Spiritual transformation filled with difficult questions

While on the treadmill the other day, I couldn’t help notice on the TV in front of me the rapid-fire presentation of the news. It was quicker than my pace.

Political in nature, the news was delivered in short segments obviously intended to keep viewers interested and entertained. Often, based on such shallow reporting opinions are formed (or more likely, confirmed), a “side” or a “tribe” is joined, and a differing party, culture or opinion quickly becomes the intolerable “other.” Once this point is reached, any opposing argument, no matter how logical, will not change one’s beliefs.

Clergy and other faith leaders often present life’s greatest mysteries in the same superficial manner. They explain an inexplicable God with pithy statements such as “God is all-knowing,” “all-powerful” or “all good” to give their congregations what they want – open and shut certainty. Many accept these statements about an unknowable God with blind faith (never questioning) or with bored faith (spending Sundays in church out of a sense of obligation).

Spiritually satisfied, they’re happy and set for life. They are not whom I’m addressing.

For many, however, it’s not that easy. They want more from their faith. During various conversations I’ve had with fellow pilgrims, I’ve found them to be thoughtful people with sincere questions looking for honest answers. Unfortunately, the church often discourages questions, especially those beyond a “comfortable” boundary, which adds guilt or a sense of disloyalty to the seekers’ confusion. Frustrated, many with doubts and questions leave organized religion where the declining attendance is felt in churches today. Early in my pilgrimage, I learned it’s necessary, if one wants to mature in their faith, to question orthodoxy, creeds and dogma. It was from working through these questions that I now have a richer faith.

My curiosity began early. Taught by nuns and priests that I was going to literally eat a body and drink blood during my First Communion as a young Catholic. I remember bravely peeking into the chalice disappointed to discover another reality.

The Rev. Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest, explains the path of spiritual transformation using three boxes as metaphor. The first box is “order” and the one in which a majority of believers feel comfortable. They accept, without question, a well-defined, simple dogma. Most enter this box as children and remain happily in it through their lifetimes.

I, too, felt this way through my mid-20s and attended church regularly because, well, that’s what I was supposed to do.

But my curiosity and doubts about religion increased and realizing I needed something more, the second box, “disorder,” opened its door. In this stage, people question, challenge, ignore or destroy church teachings and typically become part of the growing number of “nones” (no religious affiliation) or “dones” (done with religion).

This was my position for decades. I’d like to apologize to friends, family and strangers for the countless arguments I provoked as I emptied myself of early indoctrination and childhood beliefs. Direct challenge came with the territory.

Still, I believed in something beyond the material world. It just did not match the description (prescription?) given me by the church.

Finally, I entered the third box, “reorder,” where for the past dozen years I have been reconsidering and re-ordering my beliefs into what is, for me, a more authentic spiritual position.

Some will accuse me of being a “cafeteria” Christian because I accept some, but not all, church teachings.

But thousands of Christian denominations throughout the world also differ over one thing or another. I refuse to believe simple, often disingenuous, answers to great questions. I’m content with what I don’t know about the unknowable.

To use Morgan Freeman’s words from his recent National Geographic series, “The Search For God,” I am developing my spiritual “fingerprint” bringing my own study, thoughts and experiences to the process.

Do I feel guilty about the doubts and questions that to this day I’m compelled to pursue? Absolutely not. I’m in good company and large numbers.

Years ago, I gave myself permission to question my faith. The resulting long, difficult journey has led me to a fascinating exploration of world religions, an understanding of the range of Christianity (from liberal to Westboro) and a vibrant appreciation for the religion of Jesus contrasted with the religion about Jesus.

No religion can offer certainty. Instead, I hold to the possibility of infinite mystery. Of that I am certain.

Tom Bresko, retired from Mill Creek Metro Parks, is a Christian on a spiritual pilgrimage.