Choosing Faith

True faith requires us to be active participants.

I’ve started this post a handful of times, and I’ve struggled with where exactly to take it. Originally I planned to explore the different ways in which people come to understand faith, including my own experience in choosing Christianity, and what that means to me in the face of the disturbing rise of Christian nationalism.

But as the last couple weeks have unfolded, I have felt too paralyzed to write. Watching our neighbors be murdered by the federal government, witnessing babies torn from their families and shipped to detention centers, seeing cruelty after cruelty play out to no end—the unimaginable violence has left me bereft.

So I am tackling this post from the same starting point, but with a different slant. I’ll still discuss the importance of faith, in all its forms, and why I think it’s vital to our humanity. But I’ll give special emphasis to the role it plays in this moment, and why I believe faith and the action it can inspire provides one of the clearest maps we have to guide ourselves out of this current nightmare.

A Quick Recalibration on Christianity

People are sometimes surprised to learn I’m religious. I get it—religion doesn’t have a great rap right now. With the horrors of Christian nationalism at the forefront of the conversation, Christianity especially has a negative connotation. And it absolutely breaks my heart.

I could write endlessly about the personal offense I feel at the weaponization of Christ.

Jesus Christ unapologetically fought against an unjust empire, championed the poor and the oppressed, and preached that all people should be treated as children of God. He could not have been clearer in this message.

I have been Christian my entire life, starting with my Catholic baptism as an infant. I continue to choose this faith because I deeply identify with the message of Christ. I believe all people are created equal, and that it is our duty to take care of one another, particularly the vulnerable and the marginalized. Freedom is often achieved through hard-fought battles, and it’s the moral responsibility of all of us to stand up in the face of injustice. The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., one of the most famous and important Christian ministers in all of history, spoke plainly when he said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” To follow Christ is to fight for equality for all beings, without exception.

Going to mass on Sundays is an important part of my spiritual practice. It gives my family a dedicated moment to be contemplative together. It expands our minds with thought-provoking sermons and touches our hearts with sacred music. It envelopes us in community and teaches us something new every week. It holds us accountable to prioritizing our spiritual health. While organized religious services may not be everyone’s preferred style, I do recommend finding a spiritual practice you can share with others. Being in communion with your neighbors is healing, whether it’s in a church or on a park bench.

Christian+

As my life has progressed and I’ve delved deep into my spirituality, my commitment to Christianity has remained. I shifted from Catholicism to Episcopalianism, where I’ve found a less dogmatic yet just as traditional spiritual home. I was raised in a church and attended Catholic schools—at my heart, I’m most comfortable speaking to God as I stand/sit/kneel and recite ancient text. A gorgeous piece of stained glass and the quivering note of a hymn will always make me feel connected to the divine, and to the millions of people over the years who have shared these traditions with me.

I’m also moved by the concept of the Holy Trinity. God the Father, or parent, who created us all. Jesus Christ, an embodiment of human love and suffering—I believe there is so much divinity in the human experience, and Jesus “helps us feel closer to God,” as I recently heard in a sermon. And finally the Holy Spirit, the mystery of faith, which I’ve always associated with a mystic and feminine energy. These cornerstones of Christianity speak to my soul, and I use them as a scaffold to explore many aspects of faith and spirituality.

All religions have beautiful lessons to offer the world. I am particularly drawn to the Buddhist faith and its gentle yet unflinching teachings on suffering and impermanence. I’ve also found healing in the grief traditions of Judaism, which has the capacity to face death and loss openly—a contrast to much of our current society. I have friends of Muslim and Hindu faiths who so clearly live their lives in devotion to a higher power that it inspires me to ask myself how I connect to God every day.

But I also have found many other paths to God outside the confines of religion. I deeply experience the presence of God in the love I share with my family and close friends. In the solitude of a forest I can feel the divine pulsating through the trees. I recently learned a grove of redwoods is referred to as a cathedral of trees, which feels appropriate. Oftentimes, in the quiet of my own heart, when I speak earnestly to my ancestors, the tangibleness of our connection across lifetimes takes my breath away. I know with certainty that sacredness exists inside all of us, and when I feel its electric current I am awestruck. And I’m particularly drawn to the work of the mystics, who at a fundamental level also believed God speaks to us directly.

Mind & Spirit Together

Intellectualism and spirituality are two sides of the same coin. It’s amusing to me when religion is positioned as a foolish person’s interest, because I’ve found that the more knowledge I gain, the more soundly I believe in God. As an avid reader, books have shaped the way I move through the world. They’ve laid out the complexities of humankind, prompting me to think independently and develop informed opinions. They’ve taken me down a twisty paths of knowledge, leading me to more authors and poets and writers of all stripes—providing a broad knowledge base that is blissfully never complete. And the more I learn, the more deeply convinced I become that God is not only a real presence in our world, but also an active participant in our individual lives.

I’m inspired by theologians, philosophers, astronomers and psychologists who have written extensively about their views of the universe, whether they use the term God or something else entirely. When Albert Einstein declares, “Everything is energy,” I know he’s speaking of a holy thread that connects us all, alongside a scientific explanation of molecular energy. Joseph Campbell’s exploration of ancient mythology helps us understand our current social order in truly divine way. And Carl Jung’s description of archetypes offers a unique and poignant perspective on our place in the cosmic web.

If I were to rework that familiar old quote, I’d say intellect is next to godliness (no hard feelings to cleanliness, but I’ve certainly found God in messy places). Being of a strong, sound mind while also keeping a mystical eye open to the wonders of life is to live in devotion to The Creator.

By its very nature, faith is meant to be questioned and tested. Blindly following doctrines requires no thought at all, and that is the opposite of how God wants us to live. Critical thinking is quite literally the linchpin of my faith.

Author Mirabai Starr said it beautifully in a recent interview. “It’s so much easier when someone tells you what to believe and how to relate to the divine. I don’t actually want that ease. I want the rigor of the spiritual life. I look forward to grappling and engaging with my concepts and my beliefs in such a way that I keep liberating my relationship with God.”

Trust Your Heart

Part of what empowers my current religious life is that I attend Grace Cathedral, a church that embraces expansion of thought. While it’s an Episcopal cathedral through and through, it offers so many opportunities to explore faith without limits. The clergy and congregation pride ourselves on inclusiveness, and that includes welcoming people of all (or zero) religious practices.

While I have little to offer in the way of guiding someone to their own faith practice—that is a deeply personal journey that should be undertaken in the chambers of one’s own heart—I do have one piece of advice. Choose a practice that encourages its members to think for themselves. One that cheers on curiosity and questioning, one that welcomes the beauty of a range of belief systems, and certainly one that doesn’t pretend to have God understood in entirety.

As Susan B. Anthony once said, “I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their own desires.” Find a faith leader who wants to continue to learn about God alongside you, not one who simply lectures you on what to believe.

Recently Grace Cathedral hosted David Richo, a prolific author and former priest, to discuss his book When Mary Becomes Cosmic. During our discussion, someone inquired about the uncovered writings of Mary Magdalene, which are not considered official gospels. Rather than dismissing these works as unimportant, Richo said thoughtfully, “Isn’t it nice we now have so many different things to choose from when it comes to what we want to believe?” This kind, validating response made my heart swell.

I remember in high school struggling with Catholicism’s stance on homosexuality, and subsequently arguing with a fellow student about it. He was adamant that one can’t “pick and choose” what to believe, and either you’re all in or you’re a complete non-believer. Even without my frontal lobe fully developed I knew this made zero sense. Of course you can choose for yourself what you believe. Otherwise it’s not faith, it’s just following orders.

Why Faith Matters

At its best, faith nourishes us in endless ways. It reminds us that we are but one piece in an interconnected web. It encourages us to think critically and approach life with curiosity and wonder. It drives us to find meaning in our life and make the most of our precious time. It can provide a framework with which to approach difficult moments, like the death of a loved one. And in many instances, it creates a beloved community.

But as wonderful and important as all those things are, they each offer a one-sided experience of faith. They’re examples of what faith gives to us, individually, when the true mystery of faith is rooted in what we give to others.

Spirituality is inherently political. Not in the reduced sense of democrat vs. republican or liberal vs. conservative. Our understanding of a greater power can’t fit into a human-sized box. Spirituality is meant to be expansive, and it’s precisely that which makes it political.

As we question the meaning of life and the message of God, we are forced to ask ourselves how we contribute to the wellbeing of the world. What does God say to us about this moment? When innocent people are savagely beaten while the perpetrators sneer? When a sobbing child is forcibly taken from their mother? Can any Christian not see the face of Christ in every victim?

Faith is also rooted in truth. There is no room for falsity when it comes to God—none. You can’t outsmart God, or trick your consciousness into believing you don’t know right from wrong. You can’t convince the divine that you are less aware than you really are.

It’s crucial we face this moment in history with eyes wide open and fully understand what is happening. Read first-hand accounts from clergy on the streets of Minneapolis, watch sermons that speak honestly and passionately about this moment, contemplate viewpoints that challenge the status quo.

Faith is a choice. It requires you to foster an honest relationship with yourself, and determine what you believe is true and good, before you can begin to foster one with God. Having faith isn’t easy, and it isn’t effortless. It demands you question your old beliefs, evolve your thinking and approach life with humility.

Your connection to a higher power may appear anywhere: In a thunderous gospel hymn or a barely detectable whisper; inside the four walls of a temple or on the banks of a river. But however it comes to you, stop and listen. Nurture the voice inside your heart that craves humanity and gentleness—one that pleads for us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. If we all heeded this call of compassion, we could create heaven here on earth.

in love & faith,
anné jude

PS: To end on a hopeful note, this short clip from Representative Sarah McBride is a reminder that justice is worth fighting for, even when the battle feels insurmountable.