Thank you, Lise.
Peace back.
Another thought I have.
I am grateful for my religious upbringing, in part.
Mainly because I understood about Christ.
Now, in my different life, I no longer know (nor really care) whether or not Christ was real, though I think historically he was. I don't know whether or not all the qualities or quotations ascribed to him really happened either. I think that some of them did.
But for me, what I keep, is that as a little girl, I understood about Christ. He was personal, then. Now, no longer. But that's okay with me. I understand the idea of Christ.
I feel that in part, I understand love because of those teachings, which stayed with me.
I also understand love because of behaviors, which I remember. Kindness in people's hands.
I don't hook them together any more because it doesn't matter to me where they came from, if they are real. When I met the Dalai Lama (spent a week with him) and literally felt compassion radiating from him like a powerful wave (at one of the most skeptical periods in my life) ... I recognized that love was a real idea. Not a notion, but a force.
It's not important to me any more to ascribe it to a particular person or theology or thing. Just to practice it.
In my quirky way I think I'm very religious.
Oy. I can confuse myself but at times I've gotten it. Here's a couple extracts from a sermon on agnosticism I gave last year. It helped me a lot because it was my first near-success at defining my agnositcism as a position of faith (which I know sounds contradictory, but it's where my mind takes it). No idea if it helped anyone else.
I have called myself a very optimistic agnostic ripe for a deathbed conversion. Lately, a more reluctant agnostic who prefers to read mysteries because I’m scared of what more mystical books might demand. I have also defended agnosticism with passion, as a wonderful membranous space that’s as full of worship as a happy ascetic, as full of thought as a peaceful philosopher, as full of positive purpose as a good teacher.
One thing I feel very clear about is that agnosticism is not atheism, and for some reason it really gets my dander up when the two are lumped together carelessly, alphabetically, as though an agnostic is too lazy to make metaphors for “I don’t know, but I remain open.” Agnosticism is not the absence of caring, it’s not dismissal, it’s not arrogant, it’s not fixed, it’s not a lot of things. It requires courage and a sense of wonder. I am conspicuously lacking in the courage department, but I’m awash in wonder. [....]
The attraction of agnosticism is not lack of commitment. It’s not fence-sitting, it’s fence-walking. In the middle of the rail is no time to pick a side, it’s a time to feel the reality of gravity and balance, to sway and be amazed at the miraculous ability of lifted arms to prevent your fall.
Oh well. Sigh. There's a poetry about being poised between two worlds, a kind of dynamic tension. But I wobble.
love
Hops
