Religion

Hey Friend,

I’m thinking about religion. Well, I’m not just thinking about it, I’m “doing it,” to the extent that you can “do” religion.

I’m converting to the Orthodox Christian faith. Writing those words is something I never imagined I would do. I was raised to lump religion in with the list of other abstract, authoritarian structures that had one purpose: to control you.

I’d listen to talks from “The Four Horsemen of Atheism” on all the flaws of religion and internally "hoorah” with every stinging verbal blow to “the other,” or those who just didn’t “get it.” That were living in the past and holding on to delusional yet self-soothing beliefs about the truth of our world.

I even made my then-girlfriend cry after logically pointing out all the holes in a belief in the afterlife, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there was a degree of satisfaction to it. Like my point was proven. I was right.

Eventually, meditation and psychedelics led me to Eastern spiritual philosophies like Buddhism, although religion remained a dirty word until I found myself surrounded by people of the Christian faith whose beliefs used to be surprisingly similar to my own, and who are far from blind, thoughtless followers.

Now, I watch a debate like this one, with those same “horsemen” making the same logically-sound remarks, and I struggle. I struggle because after a few back and forths, the only “conclusion” I can come away with is, “it’s complicated.” It’s more complicated than any 2, 10, or 100-hour debate could ever hope to settle.

Once I recognized that (some) religious people were some of the most thoughtful and intellectual people I’d met, then my internal simplification of “religious = dumb” was shattered and the world became much more complicated.

Add to this the fact that many of these people had a quality of “brightness” to them that I had not yet experienced, and I was convinced it was worth attempting to open myself to receive what they had experienced.

Now, I sit in church on Sunday morning and experience a whirlwind of internal experience. Sometimes, I am calm, inspired, and deeply believe that embarking on this path is the best possible thing I could do for myself and those around me. I see the joy, lightness, and love that faith can inspire, and feel it is the perfect counterbalance to a childhood of fear, darkness, and distrust.

Other times, I freak out, ask myself “what in the world am I doing here?” and worry that I’m being deluded into joining a cult for the sole purpose of a sense of belonging and consolation.

Ultimately, I’ve realized a lot of it comes down to trust. When you join a religion, or “faithfully” follow anyone, you need to trust that this person has your best interests at heart. Or, to at least believe that you will benefit by occasionally overriding your own reaction and listening to their counsel instead.

Imagine standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the water. Your friend is telling you to jump. You think they’re crazy. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and every nerve in your body is telling you to run away. But they just did it, and they’ve got a huge smile on their face. They have something you don’t. They’ve experienced a transformation that you have not by facing this fear and working through it.

It requires trust (and courage) to jump off the cliff. To have faith that there’s something in this terrifying experience that’s worthwhile, without knowing exactly what it is.

All you can do is listen to your friend, and jump.

Then you land on the rocks and die. Oops!

Jokes aside, this is why we should choose our friends wisely. We are all influencing one another in different ways, edging each other to “jump” towards one thing or another. Ideally, your friends will urge you to jump off the cliff not because it’ll make them happy, but because they deeply believe it will make you happy.

I’ve realized that these are the friends I want. But once I decide someone is a true friend, I need to trust them. To let my guard down and receive what they have to give me. Without this, I may never truly grow.

I would have never been able to have the more tempered (and empathetic) reaction to both sides of this debate on religion if I had not experienced both sides, at least to some degree. Everything looks different from the inside.

I don’t know where this journey of mine will end. I can hope that it leads me to more of the good things I’ve received from it so far, namely practice in trust and humility, but I can’t know for sure. I can only continue to pull at the string and see what comes down to greet me.

And I’ll of course keep you updated on the ride!

Until next week.

Take care,
Ryan