A Statement of Faith???

While the idea of the “lone wolf” is romantically appealing, and I admit to occasional fantasies of a solitary existence, I know at my core I’m a pack animal. I find comfort in friends and family, in a circle of people who are similar to me and will nod their heads in agreement at most things I say. There’s comfort in being a valued part of the “family” (however you define the word). That’s one of the chief appeals of organized religion. You can meet with like-minded folks. It’s comforting to worship together, to sing to the Almighty in one voice with a group of people whose ideas and beliefs are similar to yours. I suppose having others believe as we do provides a sense that we are justified in what we believe; that it must be “right” because it’s validated by all of those around me.

As a child this was huge for me. I enjoyed going to church, only playing sick on rare occasions to stay home and watch “All-Star Wrestling.” Most of the appeal was that feeling of kinship and acceptance; of belonging to something bigger than me. I have so many cherished memories of the grandmotherly and grandfatherly folks in my congregation who took an interest in me and were happy to see me each Sunday. Another aspect I liked was learning what I believed. Sunday school and sermons let me know what “we believed.” And for an impressionable child this served a wonderful purpose and built a strong foundation. I know this wasn’t exclusive to my church as I had discussions (and arguments) with Catholic friends and Baptist friends about our beliefs. All of us were very sure of the legitimacy of what we believed and had no trouble describing in concrete terms what we knew to be right. And, all of us were parroting exactly what we’d been told in our respective churches.

This foundation continues to support my spiritual evolution. Yet like a snake that to grow must shed the skin that once protected it; I’ve had to shed many literal beliefs that once nurtured me. And it seems that each new belief which emerges is more subtle than the last. There was a time when my beliefs were easily articulated and defined. And for the most part they involved whether or not a certain story was factually true. A statement of faith for me was clear and definitive. I could craft little walled gardens of definitions inside whose boundaries my ideas were happy to stay. Now, however, my beliefs refuse to play in small yards. They’re slippery and subtle, and easily elude my attempts to cage them. As I’m drawn further into mystery I find myself less in need of concrete, easily articulated beliefs; and correspondingly, less in need of a tribe around me that shares my statement of faith. While I still find my association with church to be a source of support and kinship, I’m much less concerned that those around me share my “beliefs.” It’s comfort enough to know that we are collectively supporting each other on our individual journeys.