I told a friend I planned to blog about religion today. Her reaction: “That’s a sticky wicket.” Indeed.
My parents were devout Roman Catholics. We had church every Sunday and Catholic school from Kindergarten through twelfth grade.
To give credit where it’s due, I think the Church helped me learn compassion and empathy and gave me a strong foundation for telling right from wrong. I know people whose faith gives them peace and even joy. But these days, I don’t consider myself a Catholic. I no longer believe in much of what I was taught.
This is hard for me to admit. I worry that some family members and friends may be troubled or even insulted by my admission.
In no particular order, here is a sample of what I do believe: I believe there is something bigger than ourselves, but I don’t hold fast to many specifics about what that is. I don’t believe that a white beard or anything else gender-specific is involved. I believe in the soul,
although I would be hard-pressed to define it well. I believe (or maybe just hope) we continue on to something after we die, but I don’t have a handle on what that something might be. I believe “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” is brilliant, and I wish I could say I followed this rule all the time. I believe the best argument for goodness is its impact on those who practice it and those who receive it, rather than a reward in the afterlife.
So why am I blogging about this? I guess it’s because I seldom admit my beliefs to anyone, for fear of being judged. I don’t want to challenge or change anyone’s faith, but I don’t think respecting someone else’s beliefs requires hiding my own.
Kind of heavy for a Monday, right?