Whipsnade Tree Cathedral
Now, it cannot be denied that Christianity is the religion of a great many of my ancestors (and with a heritage rooted in Welsh mining communities, I suspect a strong streak of Methodism; though my great-great-great Grandfather, the Rev John Jarman, was a Baptist Minister). I will respect it for that, as well as for the value that I undeniably see it bring to peoples’ lives, for the communities it binds together and values and aspirations it inspires in many of its adherents.
In one of my conversations with our local Baptist Minister and his wife, I spoke of the protective and nurturing presence that had been with me since childhood, that I now know of as the living spirit of the community of my ancestors. The Minister’s wife asked me why I didn’t just accept that presence as Jesus, and back then the only answer I could come back with was “Because it isn’t”.
The difficulties I have in fitting with the community whose friendship I so enjoy are numerous. There are, of course, the common ones. I will not accept a religion that starts from the premise that the only way to salvation is through Jesus (I don’t accept the need for salvation for a start). Despite the inclusivity of Jesus’ message all churches, however hard they try, are exclusive. That one premise requires them to be.
The sermon I attended had two element that caused me problems. One was centred around the famous (though contested in terms of source) quote that starts “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.”. It goes on to say “We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.”
I believe that we cannot NOT manifest the glory (if that is the right word) of existence in our existence. It is inherent in our being, even in our darkest times.
The second difficulty was similar, when a call was made for God to circle us; to keep us in love and to keep out the fear. I do not believe that we need nor benefit from that barrier. The wonder of the mystery of our being is manifest to me in both our fear and in our love, in our pain and in our joy.
But the biggest sticking point for me was the realisation, the sense, that I was in the presence of an invader religion. The stories were not my stories. The land that was held sacred, the Holy Land, was not my land but a land in a country far away with stories, however emotive, however “teaching” in their nature, that were rooted not in my sense of culture but in one that was alien to me. It doesn’t matter that I can find much to admire within the religion, its rituals and myths. These are not my stories. That is not my holy land.
Closer to my spirit are the stories we used to tell each other as children, of a devil in the church who would reveal himself if you carried out certain actions (I’ll tell you a story about that another time), the stories my ancestors told, Christian or otherwise, about local spirits. Closer to my land are the wells and hills that my ancestors revered, Christian or otherwise, and the spirits of those places that they approached in awe and fear and love.
I feel like crying again Adam. Because you have hit the nail on the head. And Christianity for me as an outsider and existing on the fringes seems so artificial and contrived. And God/Great Spirit forgive me it has had it’s heart ripped of any vestiges of love and hope.
I went with some gentle folk to Avebury who know nothing of Church, pagans or Druids and I watched them as they watched the various ceremonies and they were all moved to tears. And wanted to know more. What can you say?
Angie, I have no words of wisdom. I’m good with words at times and good with thoughts of a certain type, but all this is observation that I only hope resonates positively with anyone who may read it. And I sometimes suspect that actually the Roman Catholics (the people and community, not the political organisation of the church) have been better at remaining connected with the land and its spirits than the Anglican splitters
I’m just watching the glorious Tim Minchin talking about religion and I think he has it (pretty much like my Minister friend)… the Churches… all of them… are political organisations, while true religion is about your own connection with God or the Gods, or the mystery that is being.
Follow your heart… both the small still voice that tells you that this is meaningful, but also the doubt and the pain. Understand that the Church (big C) locates spirituality somewhere else, with other stories for (probably) pretty political reasons as opposed to spiritual reasons. And discover the stories that you are writing with your life, here and now, knowing that the pain and confusion is an essential part of the story.
All I can really say is that I am making up the meaning as I go along and gradually, very gradually, it works for me. And tomorrow it might not, but if I have any faith at all, it is in the knowledge that that too is part of the meaning of my relationship with the mystery of being.
I think a lot of us just are like plants, Adam. We grow where our seed is, we turn towards the light where we find it.
I don’t even call the middle east the holy land. It’s not my holy land anyways either. I have never had a feeling for it.
My innate belief, as best I can tell, is that the world is a Mystery with a capital M. I try and remember what -I- felt and knew from my earliest awareness. I knew there was a Mystery behind and suffusing everything with life, with light, with darkness, with intent. I am trying to think what I believed as a 3-5 year old.
I was taught “Now I lay Me Down to sleep” as my first prayer. This gave me a word to apply to a part of the Mystery, the part called “God.” Dogs and other animals had a spirit the same as us, they just didn’t talk, or talked differently. They had no hands, but they had paws. Plants had awareness. The sun, the moon, the ocean, everything was alive and part of the Mystery.
It was only at Easter that I went to Church. It was a Roman Catholic Church. I was baptized, and my godfather would become a RC priest. Church was holy, but in a human way that touched this part of the Mystery called “God.” It was a special place in its “apartness.”
There was indeed “bad” even before Church told me what bad was. Bad was something that was twisted from the Mystery and something that tried to harm you. Something to stay away from.
But the yard, the grass, the clouds, the wild doves, the hounds, they were also a part of the Mystery. Not as controlled, not as human, not focused like church, but of a grander part of power, a larger part of the Mystery. But church had cut itself off in someway, from that. Gaining focus in one way, but turning away from the rest too. It gained and it lost.
It was only when I went to Catholic school, when I gained the “age of reason” around 6 or 7, that these things became codified. And layers of other things, including guilt. The idea that heaven was our home not earth. On the one had, it sounded ok to me, because life here was hard. My family was poor and I was picked on by bullies at school, so I accepted that heaven was better. And that God was there.
But the beauty of the world, the life in things, the Mystery was still there in the natural world. So I had a split in my mind between two ways of believing, in nature and in the church. The world of human beings was an utter disappointment unfortunately at the time.
I knew we were Indian and that our Creator could be seen in nature. So I was pretty much dual faith. My earliest experience of the Mystery of existence was further codified by age 12 in Church (sin, God, evil, angels, holiness, saints, reason, etc.) and in Native American ways (everything is related and part of the Mystery, nature is good, nature is the REAL thing, my human family is the most important thing, that and being in good relationship with nature, the old Indian way is the REAL human way before everybody went crazy after money and politics).
Now I am trying to heal that rift in my thinking, trying to make peace between the Church, the Native American, and bring them both back to the innate connection of Mystery.
All the rest of things I encounter: magic, druidry, science, everyday life, mainstream values, making a living, etc. are considered within this light of: Does it mesh with what I already hold as my deepest beliefs (my “ways”?) If I can’t get them to fit, I put the things I encounter aside.
Not that these other things might not be “true.” I am just trying to integrate and not become further and further fragmented by conflicting “truths.” I just have to be what I am, go back to my core of how I am. To find the Mystery again, because all “truths” (and really, all “lies”) stand in relationship of some kind to the Mystery.