As I mentioned in my previous post on Religion and the Shared-Custody Child, I used to be fairly sanguine about my kid not being fostered within the bosom of religion. The idea did give me some minor trouble from time to time, after all, I was raised in the Bible Belt, and thus swam in the same spiritual pool as everyone else I knew. Beyond that, even, I graduated with a M.Div. from Divinity School, thus sinking three years and a good deal of money into the whole religion thing.
My own love-hate relationship with the faith I grew up within, added to the downright distaste my ex-husband has for his upbringing -- raised conservative Catholic, he is now firmly Atheist -- made us agree to not raise our son in any religion at all. This turned out to be easier than I expected; Math Boy turned out to have problems with eating anything other than smoothie, and problems with talking (he didn’t do either until he was almost six) so my energies were turned toward getting my kid to talk and eat. My ex had his energies turned toward work, and his volunteer projects.
As it turns out, religion is about conversation, and you can’t have that conversation with someone who doesn’t talk, can’t ask questions. So, hey, our decision seemed to be fated. Now, however, this old decision is finally bugging me. Why, you may ask. What has changed?
Math Boy’s come a long way in the intervening years; his conversation skills are improving by the day, and he is a better eater than any of his friends. My ex and I finally got that divorce that we needed forever, and we’ve both moved on to happier, more stable and nurturing relationships. My new partner, who was raised Pentecostal and now follows a Druid path, has a deeply spiritual approach to life; our talks often move into that realm as a natural matter of course.
What may be most pivotal, however, is that my new position as Pastoral Counselor has settled me into an office in which all my coworkers are either priests or ministers. I’ve rejoined the Interfaith Counsel in my town as well. Working with clergy — or, I should say, working with these specific and very special individuals — means that I leave every meeting feeling elevated and energized. I receive love and support from those around me every day — and let me tell you that’s a far cry from what I used to experience in the nonprofit and corporate world.
Let me explain a little more. My coworkers are mostly nearing retirement now. They are products of the Jesus-Is-Just-Alright-With-Me 1960’s, when Liberal Protestantism was in full swing, and Vatican II liberalized the Catholic Church. Most of these folks started their ministries in underserved parishes in the inner city, or worked in the streets bringing in drunks and addicts who needed a meal and a bed. Though they are all tweed blazers and button-downs in their old age, you can almost smell the pachouli wafting out of these folks’ shared past.
As true old-school liberal Christians, my coworkers don’t evangelize, which God knows I appreciate. What they do — and have been doing since their careers began— is work on themselves. They try to make themselves better people, stronger people, more compassionate and ethical people, so that they can help those who come to them seeking it. They meditate, they pray, and they accept everyone on the basis of their being human alone — they welcome gays, lesbians, transgendered people and everyone who walks through the door with equal love.
How, watching them day after day be just amazing people, could I not want a little bit of that for myself?
How, in fact, could I fail to let my son in on that kind of an experience? How could I fail to give him the chance to become one of those marvelous, loving people himself someday, if he desires it?
So now I’m left with two questions:
1) What exactly is the takeaway of religion, with all the unpleasant bits stripped away?
2) What part of a faith tradition is worth bringing over to the next generation? What, in the end, is worth saving?
I need to think on this for now.