Most of us begin life with the religion of our parents. Just as we are born into the love of our family, so we are born into their understanding as well. It is inevitable that we should be born into some such preexisting nest and that we should begin to see with a borrowed light.
As we get older, we face an inevitable crossroads. As our eyes begin to see for themselves, the torch given us in youth begins to flicker and dim. At some point we realize that the religion our parents gave us now produces more smoke than light. The growing darkness we feel is not a problem with our parent’s teaching, but a result of the fact that we cannot see through borrowed eyes or feel with another’s skin.
Such times of passage can feel like the death of everything we have known and trusted. When a chick breaks through its shell, it is both setting out on its life journey and, also, destroying everything it has known. At this point it must choose between the urge to fly and the urge to return to its nest of origin.
Religion gives us symbols of the exquisite pain of leaving our nests. It tells us stories about the inevitable death and rebirth that true living requires of us. The dying God symbolizes the painful letting go of the mimicked song we learned as children, and embracing the song of nature pulsing within our own heart. The dying savior asks of us whether we will spend our days trying to restore the shattered shell of our past, or find our home in the trackless sky.
I guess I was more fortunate in my upbringing than some. My maternal grand parents were baptist in a very small town where everyone knew everyone. My paternal grand parents were Methodist. Some of my best friends in high school were Church of Christ. After college I married a Methodist and taught high school in a small town where we became sponsors of a coffee house group that was a mix of mostly Presbyterians and Catholics. We also got exposed to charismatic Episcopalians at that time. Seems to me that I was encouraged and had to find my own light from the beginning and I am still on that road. I had lots of input and was surprised to find that most of the differences were semantic. I also came to believe that Jesus would have been very disappointed at the way we have divided Christ church. I guess it is inevitable that we quibble over minor differences and seek out those that think the way we do, but as a biologist I know that diversity is the key to life and evolution. We all will always be at different places on the road; it’s the journey that is important. Now I am being exposed to Buddhism, Hinduism and Religions other than Christianity. Again I see that God’s house is wider than i have ever dreamed and I have to widen my tent to include those that I had excluded out of ignorance.
Beautiful images of what I’ve found to be quite a trip, often with one foot in the nest and one wing in the “trackless sky.” And then, at some unpredictable point, the sky calls me to let go of the “shattered shell” scattered about the nest…and I’m on to the next adventure toward home. Again. And again.
Beautifully said, thank you.