I am disappointed, but not surprised,
by the lack of respect some people show toward others--most specifically in the realm of religion.
I am often disappointed by the lack of respect non-Christians, recovering Catholics, atheists, agnostics, etc. show to me--especially when I have known them for a long time. There are some who try to use it as a weapon--as a point of revenge. "Oh, I know a way to get back at him: I'll attack religion and how stupid it is and, by extensions, how stupid and pathetic and hypocritical he must be," etc. This, though, does not concern me as much as the lack of respect that I receive from my friends--from the people whom I actually care deeply about throughout the course of my daily life.
I want to say that it doesn't bother me, but it does. It bothers me because I try, to the very best of my ability, to respect people of all faiths and no faiths. I do not preach at people. I do not reveal my thoughts on Catholicism or religion or faith or Christianity unless I want to clarify something or unless someone directly asks me. I do not convert. I do not judge. If you believe in a purple monkey from outer space and his hippopatomi companions, I am going to support you. There are many other things that make me a "bad" Catholic, or a "bad" Christian, or even a "bad" person--but this one thing--the respecting others' ideas on faith--this is a core belief in my person.
I believe that faith is unconditional. I believe that is one of the requirements of faith, and why it is listed with "hope" and "love" in the stories. I also believe that faith is personal, and should always be personal, to have any meaning. This is why I will never try to tell someone their belief is "wrong" or that mine is "better" or whathaveyou. You have to come to what you believe on your own.
Family, school, friends--none of this can make you believe and no one can force you to have faith. Forcing people goes against the very basic and fundamental principle of faith and, in some cases, religion. Your journey to your own beliefs is your journey, and it is not a Point-A to Point-B thing, either. It's an ongoing trip with a multitude of destinations, and sometimes you go back and visit places you've already been, and sometimes you get lost and drive in circles for a while. Even when you think you've found the perfect place, you will still have to take day trips and side trips and detours on occasion. And do not, under any circumstances, let anybody tell you differently. Including me.
Faith, like hope (and love), is not easy. If it were, it couldn't be faith.
Why all this? I had a very good friend of mine visiting last evening, and she said to me, "Well, I guess this proves it for you, then." She was referring to my recent diagnosis.
And I said, "Proves what?"
"That there is no God, of course." And I could not say anything for a very long time because I realized that, no matter what explanation I came up with, I will never be able to explain what is in my heart. Bad things do not make me lose my faith, they make me believe with greater ferocity that there must be more--much, much more--than this life. Bad things shouldn't happen to good people, but they do. And maybe, someday or somehow, those good people will find a greater relief. Or maybe, while they are learning how to live with the bad, they will find something that makes the everyday a little easier--a little lighter. Their burdens will not only be their own.
Perhaps I believe because I want to believe, though it feels much deeper than a passing fad. Perhaps this belief is a sign of weakness, of not being able to deal with "reality" as one atheist friend put it to me. But in my day-to-day, at the doctor's, lying in bed with Brody and trying not to cry--in all these instances I've found faith a point of strength. And I am not sure any friend, regardless of how they feel about religion, would begrudge you something that makes your will to live, and fight, and grow--stronger.
I am flying to Germany on Monday, believe it or not, for a second opinion. I will be flying to the States later this month for a third.
I am often disappointed by the lack of respect non-Christians, recovering Catholics, atheists, agnostics, etc. show to me--especially when I have known them for a long time. There are some who try to use it as a weapon--as a point of revenge. "Oh, I know a way to get back at him: I'll attack religion and how stupid it is and, by extensions, how stupid and pathetic and hypocritical he must be," etc. This, though, does not concern me as much as the lack of respect that I receive from my friends--from the people whom I actually care deeply about throughout the course of my daily life.
I want to say that it doesn't bother me, but it does. It bothers me because I try, to the very best of my ability, to respect people of all faiths and no faiths. I do not preach at people. I do not reveal my thoughts on Catholicism or religion or faith or Christianity unless I want to clarify something or unless someone directly asks me. I do not convert. I do not judge. If you believe in a purple monkey from outer space and his hippopatomi companions, I am going to support you. There are many other things that make me a "bad" Catholic, or a "bad" Christian, or even a "bad" person--but this one thing--the respecting others' ideas on faith--this is a core belief in my person.
I believe that faith is unconditional. I believe that is one of the requirements of faith, and why it is listed with "hope" and "love" in the stories. I also believe that faith is personal, and should always be personal, to have any meaning. This is why I will never try to tell someone their belief is "wrong" or that mine is "better" or whathaveyou. You have to come to what you believe on your own.
Family, school, friends--none of this can make you believe and no one can force you to have faith. Forcing people goes against the very basic and fundamental principle of faith and, in some cases, religion. Your journey to your own beliefs is your journey, and it is not a Point-A to Point-B thing, either. It's an ongoing trip with a multitude of destinations, and sometimes you go back and visit places you've already been, and sometimes you get lost and drive in circles for a while. Even when you think you've found the perfect place, you will still have to take day trips and side trips and detours on occasion. And do not, under any circumstances, let anybody tell you differently. Including me.
Faith, like hope (and love), is not easy. If it were, it couldn't be faith.
Why all this? I had a very good friend of mine visiting last evening, and she said to me, "Well, I guess this proves it for you, then." She was referring to my recent diagnosis.
And I said, "Proves what?"
"That there is no God, of course." And I could not say anything for a very long time because I realized that, no matter what explanation I came up with, I will never be able to explain what is in my heart. Bad things do not make me lose my faith, they make me believe with greater ferocity that there must be more--much, much more--than this life. Bad things shouldn't happen to good people, but they do. And maybe, someday or somehow, those good people will find a greater relief. Or maybe, while they are learning how to live with the bad, they will find something that makes the everyday a little easier--a little lighter. Their burdens will not only be their own.
Perhaps I believe because I want to believe, though it feels much deeper than a passing fad. Perhaps this belief is a sign of weakness, of not being able to deal with "reality" as one atheist friend put it to me. But in my day-to-day, at the doctor's, lying in bed with Brody and trying not to cry--in all these instances I've found faith a point of strength. And I am not sure any friend, regardless of how they feel about religion, would begrudge you something that makes your will to live, and fight, and grow--stronger.
I am flying to Germany on Monday, believe it or not, for a second opinion. I will be flying to the States later this month for a third.