parishioner ponderings.

I went to church today.

Around 9:45 this morning, I jumped online to find the website for the Unitarian Universalist Church of Greater Lansing and see what time their service started. 10:15. A slow, hot bath with coffee suddenly sounded appealing. And then I found this. I've seen my share of church bulletins declaring how everyone is welcome and to see something suggesting why I might not like this place was definitely a draw. They are who they are. No Church Beer Club promotion or eyebrow ring-adorned pastor to bring in the masses. Not that I don't like beer or eyebrow rings, because I do. But I've been to churches where they seemed liberal on the outside, pulling you in with their hipster vibe, only to find their theology is conservative and archaic. Which, I feel like I should add, works for some but not for me. This seemed honest. Unapologetic. They don't just accept the gays, they love the gays. In fact, many probably are gay. I threw on some clothes, made a pot of coffee, and ran out the door with my travel mug.

I arrived about 15 minutes late to the sound of laughter as a George Carlin video called Stuff was playing, and found a seat in the back row. A woman walked by wearing a t-shirt that said, "Careful, you might end up in my novel," and smiled.

When the laughing died down, it was time for "Candles of Joy and Sorrow" - a time for parishioners to light a candle for a specific joy or sadness. "We were created for both joy and woe," the woman said. I bet she reads Brene Brown. I watched as participants walked to the front. I tried to figure which emotion each was commemorating and remembered the irony of waiting for divorce papers to be signed as the couple beside us waited for their marriage license.

The message was by a guest speaker and was titled The Free Sign. He began by elaborating a bit on the George Carlin video and went on to talk about our obsession, as Americans, with stuff. I laughed out loud as he talked about a time he and his wife were carrying an old couch out to the road and a woman stopped before they had even reached the curb, leaving her kids as collateral as she ran for a truck.

Anyway, it was all about giving and community. It was good. He talked about quantum physics and how the entire universe is actually a series of probabilities. Cinnamon rolls and poinsettias came to mind. He elaborated, adding that giving changes us, changes the universe. He reinforced all of this with real stories of how lives have been changed when others choose to give. He didn't necessarily deny the existence of something greater, but denied the idea of this grand omnipotent god and focused more on being creators of our own experience. I liked.

I was about to leave when a woman in her fifties put her hand on my shoulder, likely sensing that I was new.

"My name is Kathleen," she said. "I've been attending since May and I really like it here. I'm an atheist, but I wanted something more. I wanted direction. Inspiration. Community."

I swallowed a lump in my throat and told myself the sound of violins in the distance was not real. I have a tendency to get caught up in the emotion of the moment and sign my life on the dotted line - kind of like watching an infomercial for the Omega juicer on QVC and being convinced it is going to change not just my diet, but my whole life. Such revelations are often followed by plans to become an Omega saleswoman and make millions selling Omegas. Balance isn't natural for me. I think I honestly sat there, tearfully contemplating becoming a Unitarian minister as the postlude played, quickly realizing I may very likely lose interest in going altogether and feel dumb when my friends laugh and say, hey, remember that time you were were going to be a clergywoman?

So, I'm not going all gung ho. But, I kind of want to go back.  At the very least, I feel like I have a place I can go when I want to go.

I realize it's common for women who have played a dependent role in relationships to go flying to the other side of the spectrum and be fiercely independent when they become aware of the part they played. And, I probably have. I will probably always be somewhat of a loner, but I am realizing the need for more balance and interdependence.

Perhaps I am making my way there. Since my divorce, I have realized my own power, the process of which has been terrifying yet exhilarating. When you're alone with little to fall back on, you have no other choice but to grow some balls and figure it out. There just isn't another option. And, when you get there, you don't ever want to give anyone power again. Not a man. Not even a god. In the process of becoming independent, you can become a hardass. But, I don't ever want to get too hard. Like Kathleen, I do sometimes want more, whether I ever believe in a higher power again or not. I want to be part of something bigger than myself.

This may very well be another phase. A whim. My Unitarian fad.

Sigh.

Not all who wander are lost...

on subscribing.

My cousin, Carolyn, who once was lost, but now is found, said recently in one of her comments, "Here's what I think about the yearning. We need language to talk about the new god that we are seeking. The old language doesn't work for us any more."  

I agree.

And, I don't think the insufficiency in language is specific to Christianity, but spans our search as a whole.  In his new book, Religion for Atheists, philosopher and atheist Alain de Botton acknowledges the holes in atheism and the failure of secular society to address two central needs of humanity:

"...firstly, the need to live together in communities in harmony, despite our deeply rooted selfish and violent impulses. And secondly, the need to cope with terrifying degrees of pain which arise from our vulnerability to professional failure, to troubled relationships, to the death of loved ones and to our decay and demise...The error of modern atheism has been to overlook how many aspects of the faiths remain relevant even after their central tenets have been dismissed.”

I like that.

And, not just that, but his willingness to look beyond a definitive atheistic box....his refusal to just blindly subscribe and discredit the other side. I'm here; you're there. Such blind subscription is easy. We don't have to think as much; just follow your box.  And, I think it's easy to just let the box define you more than who you really are.

In this TED talk, de Botton differentiates between secular society and religion, adding that secularism is all about [higher] education and information - the lecture.  Religion, on the other hand, is more about sermonizing. "A sermon wants to change your life, and a lecture wants to give you a bit of information. And I think we need to get back to that sermon tradition.”

Touche.

He goes, on, elaborating about other values of religion including rituals, the importance of good oratory, and the need to join together and collaborate in order to change the world. I think what I liked so much about this had less to do with the fact that he is an atheist, and more that he is open minded enough to risk ridicule from peers and actually look to the other side for truth. He is "an independent", acknowledging not just our human need for each other, but the discrepancies in his own belief system - the latter of which, in my opinion, gives him credibility.  So, lest you think I'm proselytizing for atheism, I'm not.  I'm just saying all this because this is the kind of stuff that makes me think and helps me on my quest.  I also say this because whether you are a democrat or a republican, whether you are a Christian or atheist, there is great benefit in looking at all sides, gleaning bits of truth where we can. Because "no knowledge has a monopoly on knowledge." Jonah Leher

I could go on.  But, it's nice outside and if I remember correctly, it is the Sabbath. 

Here's the video...

And thanks to Maria Popova at Brain Pickings for stirring my mind.

beauty of uncertainty.

“I like to start my notes to you as though we’re already in the middle of a conversation…”

A conversation I wish was in some hole-in-the-wall bar over pitchers of cheap beer and the tables pushed together. 

I’d trace the condensation on my glass as we exchanged stories.

I’d tell you all that I’m uncertain of.  Jamie would agree and go put quarters in the jukebox.  REM's Losing My Religion would start playing.  Mum of Six would chime in and say that the song was bloody amazing, followed by, "What the hell am I going to do with my life?"  Then, Rosa would secretly buy the mp3 for everyone because that’s just how she is.  As 26 placed an order for cheese sticks, Barb and her biker jacket would walk in, coconut water in hand, and say, “Sup, bitches?”  Meanwhile, a guy off in the corner would buy us a round and later join the conversation.  We’d find out afterward that it was Elliot.

I don't know what I enjoyed reading more - the comments on the religion post or the answers to your questions.  I just kept scrolling and scrolling, feeling very much like it was a conversation.  I sensed courage when I read words like agnostic and atheist.  And, maybe I am wrong to attribute courage to such admissions as I suppose it takes bravery to say you're a Christian, too, especially in the presence of atheists. I'm just speaking for myself, how I was raised, and the way I viewed atheists - the very word seemed synonymous with bad and evil, as though the god I believed in owned morality, goodness, and love. 

I don't really know when my faith began to evolve.  I remember questioning the existence of hell in my twenties, reading all I could by "emergent" Christian authors many believed to be heretical.  "You're on a slippery slope," some said, without having read any of these books.

From there, I began exploring atheism, almost subscribing, but never completely.   Unlike Christianity (or how I perceived it), the power was no longer nebulously in the hands of a God, but within me.  And, after living dependent and amidst control for so long, I found atheism, like Buddhism, so empowering - it was the complete opposite side of the spectrum.  And, it wasn't just the [dis] belief that I found empowering - it was the whole exploration, the questions that led me to more questions - like secret rooms I never knew existed.  It was the idea that there might be another way.  It was a way of getting my power back, and discovering the extent of my power, without any crutch.  And, I'm not saying that if you're a Christian, God is your crutch.  I'm just saying that for me, I almost needed to reject it altogether, let my house of cards fall, and rebuild.  

And, in this rebuilding I still find myself wanting to believe.  In something - whether it's karma or energy or a higher power or love and humanity.  And, just as one can't prove there is a god, one also cannot prove that there isn't.  I find this uncertainty - this mystery and wonder - fascinating.  And, maybe that is why I haven't fully subscribed to atheism - because it seems so...certain.  So defined. Much like the religion of my childhood.   

So, perhaps that makes me agnostic.
And now on my mom's prayer list.
I feel like I'm out of the closet.
But, I'm obviously not alone out here.   

Speaking of alone, the bar is getting sparse.  Charlie's mom had to go home to Charlie; Sue, Annie, and Bess were tired.  Lena jetted early as well when she learned the jukebox didn't have any Joni Mitchell.  I almost joined her as she had a brand new issue of The Sun waiting for her at home.   But, I knew Jessie, Colleen, and all of you were coming, so I stayed.  And, now here we are.   It's quite late...nearing last call, in fact.  But, I think there's time for one last song on the jukebox...I think Hazel has some quarters.  So, cheers.  cheers to the questions.  the mystery and the secret rooms.  cheers to this ongoing conversation.  

g'nite.

(we took cabs home, btw)