Transparency Item: The Perspectives section of the Graphic is comprised of articles based on opinion. This is the opinion and perspective of the writer.
I was raised in a family of what is jokingly referred to as “Easter Christmas Catholics,” also called “A&P Catholics,” a term that references Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday. Most of my religious education occurred in school, and though my family celebrated holidays and attended Mass, religion was not the top priority.
Though people like me and my family are often called “lukewarm,” and I’d certainly be called “lapsed” in more devout Christian communities, I am grateful I grew up the way I did. I think it has given me insight into approaching faith traditions in a healthy manner.
Religious Anxiety
I still developed a mild amount of religious guilt and anxiety as a child.
One of the ways I initially coped with this fear was by reconceptualizing some of my ideas about God, the afterlife and morality. I began to intensely question everything I had picked up in my religious education and did my best to learn more.
This led me to a point in my life where I began to view rigorous interrogation of God not as a precursor to unshakeable faith but as a constant that lasts until death. I no longer want to reach a point in my life where I am certain of God’s existence, nature and action in the world—in part, because I never will, and in part, because I like being uncertain.
Asking the Difficult Questions
The phrase “cherry-picking” refers to people who pick and choose between ideas in their religious tradition depending on what they like best. In my experience, it has mostly been used negatively.
I agree that it is important not to neglect acknowledgment of harmful or violent elements in a religious text or to twist ancient writings beyond recognition. That very process can be central to facilitating harm.
“Cherry-picking” should instead involve a commitment to interpreting existing teachings rather than changing or erasing them. I think it can be healthy to take the good and leave the bad, and in my opinion, this helps facilitate communities full of people with unique contributions to the books.
For example, The Talmud, a hugely significant book in the Jewish faith, seems to reflect this sentiment exactly. The Talmud is made up of centuries’ worth of commentary, arguments and musings on what Judaism says about God, humans and how to live well.
Rabbinic teachings also assert there are “seventy faces” of the Torah, which means it will be read differently by those who come across it. It would then be practiced differently among everyone who chooses to adhere to it, and I think this is a healthy foundation for individual and communal faith.
Religion as a Guide and Not a Rulebook
Though I am no more “certain” of divine truths than I ever was, I feel much more confident in the faith I have chosen rather than the faith I could have simply received.
I have not come to many conclusions in all my reflections, but one I have come to is that no possible version of God is easily explained. I also feel very confident that no holy book, however beautiful, powerful or helpful, is a flawless guidebook for life.
I have also become a better student of the people around me. I love providing my thoughts, but it has been important for me to recognize I am not here to be a teacher.
Learning about how other people approach religion is a gift. It makes me sad to know that people who do not live their faith “correctly” are sometimes viewed as dangerous or in need of saving when they often have so much wisdom to impart.
I have also come to believe that God cannot be contained within one book, document or ancient writing.
Rather, I think God might exist in pockets of all the old stories that put order to the chaos that is our universe. Humanity has always been talking about what might exist, or not exist, beyond itself, and I look forward to a lifetime of continuing to learn more.
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Contact Alyssa Johnson via email: alyssa.johnson@pepperdine.edu
