作者：一沉
The Faith of the Fortunate
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Tuesday June 20, 2006; 5:18 PM
My faith is not something I simply believe on the basis of family tradition, though certainly it has its roots in the way I was raised. It is something studied, experienced, and practiced throughout my life. As a Catholic for 74 years, my faith bridges Vatican II with neither regrets nor expectations. It matters little to me whether an organist is playing Ave Maria or a guitarist is playing Amazing Grace; I am equally present to God’s presence wherever I go to pray.
There was a time in my forties when I realized that I did not know God in a personal way. I wondered how one gets to know God. Two words came to mind: read scripture. So I began reading the Bible -- a practice uncommon among Catholics at the time. Years later, while alone in a motel room, I was moved one night to get down on my knees and surrender myself to God. It was a most unusual experience I shall never forget. It took away all doubts about God’s loving presence in my life.
The practical and vocational side of my faith embraces marriage and family as top priority. My professional work, though rewarding, has always been a means to end and not an end in itself. Fifty-one years of married life, the raising of 10 children, and the enjoyment of 33 grandchildren speak to what my adult life has been all about.
The generation before mine is often referred to as the "great" generation.
I think of my generation as the "fortunate" generation. I have been fortunate in so many ways, and I sometimes worry that I am not grateful enough.
I was fortunate for the family in which I was raised, for 14 years in Catholic schools, and four years at the United States Military Academy. I was fortunate to find a wife whose faith inspires my own. Upon leaving military service, I was fortunate to find a job in which I was able to support my family and develop skills I use to this day working part time as a computer programmer.
Mostly I am grateful for a faith that recognizes God as a God of mercy.
Without His mercy I would long have given up in despair trying to overcome plaguing faults. This faith rests in Jesus Christ who died once for all, allowing me to know and accept myself in truth.
--Jim Devereaux, Ijamsville, Md.
Heal Thyself, Heal the World
I consider myself a practicing spiritual seeker. I have known several religious traditions, from Quakers as an adolescent in Pennsylvania to Islam as a student in Istanbul to New Thought in Denver. I was baptized an Episcopalian. I believe in Open Mind, Open Heart traditions. I believe in the Oneness of the universe and of living things. My connection is to Spirit or God or Goddess or Mother Earth and I am one with Spirit.
At sunrise, I practice my sacred meditations of reading a spiritual passage, of reading a poem aloud, moments of deep breathing, and journaling. I try to be mindful of a divine presence at all times in my life. I have to do my morning meditations like exercise to maintain my sense of well-being and centeredness.
For many years I suffered from mental illness disorders which put me on a quest for a higher self far from psychiatric medications, psychiatrists and mental hospitals. None of these taught me how to heal myself and thus heal the world. I believe if I heal myself, I heal the world. I have devoted sixty some years of service to others, often without pay. With these sacred practices, to me, I move closer to my center, my core and my inner light.
Without dogma of traditional religion, I am open with a full heart to others’ beliefs and practices.
--Nancy Vorkink, Denver, Colo.
Humans and Their Flaws
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Saturday June 3, 2006; 5:01 PM
Perhaps the most life changing event with regard to my own faith has been the realization that my church (the Roman Catholic Church) is made up of human beings: some of whom are very flawed just like the rest of humanity -- and some who are very sincerely dedicated to their ministry.
This has especially been brought home to me throughout the duration of the recently reported clergy sex abuse scandals and how the Catholic Church has dealt with them. It could be said that the "dark night of the soul" experienced by my church has affected many of its "thinking" members with regard to their core religious beliefs
Perhaps in my daily search for spiritual truth in "real time," I have found that the truth exists in the text of the New Testament. The teachings of Christ tell us that life is very fleeting indeed, and it is more important to put our trust in God, instead of man.
That concept is perhaps the shred of truth to which I most cling as I continue on my spiritual journey toward the ultimate "truth."
--Betty Anne Dawson, Alexandria
Call for Charity Transcends Religion
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Sunday June 4, 2006; 5:26 AM
Last year, when my grandmother died, my father told me to read "Surat Yasin," a chapter of the Islamic holy book often referred to as "the heart of the Koran." Following the example of the Prophet Muhammad, Muslims read this chapter at sickbeds and in memory of the dead. So, thousands of miles from where my grandmother was being buried in Mecca, I pulled my Koran off the shelf and recited out loud to myself, intoning with the proper pronunciation, or "tajweed," I had learned in grade school in Saudi Arabia.
Much of the chapter contrasts belief and skepticism. One verse in particular stood out to me and made me cry. It speaks of people who refute the need for charity: "And when it is said to them, ’Spend out of what God has given you,’ those who disbelieve say to those who believe, ’Shall we feed him whom, if God please, He could feed?’." To me, the emphasis on giving to those in need, on not taking God’s gifts for granted, are principles that lie at the heart of Islam.
But what floored me, what made me cry in the way that people of any faith weep when presented with a clear sign of truth in religious texts or sermons, was knowing that you don’t need to be Muslim, or an adherent of any faith at all, to believe in charity and goodness. Or to see that, 1,400 years after the Koran was revealed to Muhammad, the skeptics are still out there.
--Eman Quotah, Rockville
Belief Is the Ultimate Surrender of Control
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Sunday June 4, 2006; 5:24 AM
Most would explain their coming to church as an expression of their faith: "I worship because I believe." I explain it differently: "I believe because I worship."
That difference in perspective stems from my personal religious journey. Though of Jewish background, I grew up in the Ethical Culture movement, which believes that the concept of God gets in the way of the central religious issue: how we treat one another. After I started attending St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, I found myself caught in the tension of wanting to participate fully while being an atheist. Three circumstances allowed me to embrace God and Christ.
First, the priest at St. Mark’s when I joined, Jim Adams, was quite a skeptic about God. His example taught that doubting the existence of God is okay, that doubt and faith are really the same thing.
Second, when I asked Jim why he was a Christian, he responded that giving up his life to God and to Christ allowed him to give up his need to control. Jim’s comment was like hearing the voice of God inviting me to struggle, as a Christian, with my desire to control.
Third, I yearn to take communion, which is the most profound sign that God is alive in my life. I am willing -- indeed, eager -- to love the Eucharist without understanding why. It is the ultimate surrender of control for this control freak.
In reaching for the bread and wine, I celebrate the miracle that God has allowed me to break down my wall of logic and control and bring me to his embrace. I believe in God because He gives me both the Eucharist and the desire for it.
--Randall Marks, Takoma Park
Spirituality Outside of Religion
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Tuesday June 20, 2006; 5:19 PM
I do not follow any particular religion, rather I consider myself to be an inquisitive agnostic. Not following a religion and having an agnostic leaning doesn’t mean that I lack a sense of spirituality.
Instead of having rituals or teachings prescribed by a religious faith, I developed my own ways to get in touch with my spiritual side. I base my spirituality and beliefs on my interpretation of facts rather than faith, and I consider my quest for knowledge and my spirituality linked.
Reading the histories and teachings behind various religious faiths and having lively discussions and debates with believers and non-believers allows me to feel spiritually alive. I find spirituality in appreciating beautiful art, literature and music as well as from feeling love from family and friends. Taking long walks in the woods near my house, appreciating all the beauty around me and becoming one with nature also awakens my spiritual side.
To some people the concept of a "spiritual agnostic" may be an oxymoron, but I believe that one does not have to possess faith in a higher power or a particular religion in order to be spiritual. Spirituality is highly personal, and all people, including atheists and agnostics, can have a spiritual side. I feel fortunate to have been able to tap into my spirituality and still maintain my agnostic viewpoint.
--Stephanie Fuller, Fairfax, Va.
Forgiveness Is Not a Weakness
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Tuesday June 20, 2006; 5:17 PM
Atheists, agnostics and believers in other faiths tend to view Roman Catholics with suspicion. They see us as an unforgiving lot.
Forgiveness, however, courses through the religion of my birth like a life-giving river. During Mass, during homilies, during the "Our Father", we Catholics hear time and again the call to seek forgiveness and to forgive.
The faith itself offers spectacular models to follow. Jesus Christ, of course, absolved His executioners. In our own time Pope John Paul II pardoned Mehmet Ali Agca, the Turkish gunman who had tried to kill him.
Why then is it so hard for this unspectacular Catholic to forget life’s insults and betrayals?
Some people seem to defy forgiveness. Often have I fired, hammered and crafted words of mercy in the forge of my heart, a heart divided between stillborn revenge and unborn compassion.
And the one forgiven immediately wounds me again.
Once, after much brooding, I forgave the casual cruelty of a woman I dated. To my charity she responded, "Because you were kind, I thought you were weak."
That experience, and others in the same ruptured vein, showed me the cleft separating American ideals from Catholic teachings. In America, only the weak forgive. Americans expect those wronged not to court forgiveness but to take those who have wronged them to court. Contrary to this erroneous belief, Catholicism teaches me that forgiveness, like love in its purest state, must be unconditional.
Unconditional forgiveness is a standard of perfection, and few of us measure up. Fortunately, most offenses warrant quick clemency. Others demand something more. For those occasions, the Catholic Church provides its struggling members (like me) with the sacrament of Reconciliation.
This rite, usually known as Confession, requires that a penitent admit his sins to a priest. The sinner either discloses his misdeeds from behind the anonymity of a screen, or he meets his confessor face-to-face.
Partaking of the sacrament, for me at times, feels like the spiritual equivalent of a root canal without anesthesia. I also sweat easily. So I shelter behind the divide.
Reconciliation is more than a ritual unburdening. Absolution bestows God’s grace on the penitent. That divine gift firms the spine and softens the heart.
Through Confession I receive God’s forgiveness. His forgiveness strengthens me, and that strength -- not weakness -- allows me to pardon others.
After all, Christ left us no exceptions.
--Lawrence P. McGuire, Waldorf, Md.
Community Allows Beliefs To Evolve
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Tuesday June 20, 2006; 5:20 PM
I’m a very optimistic agnostic, ripe for a deathbed epiphany. I found my faith in a community, not a creed.
Traditional religion fell apart for me decades ago, with the painful realization that I was "less than" in most traditions because of my gender. It broke my heart, and I lost the words for worship -- but how I missed it.
Eventually I found the Unitarian Universalist Church and hovered in the back pews for over a year, fighting the fear that I would have to leave my mind at the door and affirm a belief statement someone else wrote. It threatened me beyond all measure, as scolding responses to reason and doubt had scarred me in Sunday school as a child.
(The UUC kept that part pretty secret, I thought, but I knew they’d spring it on me when I asked about membership.)
There was no such requirement. A kind gentleman with amazing crow’s-feet invited me to sign my name in a book and gave me a pat on the back. With that gesture I was welcomed into a dynamic religious community that has inspired me and comforted me for the last 20 years.
I still fuss about the "To Whom It May Concern" part when I pray, but I pray anyway. My faith in the strength and purpose of this community has grown very strong over the years. I can worship without words, or with an evolving script, and I know I am welcome, I am home.
--Laura J. Wallace, Charlottesville, Va.