A Life Worth Living (IV of V)
I was already working hard on mental independence, unconsciously using Gross’s “hermeneutics of suspicion” (121); looking back, I think my fierce desire for physical independence, and my complete disinterest in certain sexual positions I considered demeaning, stemmed from that understanding. Since then I’ve also had recommended (but not yet read) Peggy Reeves Sanday’s Femininity & Domination, and the works of Carter Heyward and Anne Bathurst Gilson.
Through my anthropology classes I understood the essentially changing nature of both culture and its associated structures (such as religion), and also to avoid using essentialisms. I could speak of a particular form of, say, marriage or views on women — but it needed to be qualified as well with what culture and time period those beliefs came from. Learning of all the historic inter-cultural mutability of marriage, as well as its myriad alternatives, caused me to gladly press that information into service as yet another explanation for my family as to why I didn’t bother to marry!
More seriously, in this learning I also realized the speed of such change was frequently not visible within a single lifetime — and I wanted justice faster than that. Still, the slow, constant flux of cultures, social structures, families, and beliefs fascinated me, especially since I could see it occurring in myself as well.
Also, finally — finally! -I had an explanation for the beliefs of those religious folks who could not wrap their heads around the concept of woman as the free and fearless peer of man: I learned how ethnocentrism affects and interprets all aspects of a culture. Patriarchy (in generalized extreme, as an example) can only see patriarchy as normal and correct and natural; it cannot see any other way as anything but a threat to all that is good and wholesome in the world.
It was such a relief to discover this was nothing more than a false dialectical construct, and that my fierce gut reaction to deny the inferiority of women had been correct!
Discovering the Other
Perhaps most importantly, however, college exposed me to the concept and examples of the “Other.” I discovered (to my naïve surprise) women’s predicament was not unique in patriarchy — and, for the first time, I was faced with my own unwitting and culturally taught prejudice. I was intellectually aware of homosexuality, of course; the unacknowledged homophobia of one of my relatives was expressed in properly genteel distaste about men who preferred men as sexual partners. Considering this relative also disdained “hen-pecked” men — men who actually let their wives tell them what to do — and considered himself the “master” of “his” house, I was leery of assuming his correctness on this matter.
I was startled and dismayed, therefore, to realize I had internalized some of those beliefs — when I experienced a small internal, “eeew!” at first seeing two men kissing. I was shocked at myself, and I took a moment to mentally review my personal religious beliefs: did I not believe fairness should be applied to all, and had no correlation with one’s inner plumbing? I made myself watch as I thought, and I came to the conclusion that love, like fairness, should be extended to all.
In retrospect, I probably made the two poor young men somewhat nervous with my fascinated staring. I have no idea who they were, but I’d like to thank them — their clear and unhurried affection for one another gave me time to think through my beliefs, and unwittingly taught me to be a more tolerant person.
That practically religious dedication to tolerance and fairness caused me to continue my sporadically eclectic research on homosexuality, to see if it too had the same historic problems with patriarchy as women in general had. I was fascinated to discover the existence of third and fourth genders in some cultures, and intrigued at how well shedding (or never acquiring) patriarchy’s insistence on simplistic binary thinking served the individuals of the culture as well as the culture itself, by providing special, revered people who voluntarily functioned as valued participants in the culture, forming “bridges” between the sacred and the profane, between woman and man, between life and death (Roscoe 207-11, Allen 196-200).
That mental flexibility is sorely lacking in my native culture, I fear. It is my hope the mental adjustments I made that day, when I faced my internal prejudice, caused my religious convictions to become more generous and tolerant, and will be equally helpful for me as philosophical guidelines to follow in the future. As I discovered through Gandhi’s wonderful saying, I will do my best to be the change I wish to see in society.
Curiously enough, it was when I finally allowed myself to “forgive” both Christianity and myself that my spirituality started awakening again. This occurred through two major influences of the time. The most calming occurrence for me was the discovery of the writings of (now retired) Anglican Bishop John Shelby Spong, who wrote of a Christianity that didn’t insult my intelligence, who believed it was time for a Christianity no longer based on the sick hierarchy of a vengeful and punishing daddy figure in the sky. While I still didn’t want to be Christian, I could now see there was worth in the core concepts of the religion, even though the basic message had been sorely bastardized for the organized religion’s secular power over the millennia.
Secondly, a dear and frighteningly intelligent friend pointed out to me that though I professed to have put Christianity behind me, through my obsessive fixation on constantly disproving, resisting, and ridiculing it, this particular organized religion was perhaps more active in my life than that of many self-professed devout Christians!
I was mortified at that thought! My a priori beliefs on my mental superiority to those still “deluded” by Christianity were sorely challenged. Was I truly an agnostic (as I claimed), or were my religious beliefs simply more thoughtless oppositional defining, a la de Saussure? I struggled with that for some time, effectively forcing myself to work out what exactly my spiritual beliefs were.
I knew I was not interested in any organized religion, since I had no faith in the ability of fallible humans to maintain, over any length of time, a cultural structure utterly free of secular demands and temptations. I also forced myself to ruthlessly apply Jung’s quote to all my personal dislikes and disdains of the time: “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to a better understanding of ourselves.” While I feel it made me a kinder and more thoughtful person, it was not always a comfortable time for me.
Spirituality at Last
I finally ended up turning to non-standard religious iconography for my spiritual inspiration: the search for gnosis itself, and the wilderness. I’d early recognized my love of learning, and sharing the marvelous new things I’d learned, as somewhat Gnostic in nature. It wasn’t until this point in my life, though, that it really clicked for me: the search for enlightenment could be considered a form of spirituality! I found that a bit of a relief, as I’d been rather anxiously wondering if I had some sort of psychic or spiritual black hole inside me.
After I reached this conclusion, and internalized some of the fascinating concepts presented by Spong, I found some unexpected and rather welcome results. First, it was easier for me to see and grasp another’s point of view, even when it was quite different from mine and/or I did not agree with it. Secondly: after releasing my internal anger at Christianity, I found myself surprisingly more relaxed, more open to hearing and attempting to comprehend far more diverse concepts than I had previously.
This is not to say these revelations occurred overnight. What ultimately led to my understanding of conceptual “deity” was, in fact, a passing comment during an interview for a midterm paper I was writing. I’m almost embarrassed to admit the paper’s goal: to offer a questionnaire to both Catholic and post-Catholic women, in an attempt to try and figure out why they either stayed with, or had left, a church so proudly dedicated to patriarchy and the inherent inferiority of women — were they simply deluded, or too foolish to see?
As I wryly noted in the paper: “Needless to say, this light-hearted certainty on my part did not stand up to my meeting with reality.” I like to think I learned well from the women involved. In particular, one of them (perhaps unwittingly) set me on the path to understanding the basis of my deeper faith. I quote from the paper:
- [A]s one of my correspondents thoughtfully pointed out, we all seek ‘god’ in our own way, and we all take our own paths towards that ‘god.’ For some it is the beauty of a sunset; for others artistic creation; yet others find it in a church or temple. What is important is that we pursue our own individual versions of ‘god,’ not that we slavishly follow a particular ritual or path. Ritual is there to assist one in meditation or preparation of the mind; it is the means, not the ends.
- It was fascinating to me to have her use an example which was personally illuminating. As she pointed out, horseback riding was where I found and claimed my particular spirit, where my personal soul or deity could be found. It was just myself and a large, friendly mammal to carry me effortlessly into the countryside, where I could find inner peace in my contemplation of the horse, the team the horse and I made, and the lovely scenery around me. And wasn’t a powerful part of this experience the ritual that led up to the actual ride?
- True, sometimes I did not look forward to pulling on my boots, hiking out to catch the horse, cleaning and grooming it, tacking it up… but by the time I finally got out and was riding, didn’t I somehow feel more ‘right,’ more in tune with the world around me? And conversely, wasn’t the ritual of returning to the barn, untacking the horse, picking out its hooves and washing it down, a similarly slow but satisfying return to the concerns of the real world?
- It was, oddly enough, this seemingly insignificant anecdote that most clearly illuminated religion to me. Ritual is individually significant, and takes an infinite number of forms. Its purpose is specifically to prepare your mind, your self to find your own personal spirituality.