I remember when I was a young boy attending a parochial school in West Philadelphia. School at that point in time was more trying than anything else, and I remember feeling like I didn't fit in. It wasn't that I hated school or the Catholic Church associated with it. I just remember feeling like I was always standing just on the outside of my class...not fitting in but wanting to. I didn't like sports but I had to play. I sucked at softball and was even worse at basketball. I guess I didn't know then that my talents were geared more to reading, writing and literature. But I think my teachers should have seen it. After all, I was a superior speller...or at least if I wrote the words down on a piece of paper first I was.
I had deep faith in church at that time, but it wasn't because my mother forced me to go to church. It was knowing that there was a God that loved me. He loved me despite the fact that I perpetually struck out when it was my turn at bat. He loved me when I played a game of "Rough Outs" and never made a basket, or if I did, it was completely by accident.
As I grew up and realized that I had a choice. I didn't have to go to church on Sundays if I didn't want to. There was no one around to make me. I did attend church every now and then but I didn't have a church home.
It wasn't until I reached my late twenties when things changed. I had lost someone...someone that I loved very much. And I was devastated. I remember walking around the streets of Mt. Airy feeling lost. It was getting dark, and I didn't know where else to go, so I went to a local area church. I walked up to the rectory door and rang the bell. A young priest answered the door and asked if he could help me. I responded by asking him if I could talk with him for a few minutes. He let me in and we went to a small office and he closed the door and motioned for me to sit across from him. And then he asked me what was wrong. I looked at him for a minute, and it was as if everything that was weighing me down came pouring out in one instant. I couldn't stop crying. So he sat there, looking at me with compassion. When I finally got it together, I told him that I just wanted it to stop. That's all I wanted. The pain that I was carrying was too much for me. All I wanted it to do was stop. We talked for about an hour after that and I remember coming back at another time to speak with him again. Eventually, he was transferred to another parrish presumably, but I will never forget what he did for me then. Now, you would think that this would be the end of the story and that I would tell you that me and the church was always on good terms, but I would be lying.
Later, I joined a church and served there happily for almost 12 years. And then something happened that eroded my faith and I never got it back. No...a priest didn't attempt to molest me, but I bellieved that one lied to me. You may ask yourself what is the big deal, people lie all the time. But it wasn't the fact that he lied, it was the fact that he didn't think that I was entitled to the truth. It's not worth going into the specfics of what occured, but it is important to know that at the time, I put a tremendous amount of faith in the church and it's diety. I trusted it with the same understanding that I am a man with my faults and shortcomings. I readily admit that. I also realized that if a leader of a church could not care about being completely honest to one of his members, then how could this man effectively lead me? I mean, aside from studying theology and dedicating his life to serving God in a way that I never could, was he really that much different or better than me?
Well, I wound up leaving that church, and ever since then, I haven't been able to find a chuch home. To be honest with you, something inside of me died once I left that church. I never stopped believing in God...or at least God as I understand Him to be, but I did leave the church. I realized that many churches interpret the Bible differently. They preach love, peace and humility, but in the end, we are men (and women) and we all fall short.
Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I expected too much. And maybe I'm not willing to open up my heart and trust the way I did before. I think about that from time to time. People have asked me to come with them to church and I always seem ready to go and then I back out at the last minute. I guess that I'm not ready to deal with anyone else's faults except my own. I mean, I know what religion is and grant it, it does have it's place in society today.
But for me, I have to love it from a distance. Now don't get me wrong, I talk to God more now than ever. Maybe it's because I know that I don't have a church to go to that I feel that I have to pray even harder to keep those communication lines open. And in the end, God is the only one I trust.
Still, at 12:37 A.M., the thought still came to me: Did I fail religion, or did religion fail me? I think the answer to that is it's both. I think that in the end, we failed each other.
This is a response from a friend in China:
ReplyDeleteI thoroughly enjoyed your last two posts to your blog. As you know, I cannot respond directly in the comments while here in China for whatever reason, despite being in via our VPN. Anyhow, with respect to your conclusion:
Still, at 12:37 A.M., the thought still came to me: Did I fail religion, or did religion fail me? I think the answer to that its both. I think that in the end, we failed each other.
My opinion is this: You neither failed religion, nor did religion fail you. I'm most concerned with the former, not the latter, because as you recall, I shared my view on religion in one of our first exchanges, so I'll leave that be for the time being. However, to see that you question whether you failed religion or not pains me deeply, for though we've yet to talk in-person, your passion for life, for people (friends, foes and family alike) is clearly evident and, in my opinion, does more for the world around you and the people in it with whom you commune everyday, than any religion can do. You have the best kind of faith: you have Life faith (note the capital "L"), Faith in your fellow man, faith in the person next to you, faith that you can (and have) made a difference and do so without trying, without dogma, without strings, without a sense of having to do so in order to accumulate points as a reward for the next life. No, you live this Life, and you live it now. You have had the strength to pull through your many ups and downs, not because of a codified dogma in a book, no, you've done so because of strength of character that only comes from living a life of faith in the best dogma of all: hope.
Peace. - Paul
AND...this is my response back to him:
ReplyDeleteWhen I read your response this morning, it made me feel genuinely good. I think that when I spoke of failing religion, I believe that I placed too much emphasis on dogma and rituals. I know how to live my life and try to live it right with Christ as the center. It's challenging because we live in an unsaved world. One thing that I believe about Jesus is that He is the biggest humanitarian there is. He loved His fellow man, and I believe that we are all commanded to do just that. So you try. I think that at one point in time, I got so caught up in the religious aspect of trying to do this that I forgot that the very people that should know better are the ones that may be the most non-forgiving people there are. The reason why is because I believe that they should all know better and that they are to step up their game. It is the people within our churches that should embrace their fellow man and love them in spite of their faults, but as the years rolled by for me, I've come to realize that it's the same people that claim to know God so well, demonstrate some of he most non-tolerant if not down right hateful behaviors...behaviors to the point where I've had to ask myself if this is how it is, why do I struggle to try to belong.
As you may have guessed, I've always struggled with trying to obtain that sense of belonging all my life, and for various reasons. At this juncture though, I don't think that I have it in me to deal with anyone's faults and shortcomings accept my own. I've grown tired of trying to carry someone elses baggage when I can barely carry my own sometimes. So I surround myself with my work and loved ones...those who love and treasure my friendship and companionship. For those that don't care for me (and there are a few), I pray for them and keep it moving. I don't want to hate or waste time on negative feelings. Life is too short. But I do try to keep those people outside of my inner circle. That may be wrong but it's the best way to cope. Some people in churches think that simply because they go to service or mass that it somehow makes it okay to treat your fellow man as anything less than he or she deserves. I think that most so-called Christians miss out on the biggest thing that I've discovered a long time ago. God is love...love in it's purest form. So if you have love within you, then you have God, and it is your job to share love, not give it to those whom you deem worthy...because when you do that, you are in effect saying that someone deserves it and some others don't. And isn't that straying really close to being judgmental? Something that is reserved exclusively for God?
Maybe I'm expecting too much from my fellow man, and one day, I'll tell you about why I left my former church home. It's a heck of a story. Anyway, thanks for your comment!! As always, it's a pleasure to exchange correspondence with you my friend!
J.