Tag: Spirituality

• A Fall from Grace

  August 17, 2023 3:33 pm Comments Off on A Fall from Grace

  I never discovered religion; it was never something to discover. It was a reliable friend from the start, my Lebanese Catholic family made sure of it. Often it was simply something I was made to partake in, but other times it was more a comfortable blanket of reassurance. Admittedly, my childhood avoided a lot of the emotional and financial distress many experience. I have been very lucky. However, the friend I called religion helped even more so. Something didn’t go my way? God’s plan. I’m worrying about my relationships or an exam? I’ll pray on it.
  Jesus was great, too. His all-loving aura was alluring and inspiring. All the edges and cracks life presented were smoothed over by the all-fixing putty that is faith in a higher power. Sometimes it was challenged, but I was arrogant about it. Atheists just couldn’t understand, I would think. I would often engage in articulating my beliefs, but, when I couldn’t explain everything, I resigned to the blindness of faith. This may have even been the most enchanting aspect. I didn’t need to prove anything. I could just exist in bliss.
  Too good to be true? I think you already know the answer. The religious phase of my life remained proud and true until 2019. In that year I suffered a near-death experience resulting in a broken and infected femur, taking countless surgeries and over a year to heal from. For some, a high degree of suffering would reinforce belief – God gives his hardest missions to his strongest soldiers! You now feel empowered and motivated to embrace your suffering and tackle life’s hurdles.
  For others, a traumatic experience would lead them to doubt their faith. They would question: why have you done this, God? If you loved us, how could you allow such pain? Initially I took the former position, and the comfort it brought was persistent and powerful. Loved ones told me how they hadn’t stopped praying for me. I was told how I was living God’s plan and that He wanted me to live. The feeling of reassurance this brought was a defining factor in maintaining my resolve throughout the recovery.
  As my body began to heal, my mind too experienced a form of transformation in the process. As I began to experience life beyond the confines of school as a graduated 18-year-old, I felt compelled to refine some of my systems of belief. Religion was a good starting point given how formative it had been. And so, I started to question myself. Do I reckon Jesus was God’s son on earth and died on the cross for our sins then resurrected three days later? What about heaven and hell? These dogmas of faith which underpin Christianity became less of a given and more of a point of contention. But religion had been such a beautiful and guiding force throughout my life. It was an aid in hardship and provided unfaltering reassurance throughout times of distress. When I began to consider whether I really believed in God, in Jesus’ death and resurrection for humanity’s sins, and everything else I had assumed to be true all my life, I realised I didn’t. And when this wave of clarity swept over me and I considered how much religion provides solace to those who are suffering, I thought, ‘maybe that’s all it was for me’. Without the affirmation that the basis of Christianity was true, everything else that came with it became a whole lot less credible for me. I started seeing prayer and faith in ‘God’s plan’ as practices that only function to relieve suffering.
  On top of all the beautiful and joyous things that justify life, our world is rife with anguish and despair. There is constant uncertainty, pangs of anxiety and depression people must travail through. Not to mention economic hardship that weighs down most of this world. But with belief in the holy metaphysical and the unfaltering support of God on your shoulder, all this anguish become a little less harsh. This was the reality for me and those with faith around me, especially after the largest point of suffering I’ve experienced. While it seems easier to be religious, it is not something to be forced upon oneself. It must be genuine. An absence of faith in the metaphysical meant all the reassurance it previously provided eventually dissipated. I am thankful for my stint with God, though. While I can’t force belief, the virtues of compassion and selflessness instilled by my family and my Catholic high school are timeless.
  What is God now then? We need meaning, do we not? It can’t be that all the devout have an unfair advantage in coping with pain. I was left with a vacuum of purpose after the departure of my faith. I’m not certain there’s no higher power, I’m just not entirely convinced it’s the Christian God. In this uncertainty, my answer to myself is simple. Life, in all its beauty, justifies itself. Aside from the pain religion has caused by those who misuse it out of hatred, it is a special tool in the arsenal of humanity. Those lucky enough to have a healthy relationship with it can use it to their advantage. Those who are unconvinced must find alternatives.

  Will McManus walks through a journey away from religion.

  Will McManus

• Q And A With A Shooting Star

  August 24, 2018 4:05 pm Comments Off on Q And A With A Shooting Star

  Look up. Look far.
  The night lures you in.
  What do you desire?
  Clarity…
  Peace…
  Silence…
  Stillness…
  Reflection.
  Beware the bewitching hour,
  It entices
  The hopeful,
  The skeptic,
  The lost.
  THE HOPEFUL
  She loves me. She loves me not. Why won’t she love me?
  His mind unravels his past decisions, picking them all apart. Where have they gotten him? Lonely and heartbroken, that’s where. Alone and in need of solace he walks by the lake, the trance of the moon as his guide, as long as he can see through his tears.
  The stars sparkle their mysterious glare. So far away and yet, they seem to smirk at his state.
  Then he sees it. His chance. His star. The answer. It swoops down, weaving its path, unabashed and unapologetic.
  He could wish.
  He could hope.
  He does hope.
  And then…
  He does wish.
  Now she will kiss him. Now she will love him. The stars can work their magic.
  If only it were that simple… right?
  THE SKEPTIC
  Why the hell not?
  The star shot so quickly she could have missed it. One second earlier or one second later and she would never have seen it. Do people call that a sign? she wonders.
  She’s not one of those girls who asks for someone’s astrology sign when she likes them to make sure they’re ‘compatible.’ She doesn’t subscribe to the black puffer life. She looks like a dying fish doing pilates. She’s no buddhist, hippie, tree of life loving, bandana and khaki wearing kind of girl.
  The weekly horoscope readings are for those people who need some sort of affirmation in their life. Some divine guidance.
  They’re too weak to find it themselves. They must realise it’s just an old, unsuccessful excuse of a writer who hates the life that’s supposed to be giving them their ‘meaning’? Pathetic…
  But… then… why did she see look up at that exact moment? Why did it have to happen at that exact moment?
  Creepy.
  Oh well. It’ll do nothing if I wish or don’t wish. Cause it doesn’t work.
  She tries to reason with herself. But the thought is there. The seed planted. And she’s a critical over thinker. So now, there’s no hope of going back.
  Fuck it, I’ll wish. But it won’t come true! Life just doesn’t work like that. I work hard. That’s how I’ll get to where I want to be. To where I need to be. And then everything will all be worth it.
  Ha…They always fall…
  Who’s the pathetic one now?
  THE LOST
  Please send help. I’m in need. Like desperately. Like now. Why won’t you listen?
  They turn in circles inside a cave of mirrors. Reflections mangled. Distorted. Pathways are blocked.
  And time warps. Everything folds in on itself.
  I need a miracle here. Everything is falling apart. I don’t even feel like I’m rock bottom – I feel like I’m sub level thousand!
  Their desperation is the most obvious cry for help.
  They see the answer. A literal light at the tunnel. A beacon to bring them out. And they go for it.
  I need… I want… I’m longing for… I desire…
  They do realise Santa Claus is a marketing campaign?
  They wait for the response.
  Oh sweetie…
  I listen
  But the providing is on you.
  Why wish?
  Dreams are for the hopeful,
  Luck for the skeptic,
  Fantasies for the lost.
  You have to grow the lemons to make the lemonade.
  You have to lay the yellow brick road before you can follow.
  So,
  Make a wish
  Take a chance
  And then go out and do it.

  Woroni SubEditor

• Fear not

  July 27, 2018 11:32 pm Comments Off on Fear not

  A common phrase in the Bible is “Fear not”. This is especially present in the gospel of Luke in his telling of the nativity. Of course, fear is normal and it protects us from danger. If angels came down from the sky while you were minding your own business looking after your sheep to tell us some kid was born in a manger, that would be a pretty fearful experience for most. Fear can build up over time through experiences and perceptions of a person or an organisation. This fear creates a wall to protect us, to ensure that we are not hurt by what we perceive as dangerous. But what happens when we take those angels’ advice and “fear not”?
  I remember I was 11 years old when I went on tour with my primary school choir to Brisbane. We were due to sing at St John’s Cathedral, a stunning church that holds a five second echo that our choir loved. It was there that I had this sudden urge to attend church more regularly. I started praying during the rest of the tour and upon returning home I asked my mum if she would take me down to our parish church of St Margaret’s. Mum said she’d prefer to sleep in and have a relaxing Sunday morning, so the idea was quickly brushed aside. As I got older though, the tension between my sexuality and my limited faith became so incredibly tight it nearly snapped.
  It took a long time for me to reconcile the perceived contradiction between being gay and being a person of faith. Being from a non-religious family, the only exposure to church teachings ranged from stories of LGBT vilification, homophobia, and transphobia, to the idyllic yet humorous scenes of ‘the Vicar of Dibley’. To me the church became the Australian Christian Lobby and their attacks on marriage equality or Safe Schools. It was the Westboro Baptist Church with placards saying “God hates F**s!” This left me angry, confused and frustrated as there was always a part of me that wished to heed to that calling I’d had at St John’s, but that was incompatible with being gay.
  On the other side, I didn’t know any queer Christians. Discussions with queer friends about religion were often filled with cynicism. Turns out when you persecute people for their sexuality for two millennia you don’t always have the best PR. My view of the church began to change to be an institution that only sought power and control, not love, justice and mercy.
  It was only until I saw certain churches calling for marriage equality during the plebiscite that I began to gain the courage to go to church. I started going to a church while on exchange that a few of my friends attended. I originally used the excuse that it was for research, as I was taking a theology elective while overseas. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, I didn’t know if they were affirming, nor did I even know how I’d even ask that. I had my friends with me who knew my reservations, but I felt like I was creeping back into the closet again. My boyfriend was referred to as “partner” with “theys” and “thems” in order to avoid any issues. The church was welcoming and there was never any homophobic sentiment in sermons. But, the fear that builds around church and being gay is hard to shake off, it sticks to you and hardens like cement.
  I started looking for resources for LGBT Christians and speaking to members of a beautiful intersection between faith and sexuality. To feel the comfort that you are not alone, that there are many churches and congregations that love you for who you are and value your unique perspective on the world. This certainly wasn’t what I had imagined the church to be.
  Upon returning to Canberra I found a church near my apartment. While it is steeped in the deep, ancient Anglo-Catholic traditions of worship, the parish has shown to be a more inclusive, diverse place than one would imagine. Queer people are on the parish council and they partake in worship. The priest will ask if my partner and I have marriage plans and if I could do a reading or two during mass. I have finally been able to let that seed of faith given to me all those years ago grow. That heart of stone, hardened by the hatred and bigotry of the minority was replaced with a heart of flesh. I no longer fortified myself behind my wall built of fear and instead decided to cross the threshold. Of course, it’s not easy, and there are times that are difficult, where views and opinions differ. But theology, religion and faith wouldn’t be much fun if there wasn’t an element of difficulty and challenge.
  So, is fear stopping you from taking steps to walk through that door? Fear not. Start that club or society. Put your hand up for election. Start going to Church, Temple, Mosque or other. You never know what’s going to be on the other side of that door.

  Nathan Kerwood

• Faith over time

  10:34 pm Comments Off on Faith over time

  Six years old, first grade at an Anglican school, we prayed every morning.
  Curious and eager to please, I loved school. I didn’t understand religion. My family weren’t churchgoers, so Christianity was just another class; something to learn, something where I could follow instructions, and something that I could try to excel in. Our teachers told us constant tales of God talking to them through coincidences and the feelings within their heart – and of course he did. I believed in magic and the fantasy lands of the books I was persistently reading – what was then unbelievable about a loving God that you never heard as an audible voice? I went through the motions, I prayed, I read the bible, but it never sank in.
  Ten years old, fifth grade, I refused to pray or participate.
  It was a coincidence. There was a documentary playing on the television about climate change. The image of a polar bear trapped on a shrinking piece of ice captured my imagination. I cried for hours. Days later in class I ask the teacher whether animals go to heaven, she hesitates, doesn’t answer the question, and eventually says no. Perhaps it was a subtle form of rebellion. From that time Christianity went from something I half-heartedly participated in without thinking much of it, to something I actively disliked and wanted to prove wrong. It was little things, refusing to participate in Christian studies classes, scowling and rolling my eyes during compulsory Chapel services. It was petty, but at the time it felt important. In grade seven I would make a friend who took a more aggressive stance on the subject. Finding contradictory Bible verses, muttering amongst ourselves during classes and chapels, quietly disparaging the religion and everyone around us who believed it. It felt like a kind of superiority, resisting the faith others had. Didn’t that make us stronger than them?
  Sixteen years old, twelfth grade, confused and conflicted.
  There came forth a peculiar kind of peer pressure. The majority of my classmates were in happy, enthusiastic ‘relationships with God’. The rebellious urges were now gone, who was I to judge the beliefs of my friends? I could abstain without actively trying to poke holes in other’s worldviews. But it’s insidious, the way we see happiness. I began to question: am I happy, when everyone else seems happy? Wouldn’t it be simpler to just be content and not constantly questioning and be confused about the nature of the world? Instead of feeling somehow superior I felt like I was missing something. That there was some great secret I was supposed to have grasped, but it somehow slipped through my fingers. I remember a distinct unease as I started to think, surely all of these people can’t be wrong. I may have stopped judging those who had faith, but I hadn’t ever been able to find that blind acceptance of all the hypocrisy and unpleasantness that I saw in the Bible. I cried after a chapel service one day, because I had begun to believe this must be the true way of the world, and it wasn’t a way I felt comfortable with at all.
  Nineteen years old, second year of university. Free, and contented with not having the answers yet.
  It was almost instantaneous, like a spell lifting, the moment I finished school and left that environment any compulsion to pursue Christianity finally evaporated. I felt free to research different kinds of spirituality with no pressure to commit to the one type of faith. The false dichotomy, religious or atheist, suddenly seemed so unnecessary. I realised that the urge to find meaning in the world, to find some spiritual significance, can exist independently to the pressure of a prescribed religion. I can now look around me with a new vision and think seriously about what it was I believe, and come to terms with the fact that I don’t quite know yet. I know I believe that learning and understanding are always worthwhile goals, I don’t think I believe in an afterlife, but I also believe I could be wrong. I can look at the world and think there must be something more than what I can perceive. But, I’m content to take my time finding out.

  Abigail Manning