"So Where Do You Go To Church?"

The third in a series of seven

“So where do you go to church?”
Or
“Have you found a church yet?”

It’s been a while, but if you, like me , are an emigree to these southern parts, then you’ve doubtless heard these words. Probably  more than once.

I don’t particularly think of myself as being overly thin-skinned,
But... I have to say I was just a bit taken aback when first confronted by these words.

Yes, I know, the proper comment is likely, “they meant well”, “they were only trying to be friendly”.
Even so.
One could possibly take this another way, or two or...
Well, we know you’re a good Christian so...
Mine’s the best, so you should go there,
You do go to church, don’t you?                                                                                                    

I would never consider asking such a question of someone I hardly knew, or knew well for that matter. I just wouldn’t.                                                                                                                                               Now, I’m not really one to stomp all over people’s toes when it come to matters of faith.
In my mind it’s really a very private matter, not something you wear on your sleeve or something to make someone feel uncomfortable about.
I would never question another’s faith, or lack thereof.
It’s not my place to do so.

For me,  life started  in a very conservative Baptist home.
My “crisis of faith” came early on. At thirteen to be exact. The more I learned of the world around be , the more I wondered about all these otherwise decent people who were “going to hell”, their only “unpardonable sin”  being that they had not accepted Jesus Christ as their savior.
One morning during Sunday school, I raised my question to my teacher. “How, how is it possible that all of these good people will end up in hell, just because they’re not a Christian?”
My father answered, “you must first accept Jesus as your savior and you will be saved”.

With all due respect, I found this answer to be wanting.
My mother and father were both very good people, the best, but this would result in a schism between us for the rest of their lives.
It saddens me to this day.
I have nothing but the greatest of admiration for my father’s unwavering faith and the strength it gave him through a long and wasting illness. That, I may have even envied.
I must admit, however, to a certain bitterness toward a belief system that would, throughout their entire adult lives, divide a son and his parents, all of whom I regard as good people.

So you must be thinking, you’re an Atheist, right?
An Agnostic?

No, not at all.
To embrace these descriptions , in my opinion, requires an almost “religious zeal” in opposition to faith.
I have no such opposition.
If you are strong of faith and it guides you in such a way that you live a moral and fulfilled life, then I am nothing but happy for you.
I may not agree with your faith, but I’m not about to question your devotion, let alone “try to lead you astray”.
As I said earlier, I may, perhaps,  even envy it.
All that I ask of you in return, please respect my choice of “faith”. You don’t have to agree with me, but, please , leave me in peace to pursue my choices in life. Don’t condemn me, you most probably don’t even know me. Don’t try and “save me”, it is not your place.  It is a very private matter, one which does not concern you.

I was a child of and  I am a man of Science.  I believe in man as an agent of change. I believe not in “original sin”, but in the inherent goodness that lies within us all, although at times this belief is severely tested.
A Humanist you say? Secular Humanist perhaps?
Again with the labels.
Secular, maybe.
Humanist, somewhat. But... science, reason if you will, just as with faith, can never yield all of the answers.
Faith ask that you just believe.
Science ask that you test every belief.
Neither, in my opinion, can be absolute.
God works in mysterious ways. Well many can be explained through science.
Science can answer many unknowns. But... science cannot answer all questions.  Push beyond a certain range of understanding, and... science is, for a time at least, unable to explain.
This is the realm of what I would describe as “unponderables”. That which is beyond the ability of science to explain, given our present level of understanding.
You could subscribe to faith to explain these “unponderables”, that would be perfectly acceptable with me. However, I may choose to believe that someday, our level of understanding will progress to the point where science will be able to explain them. Maybe... maybe not. They are to me, after all, “unponderables”.  
Though I may not view it so, it quickly becomes clear to me how faith and reason came to be such enemies.
I am also forced to recount that of which my childhood mentor Margaret Patton warned me, “the more that you learn in life, the less happy you will be”.
Perhaps?

Earth Water Sun.

My grandpa, me, freshly turned earth. Even in my youth, the smell reached deep into my consciousness.  The sense of deep contentment in being there. The smell permeates me, lingering long after I leave the field. Today, as then, I am easily overcome by the sense of the soil, of new-mown hay, lavender on the plains of Valansole, the maquis, all reminding me, I am of this.

I sit, resting by the shore. Fresh or salty. I smell the water. I see the sun as it reflects. I hear the incessant rhythm of the surf, Distant memories. Amniotic sea? The rhythm of  her heartbeat?
Thirst quenching water . Ancient longings... reptilian brain?  Floating in the embrace . Life.

Sol, thank’s be to you, from whom all life is possible.
If I have a prayer, perhaps this would be mine.
Warm embrace. I am enveloped. Vanquish the dark days of winter. I draw life from thee.  Solstice, I celebrate. Oh joy the equinox. Long days, the light. I await you.

Wooded  mountains,  foggy morning. Damp mist against my body. So quiet. The soft outline of  Pine trees before me. The babble of a creek beside me. The sweet-moldy smell of the leaves at my feet. A slight breeze brushes my cheek. Sol... unfocused, warmth diminished. Struggling to pierce the mist. Birds chirping. Cows bawling. Day reborn. Walking... arriving nowhere.
Water... seemingly endless in the “vignette” of the mist. “Spirits” rising off the surface, the scent of wildflowers opening. Sol, stronger now. My skin, ever warming. My body... ever stronger. One with one.

Celtic past. My forebearers, their “faith”, as mine.
Deep roots. Earth, Water and Sol.

I give thanks to thee, from whom all is possible.