During our last Spiritual Formations group meeting, Fr. Bill asked us to come up with our own apologetic, taking a question and then answering it using some of the things we learned about Fr. Hecker's apologetic method. It was a difficult exercise for me. One reason is that I'm still relatively new to all this, so I don't really know that much about Catholicism's answers to many questions (and some that I do, I don't always agree with). Another reason is that I've been shying away from things like apologetics lately and focusing more on my own unique personal experiences and approach to spirituality.
That being said, one question that came up was, Why I am I joining the Catholic Church? It's a question that's been on my mind for a while now, so I tried to give an answer, although I suppose what I came up with is really more of a testimony than an apologetic. I began with a basic observation, using Fr. Hecker's approach of starting with the needs of people rather than first principles and going from there: For as long as I can remember, I've felt like there's something missing in my life, a void or level of dukkha (deep sense of dissatisfaction) that's hard to articulate but ever-present.
At first, I thought it was mostly due to external factors — as if I were surrounded by conditions that prevented me from being truly happy — so I tried to find the things in life that I thought would make me happy. Material possessions. Relationships. Indulging in sensory experience. The usual. At one point, drugs and alcohol were some of the things I turned to. At the beginning, I did it for the new and pleasant sensations they produced. Then it was to just feel normal. Eventually I was doing it to make my problems and/or myself dissolve away. It was an easy short-term fix, but it wasn't a very good long-term solution. Instead of feeling better, I felt even emptier, and I started to realize that I was hurting myself and those around. So I started looking for other ways to deal with the dukkha in my life.
I think most people feel like there's something missing inside, they just deal with it differently. Some throw themselves entirely into their work or family life, others have creative hobbies like painting, writing, photography, etc. Some people like to game, others like to read and go out to movies. Some turn to drugs and alcohol and/or a busy social life. And a lot of these things can help to give us a great deal of happiness and a sense of fulfillment. God knows I've tried quite a few over the years myself. But it never seemed enough, I was never truly satisfied. I always had to have more or else I started to slip back into that void inside of me. Deep down, I was really unhappy.
I suppose part of the problem was that my life lacked meaning, so all the things I was doing was only giving me a superficial sort of happiness that could be easily dispelled. Looking back, that may be why I kept flirting with religion off and on, trying to figure out all the big questions in life, looking for something more solid to hold onto. I explored a wide variety of religions and philosophies in my 20s and early 30s, picking and choosing bits and pieces from each that I found useful. I'd read religious texts, occasionally go to mass at Catholic and Orthodox churches, watch religion-themed movies, and talk to spiritual people of all faiths. I found the contemplative aspects of Buddhism especially interesting and started meditating and spending a lot of time at Buddhist temples.
One of the things I really like about Buddhism is how it directs us to really look within for the answers. I started to get the idea that nothing 'outside' could ever truly satisfy me, that the answers had to lie within. And as radical as it seemed, the whole idea of renunciation and meditation really appealed to me. I'd never encountered anything quite like it in the West until I stumbled onto the teachings of the early Christian Desert Fathers and the writings of contemporary mystics like Thomas Merton, which is when I started to see that Christianity had its own contemplative tradition and wanted to learn more about it. I was particularly attracted to the Trappists and their way of life, which led me to eventually schedule a five day retreat at Our Lady of Guadalupe, a Trappist monastery in Carlton, OR.
At the abbey, being immersed in such a spiritual place, I got the sense of a possible fulfillment to this spiritual search arising out of a deep, intuitive feeling of something more underlying life, a reality that transcends our temporal, subjective experience yet intimately connected with it. And I got the sense that, in order to grow spiritually, I had to be in communion with that reality, with God, nirvana, or whatever you want to call it. It was the same at Buddhist monasteries too, but there was something about the newness of this experience that reinvigorated my spiritual life, which had plateaued. There was a devotional aspect involved that I found meaningful, as well.
That experience helped open me up to an inner peace that I had trouble finding in the world. And a lot of the alienation that I felt, at least on a more abstract level, melted away into a feeling of oneness and community with all of humanity, especially reflecting on the meaning and symbolism of the Eucharist. When I came back, I took Br. Chris' advice and started searching for a local parish to learn more about Catholicism and to build on my experiences at Our Lady. By chance, I stumbled upon St. Philip Neri and began attending Sunday mass and their Wednesday night discussion group.
For me, the idea of communion — intimate exchange and sharing — is an important one, informing both my spirituality and my politics and social involvement. Part of the void I feel is a pervading sense of alienation that I think we, as a species, all share to some degree. It manifests as loneliness, insecurity, separation. We're alienated from ourselves, from each other, and from the natural world we live in. We separate ourselves through psychological barriers, socio-economic barriers, and even physical barriers. We're conditioned by culture, religion, and politics to conform more than to commune, our society reflecting the material conditions that support it rather than the 'idea of the good' written upon our hearts.
And while I think it's important to try and liberate society from its suffering and alienation by changing the material conditions that support it, I also think there's a spiritual dimension that needs to be addressed. Religion to me isn't just a spiritual painkiller; it's part of the cure. I see spirit and matter as two sides of the same coin, two sheaves of reed leaning against one another. And in the mystery of the Eucharist, I saw those two things coming together in the sense of community and unconditional love it's meant to foster and celebrate, uniting the many into a collective whole through a sacred bond that transcends all our differences. To me, at least, it's a spiritual experience that speaks directly to our nature as social creatures. I was drawn into it, even if I didn't fully understand it.
In Thomas Merton's biography, The Seven Storey Mountain, he writes of the importance of our mutual dependence on one another for our salvation, reinforcing the need for this spiritual union with God and each other in the form of the mystical body of Christ, quoting this passage: "You are the body of Christ and members of one another... And the eye cannot say to the hand: I need not your help; nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you.... And if one member suffer anything, all the members suffer with it [reminds me of the IWW motto]; and if one member glory all the others rejoice with it."
For him and many others, this supernatural union is the only thing that has the potential to unite all of humanity together in a truly universal and salvific way. And the more time I spent observing it and thinking about it, the more I thought I was beginning to understand, to see what he was pointing towards. It's a kind of collective consciousness, a realization, of something transcendent, something that every culture and religion has tried to articulate through myths and symbols. It's something that unites us when we strive towards it and participate in it, whether through the Eucharist or prayer or meditative absorption or serving others out of love.
This became even more apparent once I started reading the Gospels, which gave me more of an insight into who Jesus was and what he taught. He was a revolutionary spiritual teacher who, like the Buddha, challenged his contemporaries and their pharisaic approach to religion. He was a wise, compassionate philosopher who, like Socrates, was more committed to truth than even his own life. I'd even go so far as to say that he's the divine human expression of God, the union of 'very God' with 'very man'—Jesus of Nazareth, the historical person, embodying the cosmic Christ, the universal unfolding of 'the word' (logos) through time and space, "the confluence of divinity and physicality, spirit and matter." He's a living koan, a paradox.
I see the Church as the living experience of this universal, mystical reality. By that I mean the Church to me is 'the people of God'—those who draw close to God/Dhamma, who have an intuitive sense of the absolute and strive to realize it. They're connected by this unifying bond of communion, with each other and the reality underlying the phenomenal world they're a part of. It's not something intellectual or dogmatic, but a lived experience of God/Dhamma. Things like the institutional churches (Catholic, Orthodox, Protestant, etc.), with all their doctrines, hierarchies, etc., are historical representations and expressions of this, i.e., forms and structures conforming to, and pointing towards, this universal reality in various degrees, some closer to the mark than others.
I used to think that this void, this feeling of emptiness, was a curse, that there was something wrong with me. But now I see it differently. I see it as part of the human condition, a psychological yearning for spiritual wholeness and truth. (And by spiritual, I don't necessarily mean religious). There's nothing wrong with feeling a void and wanting to fill it, or feeling a sense of dis-ease or unhappiness that you want to transform into happiness. Especially if what you're filling that void with has the potential to lead to an unconditional form of happiness within that doesn't leave you searching for something more 'out there' to consume. And if someone doesn't see things the same way as me, that's ok. They don't have to. At the end of the day, I can only be responsible for myself.
I don't think Catholicism is the only path to God or even necessarily the best. I think there are many paths, and the truth shines forth in each of them. As God says through Jeremiah, "I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts" (Jer 31:33). I see it in the ancient philosophers. I see it in Buddhism. I see it in Sufism. I see it in the goodness of people without any faith to speak of. But the church I stumbled into (St. Philip) and the spirituality that I discovered both there and at Our Lady has had a profound effect on me. I see the truth reflected in Jesus' words and deeds, in what they're pointing towards. It may not be the right path for everyone, but I think it's the right one for me.
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