On Faith

I’ve never been what you’d call a religious man. I was raised Protestant Congregationalist which, according to my mother, meant one went to church on Christmas day and on Easter. She, of course, did neither one. I do remember her waving goodbye to my brother and I on the occasional Sunday morning when we were sent off solo to the church several blocks from our boyhood home. We each had maybe fifty cents in loose change in our pockets to put in the donation plates and as you can guess, we ran right to the store that was located near the church and spent the money on candy. I’m not sure we ever made it to the service. I remember too, the time we spent the weekend with family friends, devoted Catholics, who took us to church with them. It seemed much more formal than what we were used to. The Eucharist, it was explained, was a ceremony evoking the last supper. By chewing the bread and sipping the wine you were, in fact, eating and drinking the blood and body of Christ. What!? We were horrified at the thought. It evoked cannibalism and when the family friends rose to their feet to take communion, my brother and I stayed put, cowering in our seats.

I should mention that I grew up infatuated with mythology. Greek, Roman, Norse. Heroes and heroines, gods and goddesses, labors and trials and comic book-like adventures. It made you realize that when it comes to the divine, people can and do believe anything. The sun is a horse driven chariot crossing the sky? Why not? The stars at night are little lamps suspended by strings and managed by angels? I liked that idea more than the scientific facts.

Odd then that I went to a college that was affiliated with the Presbyterian Church. Of course, I didn’t know that. All I knew was that it was founded in 1852, the campus looked like something out of the Ivy League, my high school guidance counsellor recommended the place and they had a good drama department. And hey, I got in. I never expected that I’d have to take a religion class at some point in my first two years. As I remember my reaction to it was to write a term paper on all the reasons not to believe in God, some of which I totally made up. I don’t remember what kind of grade I got.

Regardless, when I was around twenty the inexplicable suddenly happened. I had been dealing with what I now know were ongoing panic attacks since high school, episodes of unexplainable anxiety that sent me into seclusion, stuck in neutral, waiting for the feelings to pass. It was late evening, and there I was again, lying on a bed, just trying to breath, wondering why this kept happening. Suddenly the voice in my head did something. It started talking. Not to me but to someone else. It said something along the lines of “God, are you there? It’s me, Stephen. If you’re there, God, can you please help me? I can’t do it alone.” Much to my amazement, a somber voice answered. “Yes, Stephen, I’m here. I’m always here for you. Let it go now. It’s all going to be fine.” It was like a wave washed through me. The feelings of anxiety passed. What I had been feeling on a weekly basis for years was miraculously gone.

Was it God I’d talked to? Was it God who helped me? It certainly seemed that way. It also seemed like something I should never take advantage of, asking the all-mighty for help. My way of saying that I didn’t start engaging in any kind of prayer on a regular basis. And maybe I didn’t embrace it totally because organized religions were still uncomfortable to me. They seemed to have such a brutal history with one another. Catholic versus Protestant, Muslim/Christian versus Jew, Sunni versus Shia, evangelical versus liberal. It was, “My God is the only true God” – and - “if I’m right and I know I’m right, you must be wrong.” Simplistic thinking on my part? Probably so. These were issues of governance and politics as much as faith, still, the tension was there and I was unable or unwilling to focus on the positive, communal aspects of organized religion.

And may I add that for me the numbers didn’t quite add up? It’s estimated that the universe is 13.7 billion years old. Scientists say that it is 94 billion light years across and that there are up to 2 trillion galaxies within in this “space”. The earth is thought to be about 4.5 billion years old. It has a surface area of about 196.9 million miles. Human beings have been on this little pea of ours for about 300,000 years.

Am I truly to believe that we matter?

But the experience I’d once had, the experience of faith, was there. It had happened. A voice had spoken and it’s stayed with me.

I have chosen to make any faith I might have, my very own.

—- written in January, 2023