This morning, I was invited to sit on a panel with a handful of my fellow seminarians as part of a introductory workshop for prospective seminary students. But the panel didn’t start with me on it. I was originally invited to the event to perform one of my poems as an example of how artistic gifts can be used in both ministerial and worship settings. However, 15 minutes into the audience’s questions about why each panel member chose to attend seminary, it turns out that, one of the four original panel members had to leave early to attend another engagement. Within minutes, the moderator of the event asked me to join the panel. I complied.
The panel and I answered questions about how we balance our seminary workload with our personal life, how our families have responded to our decision to pursue advanced degrees in theology, how we incorporated our undergraduate studies with our advanced studies in unrelated fields, and how seminary has challenged us to expand our understanding of ourselves and the world.
During the panel session, one of the panelists- a female minister in the United Church of Christ- mentioned that the issues we wrestle with in seminary are really equipping us to better minister to those in our communities who struggle with their own concerns and questions. In short, we study so we can better serve others. For some reason, her words struck me like a sledge hammer. They reminded me that I am not the only person trying to make sense of these enduring questions of existence.
How could I have lost sight of this? How could I have forgotten one of my most treasured convictions: that we humans should help and serve one another? While not negating the important role that personal development, self-examination and enjoyment play in our lives, I do believe a commitment to help others is a crucial aspect of a fulfilling and meaningful existence. Therefore, I cannot become too insular in my focus. It is in serving others that we remain grounded in the realities of life. Many of the people who we will serve and serve alongside will not care anything about hermeneutics, historical criticism, Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, or Hegelian philosophy. Most of them will just want us to offer them our compassionate presence (and if they really want to flatter us, they might even ask us to share some thoughtful words).
The female panelist's words also reminded me that even though I have grown disenchanted with the traditional Christianized and clerical connotations of the over-used term “ministry,” I cannot forget that “ministry” is only a religious word that means “service.” Anybody can serve. You don’t have to be ordained, educated or “anointed” by a Supreme Being to serve. You only need to have an awareness of the needs and feelings of others. I hope that keeping this in mind will help to nuance the focus of my scholarship and the questions in my soul.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Breadcrumbs
Like the age-old bedtime story of Hansel and Gretel, I set out from home to explore and find a new way of understanding the world around me with the full intention of returning back to where I started with new insight. But I have since lost track of (and lost trust in) those “breadcrumbs” that originally marked my path. In other words, I am far from where I started. Comparing my earlier convictions to my views now, I probably wouldn’t recognize myself and would likely have opposed the person I've become.
Realizing this, I have no doubt that my friends and loved ones would mourn if I actually engaged in an honest and transparent theological and philosophical discussion with them, showing them that- in many ways- I am no longer the same person they once knew. I still retain a fear that such unbridled honesty would wreak havoc on those relationships; so, instead of giving full disclosure to them, I triangulate my deepest thoughts here on this blog- before a crowd that I cannot see; before an audience that may never respond. Writing here helps my sanity by giving me a safe-space to clarify my thoughts, but it also widens the distance between myself and those who are closest to me; those with whom I am afraid to share these thoughts.
They would likely mourn my departure from being a confident and apologetic believer and weep at my development into the hopeful, open-minded, skeptical and somewhat cynical man I am now. If they only knew how far I have come, I imagine my friends and family members would be concerned for my spiritual health and would want to know how I arrived at this stage of my journey.
As a matter of fact, I recall one friend’s inquiry when I shared with him one of my seminary essays that partially explained my view of the Bible’s authority in light of the latest scientific, historical and archeological evidence. He asked me, “So exactly when did you start to question the Bible’s authority and inerrancy?” I gave an answer about how, in my pre-seminary days, I began to find it increasingly difficult to reconcile the Bible's creation stories with modern scientific theories. I also told him how I noticed many passages in the New Testament contained conflicting understandings of Jesus' identity, essence and message. I answered quickly, but when I took time to reflect on the conversation, I realized that my start on this path had a variety of causes.
Many factors contributed to the adventure I have chosen for myself, including my life experiences, my personality, my art, my family, my schools, my friendships, my jobs, my relationships with others, my interests, my fears, my hopes, my influences, and my mistakes all played their parts in this epic of my life. Knowing this, I believe that even if someone else could read what I’ve read, experience what I’ve experienced, and walk where I’ve walked, they would probably come out with a different adventure- perhaps even a contrasting path to my own.
I imagine my friends and family would ask me what motivated me to stay on this course and what did I find on this path that disenchanted me from my former way of living? What kind of “breadcrumbs” could I leave to escort them from my former line of thinking to my current one?
To be honest, I wouldn’t know where to start at explaining my journey thus far. I wouldn't recommend it for everyone- I would only suggest it for those who invite such experiences. It has been a rapidly moving process and I have arrived here after long hours and dark nights of mental and psychological struggle. But I do know that once I opened myself up to raising critical questions about my former beliefs, the doubt and skepticism began to pour forth unremittingly (I recall that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had a similar experience when he began his religious studies in college). While this path is difficult, I still feel a sense of purpose. I have hope that something life-giving will emerge from this time of exploration and restructuring.
I originally began this task in order to discover what was really “essential” to the Christian faith. I wanted to use the machete of rational inquiry to clear the foliage of superstition from my world view in order to expose the hard truths about reality that I felt were so necessary to my understanding of the universe and my place in it. I believed that truth should be able to withstand rational inquiry. I thought that if the Christian religion was worth anything, its claims should be able to hold their own in dialogue with life's harshest realities and most daunting complexities.
At the time, some things I was taught as being crucial to the Christian faith didn’t sit well with me (not saying wisdom has to sit well in order to be true) and I wanted to pursue my suspicions and see if I had a case worth investigating. I had always been interested in the perspectives of other cultures, I had always felt I could learn from anyone, and I had also noticed that science and religion seemed to tell different stories about the world around us and within us. So I entered seminary to explore those aspects of my faith and the way religion has been understood and lived throughout history.
Years ago, I used to have some of the questions I am now pursuing in seminary, but once I became active in church life I began to stifle, suppress and protect myself from those questions and any triggers that would evoke suspicion towards my trusted authorities. If life presented a complexity beyond my understanding, I would default to my faith and my commitment to the idea of the Bible being an absolute authority for any and all questions.
But I didn’t like what I was becoming. I felt I was becoming close-minded, unloving and rigidly dogmatic. I felt trapped in a dualistic view of the world that simplified life into categories of "us" and "them," good and evil, "saved" and damned. I also felt that the Christianity I was being taught was too insular and otherworldly in its focus, too convinced of its claims, and too reactive in its involvement with the non-Christian world. I felt like this form of Christianity was ignoring a worthwhile world that existed outside of its stained-glass windows.
I wanted to know more about the interconnected world out there full of broken people, good intentions, corruption, common ground, mystery, exploitation, horrific cruelty, ecstasy, tragedy, humility, destruction, and profound wisdom. I knew there was an entire universe of experience waiting to be met with awe, wonder, compassion, service, grace and honesty.
This yearning to connect with ultimate reality continues to drive my scholarship. I am still committed to the pursuit of truth and understanding with the conviction that I must endure this stage of destruction in order to arrive at a place where I can function with the freedom to serve and live fully on the Earth.
May these words serve as the “breadcrumbs” for those who come looking for who I really am. May they also feed, if only for a moment, those continuing on the path to discovering who they really are.
Realizing this, I have no doubt that my friends and loved ones would mourn if I actually engaged in an honest and transparent theological and philosophical discussion with them, showing them that- in many ways- I am no longer the same person they once knew. I still retain a fear that such unbridled honesty would wreak havoc on those relationships; so, instead of giving full disclosure to them, I triangulate my deepest thoughts here on this blog- before a crowd that I cannot see; before an audience that may never respond. Writing here helps my sanity by giving me a safe-space to clarify my thoughts, but it also widens the distance between myself and those who are closest to me; those with whom I am afraid to share these thoughts.
They would likely mourn my departure from being a confident and apologetic believer and weep at my development into the hopeful, open-minded, skeptical and somewhat cynical man I am now. If they only knew how far I have come, I imagine my friends and family members would be concerned for my spiritual health and would want to know how I arrived at this stage of my journey.
As a matter of fact, I recall one friend’s inquiry when I shared with him one of my seminary essays that partially explained my view of the Bible’s authority in light of the latest scientific, historical and archeological evidence. He asked me, “So exactly when did you start to question the Bible’s authority and inerrancy?” I gave an answer about how, in my pre-seminary days, I began to find it increasingly difficult to reconcile the Bible's creation stories with modern scientific theories. I also told him how I noticed many passages in the New Testament contained conflicting understandings of Jesus' identity, essence and message. I answered quickly, but when I took time to reflect on the conversation, I realized that my start on this path had a variety of causes.
Many factors contributed to the adventure I have chosen for myself, including my life experiences, my personality, my art, my family, my schools, my friendships, my jobs, my relationships with others, my interests, my fears, my hopes, my influences, and my mistakes all played their parts in this epic of my life. Knowing this, I believe that even if someone else could read what I’ve read, experience what I’ve experienced, and walk where I’ve walked, they would probably come out with a different adventure- perhaps even a contrasting path to my own.
I imagine my friends and family would ask me what motivated me to stay on this course and what did I find on this path that disenchanted me from my former way of living? What kind of “breadcrumbs” could I leave to escort them from my former line of thinking to my current one?
To be honest, I wouldn’t know where to start at explaining my journey thus far. I wouldn't recommend it for everyone- I would only suggest it for those who invite such experiences. It has been a rapidly moving process and I have arrived here after long hours and dark nights of mental and psychological struggle. But I do know that once I opened myself up to raising critical questions about my former beliefs, the doubt and skepticism began to pour forth unremittingly (I recall that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had a similar experience when he began his religious studies in college). While this path is difficult, I still feel a sense of purpose. I have hope that something life-giving will emerge from this time of exploration and restructuring.
I originally began this task in order to discover what was really “essential” to the Christian faith. I wanted to use the machete of rational inquiry to clear the foliage of superstition from my world view in order to expose the hard truths about reality that I felt were so necessary to my understanding of the universe and my place in it. I believed that truth should be able to withstand rational inquiry. I thought that if the Christian religion was worth anything, its claims should be able to hold their own in dialogue with life's harshest realities and most daunting complexities.
At the time, some things I was taught as being crucial to the Christian faith didn’t sit well with me (not saying wisdom has to sit well in order to be true) and I wanted to pursue my suspicions and see if I had a case worth investigating. I had always been interested in the perspectives of other cultures, I had always felt I could learn from anyone, and I had also noticed that science and religion seemed to tell different stories about the world around us and within us. So I entered seminary to explore those aspects of my faith and the way religion has been understood and lived throughout history.
Years ago, I used to have some of the questions I am now pursuing in seminary, but once I became active in church life I began to stifle, suppress and protect myself from those questions and any triggers that would evoke suspicion towards my trusted authorities. If life presented a complexity beyond my understanding, I would default to my faith and my commitment to the idea of the Bible being an absolute authority for any and all questions.
But I didn’t like what I was becoming. I felt I was becoming close-minded, unloving and rigidly dogmatic. I felt trapped in a dualistic view of the world that simplified life into categories of "us" and "them," good and evil, "saved" and damned. I also felt that the Christianity I was being taught was too insular and otherworldly in its focus, too convinced of its claims, and too reactive in its involvement with the non-Christian world. I felt like this form of Christianity was ignoring a worthwhile world that existed outside of its stained-glass windows.
I wanted to know more about the interconnected world out there full of broken people, good intentions, corruption, common ground, mystery, exploitation, horrific cruelty, ecstasy, tragedy, humility, destruction, and profound wisdom. I knew there was an entire universe of experience waiting to be met with awe, wonder, compassion, service, grace and honesty.
This yearning to connect with ultimate reality continues to drive my scholarship. I am still committed to the pursuit of truth and understanding with the conviction that I must endure this stage of destruction in order to arrive at a place where I can function with the freedom to serve and live fully on the Earth.
May these words serve as the “breadcrumbs” for those who come looking for who I really am. May they also feed, if only for a moment, those continuing on the path to discovering who they really are.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Where My Search Leaves Me...
I am torn between my integrity and my commitment to my church. What do you do when you no longer convinced of a majority of your community's core beliefs? I try to hang in there for the people's sake- for the sake of practicing love and being accountable to others in community- but lately I've been feeling like I'm at a standstill. I don't want to disturb ideas about "God" or "ultimate reality" that others find meaningful but I also don't want to be restrained from seeking answers to my personal questions and exploring other perspectives about "truth." I struggle with this because I can't imagine evangelizing and going forth preaching certain doctrines as necessary if I am not convinced of them myself. So how does a skeptical seeker function in an church where evangelism is central? How does a skeptical seeker evangelize? Then again, maybe we don't have to. Perhaps there is more to the "good news" than doctrine and dogma. Perhaps, "the way" is about living fuller lives on the Earth as humans who think deep and love hard.
Is Atonement Even Necessary?
The doctrine of the atonement has become a major issue of investigation for me as an artist/writer pursuing my Master’s in Theological Studies. It is major because so much Christian theology seems to hinge on it. At its core, the doctrine of the atonement is the belief that “Jesus died for the sins of the world.”
Popular notions advance the idea that God pre-planned Jesus’ death on the cross to serve as a satisfaction for the “sin debt” of the world- a debt brought about by the original sin of Adam and Eve as written in the Book of Genesis. Theologians throughout history have developed myriad ways of explaining the significance of this doctrine in Christian theology.
My skepticism towards this doctrine has really made me sensitive to how much it has been incorporated into the liturgies of the church and chapel I regularly attend. The hymns are full of references to this bloody transaction and it is deeply ingrained into the language of the communion ceremony.
Honestly, I find the whole notion and necessity of atonement for the sins of the world hard to believe. But I also realize that many people committed to "the Jesus path" consider it to be "good news." For many Christians today and in centuries past, it has served as a meaningful, powerful and life-changing idea. For some, it has been the sole reason they have committed their lives to the Christian faith in the first place. But I have found a few reasons to remain skeptical.
Drawing from the literary clues I find in the first three chapters of the Book of Genesis and evolutionary theory’s insights regarding the origins of biological life, I conclude that the creation stories of Genesis are myths that reflect the values and concerns of the ancient Hebrew authors- not actual history. Therefore, I see no reason why there would be any need to atone for sins committed by mythological characters.
I also find very little in my readings of the synoptic Gospels that even hints towards the idea of atonement being taught "from Jesus' mouth." I have only found one verse in Mark quoting Jesus as saying that "the Son of Man" would serve and "give his life as a ransom for many" and a verse in Matthew 26:28 where Jesus, sitting at a private Passover dinner with his disciples, talks about his own blood being "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." The fact that Matthew’s gospel contains the only "last supper" account that even alludes to the idea of sins being forgiven doesn’t helps its case in my opinion.
Jesus taught a great many things that addressed a wide variety of spiritual, ethical, moral and social concerns, but I have been hard pressed to find him promoting an atonement doctrine in the parables he shared with listening crowds and in the prayer he taught his students/disciples.
In teaching "the Lord's prayer," Jesus advised his disciples to pray to God and ask for forgiveness daily. The way I see it, this doesn't seem to indicate any need for anyone to die in order for "God" to forgive them. God, as Jesus describes in the Lord's prayer, seems more approachable than the distant, holy and strict deity many of us have been taught to believe in. Plus, the idea of a God that would even require such a sacrifice strikes me as being more reflective of an ancient tribal (dare I say "superstitious") ritual where animal sacrifice was believed to appease the gods. Plus, this image of a God that requires such a sacrifice doesn't really square well with the image of God promoted by Jesus' story of the Prodigal Son.
For "atonement" to be so central to traditional Christian dogma, you would think that Jesus would have talked about it more often than he did. I suspect that many churches today base a majority of their atonement ideas on Paul's letters, other writings of the New Testament, and classic Christian theology as taught by Augustine of Hippo, Anselm of Canterbury and others.
But my scholarship and “gut feeling” lead me to believe that the doctrine of the atonement emerged mainly as an elaborate way to make sense of the senseless and tragic death of the wise and compassionate, Palestinian storyteller/prophet named Jesus of Nazareth- a human being believed by many to be a healer and viewed by his early followers as "the anointed one" (Messiah) or "the Son of God" (perhaps a title as opposed to a biological fact)- who was tortured and executed by the religious and political authorities of his day because he was perceived as a threat to their established orders.
That's my take on it (for what it's worth). I'm a student and I know I have much more to learn, but this makes sense to me.
Popular notions advance the idea that God pre-planned Jesus’ death on the cross to serve as a satisfaction for the “sin debt” of the world- a debt brought about by the original sin of Adam and Eve as written in the Book of Genesis. Theologians throughout history have developed myriad ways of explaining the significance of this doctrine in Christian theology.
My skepticism towards this doctrine has really made me sensitive to how much it has been incorporated into the liturgies of the church and chapel I regularly attend. The hymns are full of references to this bloody transaction and it is deeply ingrained into the language of the communion ceremony.
Honestly, I find the whole notion and necessity of atonement for the sins of the world hard to believe. But I also realize that many people committed to "the Jesus path" consider it to be "good news." For many Christians today and in centuries past, it has served as a meaningful, powerful and life-changing idea. For some, it has been the sole reason they have committed their lives to the Christian faith in the first place. But I have found a few reasons to remain skeptical.
Drawing from the literary clues I find in the first three chapters of the Book of Genesis and evolutionary theory’s insights regarding the origins of biological life, I conclude that the creation stories of Genesis are myths that reflect the values and concerns of the ancient Hebrew authors- not actual history. Therefore, I see no reason why there would be any need to atone for sins committed by mythological characters.
I also find very little in my readings of the synoptic Gospels that even hints towards the idea of atonement being taught "from Jesus' mouth." I have only found one verse in Mark quoting Jesus as saying that "the Son of Man" would serve and "give his life as a ransom for many" and a verse in Matthew 26:28 where Jesus, sitting at a private Passover dinner with his disciples, talks about his own blood being "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." The fact that Matthew’s gospel contains the only "last supper" account that even alludes to the idea of sins being forgiven doesn’t helps its case in my opinion.
Jesus taught a great many things that addressed a wide variety of spiritual, ethical, moral and social concerns, but I have been hard pressed to find him promoting an atonement doctrine in the parables he shared with listening crowds and in the prayer he taught his students/disciples.
In teaching "the Lord's prayer," Jesus advised his disciples to pray to God and ask for forgiveness daily. The way I see it, this doesn't seem to indicate any need for anyone to die in order for "God" to forgive them. God, as Jesus describes in the Lord's prayer, seems more approachable than the distant, holy and strict deity many of us have been taught to believe in. Plus, the idea of a God that would even require such a sacrifice strikes me as being more reflective of an ancient tribal (dare I say "superstitious") ritual where animal sacrifice was believed to appease the gods. Plus, this image of a God that requires such a sacrifice doesn't really square well with the image of God promoted by Jesus' story of the Prodigal Son.
For "atonement" to be so central to traditional Christian dogma, you would think that Jesus would have talked about it more often than he did. I suspect that many churches today base a majority of their atonement ideas on Paul's letters, other writings of the New Testament, and classic Christian theology as taught by Augustine of Hippo, Anselm of Canterbury and others.
But my scholarship and “gut feeling” lead me to believe that the doctrine of the atonement emerged mainly as an elaborate way to make sense of the senseless and tragic death of the wise and compassionate, Palestinian storyteller/prophet named Jesus of Nazareth- a human being believed by many to be a healer and viewed by his early followers as "the anointed one" (Messiah) or "the Son of God" (perhaps a title as opposed to a biological fact)- who was tortured and executed by the religious and political authorities of his day because he was perceived as a threat to their established orders.
That's my take on it (for what it's worth). I'm a student and I know I have much more to learn, but this makes sense to me.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
What can I teach when my own views are changing? (Part One)
How do you raise children of faith when your own religious views are evolving? This is a question that increasingly concerns me as my two-year old daughter grows more and more cognizant of the world around her.
You never know what memories will stick with a child into adulthood. It seems to me that children are more likely to remember those things that are consistently repeated and those things that are so bizarre that they are unforgettable. Some of her friends at day care already know how to say their own prayers before they eat and before they go to bed because their parents rehearse this with them every day. Right now, all my daughter can muster is an “A-men!” that she learned that from her babysitter. She doesn’t get to see my wife and I pray at home. I sometimes hover over her as she sleeps in her dark bedroom and meditate on ways my wife and I can be wise in raising and providing for her, but she never sees that.
The thing is…I am hesitant to plant into my daughter’s mind the seeds of a faith that I don’t find convincing. I don’t want to indoctrinate her in fear, insecurity, or insufficiency. At the church we attend, committed Sunday school instructors are currently constructing lesson plans for the younger children. These are the classes that our daughter will most likely be attending in the coming years (unless we find somewhere else to go on Sunday mornings). But, knowing this, some serious questions are beginning to gnaw at me. Will I approve of what they teach her? Will she be indoctrinated with a lot of religious propaganda that will cripple her chances of becoming a compassionate, critical thinker? Will these "Sunday school" lessons end up confusing her or offending her to the point she rejects them completely when she gets older? Will she think I’m a hell-bound heretic if I tell her I don’t believe most of what they teach her?
I wonder if I should I teach her those things that shaped me when I was a child? I wasn't raised in church and I never attended a lot of Sunday school classes when I was younger, but I went to Catholic schools all through elementary. There, Second Vatican-influenced nuns taught us about the character of Jesus and his parables of the merciful Samaritan, the prodigal son, the lost sheep, and the two builders. These teachings played a major role in shaping my thinking regarding ethics, love, forgiveness, and wisdom. I still cherish those stories and they still guide me today. But we were also taught us to memorize creedal statements and the ten commandments (all of which I have either rejected or brought under serious re-examination). How can I pass along the wisdom I gleaned from Jesus' teachings without all of the confusing and incredulous doctrinal claims that often go along with them?
Ultimately, I want to know how (and if) my own spiritual and intellectual journey can help my child. What am I showing her when it comes to a life of faith and reason? As far as religion, she sees us when we go to church every week: I play bass in the church band and my wife sings in the choir. But I’d like to show her that the spiritual life is not limited to Sunday morning rituals and that the intellectual life is not incompatible with spiritual pursuits.
I know that I can and should indoctrinate my child to share and not to shove, but I wonder what I should teach her about “God”? What can I teach her about "God" when my thoughts are constantly changing? I don’t want to teach her myths when she is young only to confess them as being playful deceptions when she gets older (like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny). I don’t want to waste her time like that and dare not erode my credibility in her eyes.
I want my daughter to trust me. I also want her to be able to love people and think for herself. I also want her to be honest, humble, loving, and considerate. I want her to be wise and responsible. I want her to be grateful. I want her to do good. I want her to know how to be resourceful and to commit to finding solutions to the problems she will encounter in life.
Lately, I’ve been trying to cultivate a spirit of wonder in her by making it a priority to take her on regular walks through the woods, letting her pick leaves off of low hanging branches and letting her frolic around on the neighborhood playgrounds playing in the sand and gravel. So far, nature has been a helpful visual aid for teaching her how to identify colors and objects (I recall how often the Gospels portray Jesus teaching lessons based on what he observed in the natural world).
I've also been doing a lot of soul-searching, studying and research- restlessly seeking a way to live in this world so that I can share the truths I find most convincing with her. Perhaps all I can do is teach her by my example and answer any questions she raises with as much honesty as I believe she can handle. Hoping that she too will learn how to search and reach her own conclusions as she grows older.
You never know what memories will stick with a child into adulthood. It seems to me that children are more likely to remember those things that are consistently repeated and those things that are so bizarre that they are unforgettable. Some of her friends at day care already know how to say their own prayers before they eat and before they go to bed because their parents rehearse this with them every day. Right now, all my daughter can muster is an “A-men!” that she learned that from her babysitter. She doesn’t get to see my wife and I pray at home. I sometimes hover over her as she sleeps in her dark bedroom and meditate on ways my wife and I can be wise in raising and providing for her, but she never sees that.
The thing is…I am hesitant to plant into my daughter’s mind the seeds of a faith that I don’t find convincing. I don’t want to indoctrinate her in fear, insecurity, or insufficiency. At the church we attend, committed Sunday school instructors are currently constructing lesson plans for the younger children. These are the classes that our daughter will most likely be attending in the coming years (unless we find somewhere else to go on Sunday mornings). But, knowing this, some serious questions are beginning to gnaw at me. Will I approve of what they teach her? Will she be indoctrinated with a lot of religious propaganda that will cripple her chances of becoming a compassionate, critical thinker? Will these "Sunday school" lessons end up confusing her or offending her to the point she rejects them completely when she gets older? Will she think I’m a hell-bound heretic if I tell her I don’t believe most of what they teach her?
I wonder if I should I teach her those things that shaped me when I was a child? I wasn't raised in church and I never attended a lot of Sunday school classes when I was younger, but I went to Catholic schools all through elementary. There, Second Vatican-influenced nuns taught us about the character of Jesus and his parables of the merciful Samaritan, the prodigal son, the lost sheep, and the two builders. These teachings played a major role in shaping my thinking regarding ethics, love, forgiveness, and wisdom. I still cherish those stories and they still guide me today. But we were also taught us to memorize creedal statements and the ten commandments (all of which I have either rejected or brought under serious re-examination). How can I pass along the wisdom I gleaned from Jesus' teachings without all of the confusing and incredulous doctrinal claims that often go along with them?
Ultimately, I want to know how (and if) my own spiritual and intellectual journey can help my child. What am I showing her when it comes to a life of faith and reason? As far as religion, she sees us when we go to church every week: I play bass in the church band and my wife sings in the choir. But I’d like to show her that the spiritual life is not limited to Sunday morning rituals and that the intellectual life is not incompatible with spiritual pursuits.
I know that I can and should indoctrinate my child to share and not to shove, but I wonder what I should teach her about “God”? What can I teach her about "God" when my thoughts are constantly changing? I don’t want to teach her myths when she is young only to confess them as being playful deceptions when she gets older (like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny). I don’t want to waste her time like that and dare not erode my credibility in her eyes.
I want my daughter to trust me. I also want her to be able to love people and think for herself. I also want her to be honest, humble, loving, and considerate. I want her to be wise and responsible. I want her to be grateful. I want her to do good. I want her to know how to be resourceful and to commit to finding solutions to the problems she will encounter in life.
Lately, I’ve been trying to cultivate a spirit of wonder in her by making it a priority to take her on regular walks through the woods, letting her pick leaves off of low hanging branches and letting her frolic around on the neighborhood playgrounds playing in the sand and gravel. So far, nature has been a helpful visual aid for teaching her how to identify colors and objects (I recall how often the Gospels portray Jesus teaching lessons based on what he observed in the natural world).
I've also been doing a lot of soul-searching, studying and research- restlessly seeking a way to live in this world so that I can share the truths I find most convincing with her. Perhaps all I can do is teach her by my example and answer any questions she raises with as much honesty as I believe she can handle. Hoping that she too will learn how to search and reach her own conclusions as she grows older.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
