And the Lady sayeth, "Thou shalt find thine own perfect faith."

[miladycarol]

This post is in response to some religious discussion flowing through LJ on my friend’s list. Actually, it’s not in response, it is more inspired by the other posts. My two and a half cents, if you will.



Personally, I love my faith. It is completely tailored to me and my experience in this Universe. I am the one and only member of the non-proselytizing Church of Carol. It’s my own personal religion. No one else can belong, just me. Why? Because it is ever changing, just like me and my place in the world. No one else possibly could use my faith as their own. I am happy to sit and talk with you at length, but my faith may change a bit by next week, I never know. It is mutable, like faith should be. It changes with me and the world. I haven’t had the same set of doctrines and creeds for thousands of years. Nothing should last that long. Even the mountains and the rivers are not the same after thousands of years. Why should my particular religion be different?

I was raised Roman Catholic. Really Roman Catholic. My poor Mother completely laments my choices and mourns that I am going to hell for forsaking the one true faith. I just can’t see it that way. As adults, you and I each have a responsibility to find our own faith. Find the set of rules that supports our instinctual and logical senses of what is right. A faith that meets our needs and boosts our esteem. A religion that comforting rituals, but not too many of them.

A friend was over for tea the other day and asked the group if any among us prayed. I was washing dishes and I remember my entire body ceasing to function for a moment while I really pondered the question. Then I replied that I do pray. A lot. It’s true. G was astounded. He remarked in a surprised voice, “Youpray?” I firmly stated that, yes, I pray. I realized in that moment that prayer wasn’t necessarily the Now I lay me down to sleep’s that I uttered robotically every night. Prayer wasn’t the symphony of automatons that mechanically recited the Lord’s Prayer together every Sunday in church. Prayer wasn’t even the mantra of “Oh God, please don’t let me throw up” when I was seasick on a boat. Prayer to me is just like thinking. My prayers are simple.

For example, I hear a car crash and I think, “Please, don’t let anyone be hurt.” That is a prayer. When a friend is telling me about a bad episode they are going through, I think, “Please, let them find peace and solutions.” When I’m making scones and I am running late, I may say, “Please, let there be enough flour.” Those are all prayers. When I think about it, I have a near constant running dialog with my personal Creator in my mind.

I am not one to enjoy religious ritual, either, but I realize how much ritual I have in my life. There is my ritual of petting the dogs and burying my face in their necks every day. Every morning, I rise, drink my water and have tea, then pad into my library to check LJ and email to make sure none of my friends are in need. That is ritual. These are fulfilling rituals. I don’t care for ritualistic ceremonies, maybe I had too many of them during my Catholic years, but I love these rituals. Personally, I find I am closer to peace sitting under a tree than bowing at an altar. That’s just me. If someone else needs the altar to bow before, then I’ll even help them build it. Whatever it takes to make them happy and at peace, if I can help, then it is better for the both of us.

I have worked hard to form the faith that I hold so dear. It is culled from my experiences and the experiences of others; from differing world religions; from instinct and from logic. It works perfectly for me. No one can shake the foundations of my faith, I have built it that slowly and solidly over decades. It will change. Entire rooms have been torn down and rebuilt in a more appropriate manner to current situations. People are welcome to step inside my faith and have a look around… especially if it will help them understand their personal faith a bit more. Please be kind, wipe your feet, and put things back where you found them. If you have a suggestion, there’s lots of scrap paper hanging around. Leave me a note and I’ll contemplate it for a while. If it works for me, I’ll add it to the structure or file it away for later thought. Please don’t try to rearrange things, that’s my job. I would never presume to stride haughtily into your faith and move the furniture around… but I make sketch a new layout and leave it on your doorstep. Feel free to ignore it. Whatever works for you.

Comments

[indiecowboy.livejournal.com]

I like the Church Of Carol....it's a nice and comforting place.

[karjack.livejournal.com]

The Church of Carol comes with scones, too. Much tastier than communion wafers, and believe me, I've sampled my share.

[miladycarol.livejournal.com]

LOL! Yes, the cardboard taste of unleavened bread is just not what I'm going for in my scones. Thanks for noticing! *giggle* Maybe more people would go to church if they served blueberry peach scones and your choice of red wine or red tea. I can see it now... you approach the priest at the altar. He asks, "Would you like clotted cream with your body of Christ?" I reply, "Amen!"