Not the Sun

Some musings...

Went to Lucerne on Saturday. We wandered the city and wandered into (another) church (more on that, and the trip, at a later date). While in the church, we quickly looked around, and I noticed a table of candles, and I went to go light two - as I had been doing when traveling to different churches. Lighting one for Nonnie and one for Basil. I started doing this after Basil passed away because it just seemed the right thing to do. As someone with little to no investment in the Catholic church or religion or faith, I was never quite sure why I did it, what it did for me, what I was supposed to do or say or think while I did. But I did it, because it felt right. And as I lit the candles in Lucerne I think I finally figured out what doing so meant to me. For the first time since I started lighting candles (and this is, of course, relative to the fact that I've only done it four times) I figured out what to 'say'. Previous to beginning this practice when my mom would take me to my grandmother's grave and leave me there to 'do my thing' I would stare at the grass and question and fight with myself attempting to stir something up so that I could actually do or feel something rather than just stare at grass and bugs. I felt incredible detachment at the grave stone which was always followed by small amounts of nagging guilt. especially at times when other members of the family were there they always seemed to be able to do more than just look down and there i was counting potato bugs. I would just stare and think "what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? Feign a prayer? I gave up on prayer when I was ten.. Have an imaginary conversation with this patch of land? This is too morbid, I want to go home. What am I doing, what am I doing...I like Jessica's shoes..." But now, I think, that despite all the religious connotations wrapped up in it, I finally figured it out. And I lit those candles and I sat and I did my thing. And I realized that this process is different for everyone, and that my difference makes me no different. Some may say the silent prayer - and more power to them - and some may have that imaginary conversation - and more power to them - and I do my thing, and I found the thing that give more power to me.

My mom has asked me whether working for a faith based organization has at all changed my beliefs; made me more spiritual, encouraged me to grow in my faith. And while the above anecdote would imply that perhaps I have, I'd have to say that I have not. But, what working for an FBO has done, has opened me up to more understanding of others beliefs. I have had the opportunity to enter into conversation with quite a few people about their faith or sense of spirituality, and rather than outright question and criticize and pass it off - as I would have done before - I have had the opportunity to learn about the personal power and freedom that they find in their religion, or the way their beliefs shape the person they are, or how it affects and guides them in the work they do. For example. while discussing the HIV and AIDS epidemic, while Emma was recalling some of the statistics followed by stories of people she had met and worked with living with HIV and AIDS, she ended the - rather depressing - conversation by stating that she wouldn't know how to deal with it, how to do the work she is doing, if it wasn't for her concept of God, her belief that something much bigger must be out there, and that this wasn't all blantant chaos. And I found that quite powerful. I found that incredibly important, to be able to turn to your faith in such a way so that you are able to help others and so that you have somewhere to turn to help you make sense of it all. And more power to her. And in conversation with Harold, as he described the feeling of community that receives from his church, I mentioned that that feeling of community and togetherness never existed for me when attending catholic mass - and whether it was because our congregation was too large or because we didn't attend frequently - for whatever reason, it never existed for me - but I could see and understand why he enjoys his church so much as it is more than just a place to worship - but it also seemed to be a place for discussion and sharing and togetherness in faith. And I understood why he would feel it powerful. And as we furthered our discussion about faith and religion, and I told him that I had turned away from my faith and religion a long time ago and that I felt many catholics in my generation did for many different personal and political reasons - he questioned where did we turn afterwards. And while I'm sure that others may have returned to the flock, and others maybe have personal spirituality, I admitted I didn't turn anywhere. I probably won't ever turn anywhere. And it mimicked a conversation I had with my mom. Where she asked me, after I retold the conversation I had with Emma - 'what is there for you? how do you deal with it all?'. And I shrugged. I don't know, because there isn't anything for me. I have taught myself so hard out of having faith, that although I find it powerful and important for others who do have it, I personally, just don't believe in anything. I don't have a sense of spirituality, not in the way others seem to. I don't have a personal God. I don't have a sense of faith. And I think - well thats ok too. And I'm comfortable and happy with that. And it doesn't mean that I'm a blank slate waiting for someone to find me and thrust an idea of God on me that I'm going to suddenly, happily accept. And it doesn't mean that I'm opposed to the idea of a god. And it doesn't mean that I can't understand other's belief in a god. And it doesn't mean that I'm an athiest. It just is what it is. And in my interview for this internship, when I was asked how I would deal with people from various faiths and positions, I said that I would be ready and willing to celebrate differences, that I had my own values and morals that I was not willing to compromise, that I didn't think I could compromise, but that I was interested in communicating with people, learning about their positions, about their faith, finding similarities and understanding how meaning was created for them, that I wasn't going to tolerate them (because I feel 'tolerate' and 'tolerance' is a bad, disrespectful word), but, rather, celebrate the differences. And as I rambled I wondered if this was something I could accomplish - because in theory I would have loved to be able to, but I had never been in a situation where I had done so. And I'm glad because I've making strides to. And I'm glad because I have.