are willfully ignorant, or who are just faking it because it makes them feel better about their current situations. I look back on my two years of involvement and evolution as a member of a church and as a leader in the Pagan community holding Sabbat celebrations and teaching Paganism 101 classes and I realize that I haven't had much positive thought about "faith", but I know that several members still have faith, they still speak freely about their faith. And it makes them feel better. It helps them cope with their lives. It gives them something to hope for in the future.
And what do I have, while I am on the free and responsible search for truth? Disdain and ridicule for those who still have faith that things will be brighter, that there is still hope for the human race. Maybe we are capable of receiving messages and inspirations from ancestors, guardians, spirit guides, Gods and Goddesses, Anunnaki , the Ascended Masters, Maybe it would be good for me to explore these options and try to exercise a bit of "faith" again. What could be the worst thing that would happen? Someone like me can come along and ridicule me for exercising hope for things which are not seen, and that would make them a jerk.
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