Thanks to elenacarlena for asking me to write about my encounters with religion for Religious Freedom Day. My opinions are mine alone, and may offend some people. I hope, in the spirit of religious tolerance, they will remember that their own opinions of other religions would probably offend people too.
For the first seven years of my life, we lived in the wilderness – the Arizona desert. There was no Church.
Then we moved to the suburbs. On Sunday mornings, I had to put on a scratchy petticoat and a silly flowered hat, and go with my mother to Church, where I was dragged up and down to stand, sit or kneel, and my view was the backs of the adults in the row in front of us. Since my father never came with us, I decided this must be yet another boring thing I had to do because I was a GIRL.
I was almost twelve years old when I met my first actual Christian. As the new Assistant Rector, he was in charge of the Youth Group and the Confirmation Class. He came to his calling after a career as a newspaper man. Vigorous of opinion, unfailingly kind, and deeply concerned about helping the less fortunate, he ripped through all the bewildering inconsistencies of Doctrine to the heart of Christ’s message. The kids adored him, but the adults, who were made uncomfortable by his pointed sermons when he took to the pulpit, did not. By the time I completed Confirmation, he was gone.
I started to resist going to Church. The adults all seemed so much more concerned with showing off their big expensive cars and new mink coats (in Arizona!) The final straw was their replacing an unadorned wooden cross with one of glittering gold tinsel. At 17, I declared to my mother that I was an atheist, and refused to go to Church.
At my very Conservative high school, the topic “Why I am an Atheist” stunned the other students in my speech class. Fortunately for my academic career, my teacher believed absolutely in freedom of speech. I got an A. An earnest Mormon student thanked me because he had never understood before how anyone could not believe in God. He offered to loan me his personal copy of the Book of Mormon. I got through the first 50 pages, and returned it to him. For an ardent Feminist, the Church of Latter Day Saints held no allure.
Another friend was more successful. He was a recent convert to Baha’i, and I went with him to several Firesides, which were fascinating conversations over a wide range of spiritual and philosophical ideas. But just as I thought this might be for me, I discovered that one of the couples was unable to marry because in Baha’i they had to get their parents’ consent first. These were ADULTS, and their parents were refusing consent because they were upset that their children had joined a “cult.” It seemed so utterly at odds with everything else I had learned about Baha’i. I stopped going.
In college, my dorm neighbor was into Zen Buddhism. We had long discussions, but she kept telling me that words were useless, so I joined her in a fast and struggled with meditation. I did reach a CONNECTION with all things, felt completely part of a Whole. It was Joy. Of course, she’s right, words are useless. And the exaltation was quickly lost by a return to classes and food. But I had God back – not a Being, but an Everything.
So not "God," but Organized Religion was “the Problem” that needed to be abolished – it was the source of all the misery and confusion in the world.
It was the 60s. I dropped out of college, and went to San Francisco. After a period of estrangement from my parents, we reached an uneasy truce.
Over time, I began to see that “the Problem” was actually DOGMA – that belief that there is only ONE answer, and the people who believe that they alone have that answer.
I moved to Los Angeles. By the time I passed thirty, my parents had given up hope that I would ever get married. But I did fall in love and became engaged. My Beloved and I faced a real challenge: the Wedding. He had rejected his Christian upbringing just as I had rejected mine, so who was to marry us, and what kind of ceremony would it be?
We read an interview in the Los Angeles Times with a clergyman at the Unitarian Universalist church in Pasadena. He was funny and articulate. We went to his church to check him out. We found not only the man who would marry us, but a community of friendly people who smart and caring. And there was NO DOGMA! Everyone’s belief was personal, but we could work together toward shared goals. My Beloved and I were UUs – we just hadn’t known it. The Wedding included a red silk Chinese wedding dress, Stravinsky’s “Firebird,” and sonnets from Shakespeare.
Years later, after my father died and I needed a part-time job while I wound up the business of his estate, I went to work as a temp in the office of a Synagogue, which turned into a 20 year career in various Temple management positions. As part of the Religious School studies, students went to visit several churches and a mosque. After visiting the UU church, a boy asked the Rabbi: “If they believe in Everything, doesn’t that really mean they believe in Nothing?” A very Zen question!
So I learned much about (Reformed and Conservative) Judaism, which oddly helped me understand Christianity a lot better. Neither part of the Judeo-Christian tradition has much appeal for an Anti-Dogma Feminist like me.
I do believe the individual conscience is the best moral compass. My own “spark of divine fire” must lead me, however I’ve stumbled and lost my way to get here.
And that’s a very good reason to celebrate Religious Freedom Day.