I suppose that we all see religion through different lenses. I’m a cradle Catholic but I don’t always agree with everything my church does. I suppose that I have been more influenced in my faith by my mother who was a long suffering soul who somehow kept her optimism intact in spite of all the horrific things that happened to her. The brand of religion that she taught me was filled with goodness and love. Her example trumped all of the dos and don’ts that I learned in twelve years of attending Catholic school. I still go to mass and say the universal prayers each week but if something I hear does not jibe with my mother’s beliefs I tend to simply ignore it and carry on the way she showed me I should be.
My mama found great comfort in the life and teachings of Jesus. She read the bible that my grandfather gave her every single day. She was not preachy or judgmental of those of other faiths or even those who did not believe that there is a God. In fact she seemed to think that God reaches out to each human in different ways depending on where they live and what their cultures are. She was also very forgiving of people who were unkind to her. Somehow she realized that they were simply operating from a different mindset than hers. When they failed to return her compassion it made her sad but she always rose above their slights and accepted them as they were.
I suppose that I have a difficult time being patient with people who profess to be religious but then demonstrate behaviors that seem contrary to the teachings of Jesus or for that matter any of the great leaders of the world’s religions. I am impatient with those who use religion as a way of hurting others. Luckily the priests in the parish that I attend seem to have beliefs that are similar to mine. The homilies that they deliver are upbeat and kind. They point to the struggles that we all have and give us hope that we are going to be okay in spite of our flaws. They describe a loving and forgiving God who is waiting to help us work through our trials and doubts.
Fire and brimstone have never worked for me. I suppose that is because my mother never used physical punishments or verbal lashings on me and my brothers. She sometimes talked gently with us, pointing out ways the we should treat people, but mostly we simply watched her day after day to learn how to be good people. I have never reached her level of forgiveness and generosity and probably never will, but when I get down on myself and need to re-energize I try follow her example. It never fails to bring me peace and a sense of hope.
We all know truly good people who may or may not speak about their religious beliefs. Perhaps they do not even have any form of religious affiliation. They may even doubt that there is a God, but somehow they follow a kind of spirituality that helps them to be the best possible versions of themselves. We know in our hearts that we are in the presence of a a genuinely wonderful human being when we are with them. They do not need the trappings of religion to exhibit all of the good habits that most religions advocate.
On the flip side we may have met people who constantly announce their religiosity but hypocritically behave in horrific ways. They feign piety while turning their backs on their fellow humans. They look the other way when they see a downtrodden soul. They are unforgiving and angry.
My mother would have simply loved each person exactly as they are. She somehow seemed to get the message of how we should all live together in peace and harmony even as she herself was often the butt of unkindness. She never met a person that she could not love. That was her gift to all of us who were fortunate enough to know her.
Not long ago the priest at my church gave a homily that urged us to look for the good in our lives and in the people that we encounter. I thought that it was a lovely way for all of us to try to be. He mentioned that judging others is never a very good idea because there are none among us who are absolutely perfect. In fact he pointed out that all of us including himself had walked into the church with the baggage of our imperfections. He did not chide us for being human but instead suggested that we keep our own weaknesses in mind before casting stones at others. Listening to him reminded me so much of the type of motherly advice my mama once offered to me and my brothers.
Years ago I complained to the pastor of my church about a deacon who rained down much fire and brimstone whenever he preached. I noted how disconcerting it felt to be lectured and made to feel broken each Sunday. The pastor patiently explained that the deacon was a good man who simply employed a different method for inspiring us to overcome the weaknesses that we all have. He suggested that my way of kindness was his preferred way but then challenged me to be less judgmental of my fellow men and women who were also searching for meaning in life. I took his point and looked for the good in the deacon in whom I eventually found much intense love. We two most different souls became great friends.
We sometimes use religion as a cudgel rather than understanding it as a way of living together in harmony on this earth. Perhaps we would do better if we were to use our faith to find the goodness in each person we encounter. It is there if we take the time to find it. Some, like my mother, seem quite good at accepting people as they are and looking for the good even in the most difficult of times. It can be difficult not to judge but we would be wise to remember that even as he was dying on a cross Jesus was willing to forgive. Our challenge is to first begin our interactions with love.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 