I was raised Catholic. Papa Bear's family was Lutheran (that's the largely Norwegian side), and we would attend service with them when we went to visit them in Wilmington. My big southern Irish family had passed down Catholicism to Mama Bear, Mary. The Catholics won out, so that meant that the Farabee's attended Catholic mass on Sundays at St. Mary's (the fact that my mom was a saint was not lost on me).
We went to church through both my first communion and my brother's, going on into middle school in New Orleans. Fun Fact: Louisiana is one of the few states in the country that does not have counties. Instead, they have Parishes, a hold over to the strict Catholic governments of both France and Spain that occupied the area at various times. To say that they are a God fearing folk would be an understatement to rival all understatements.
As a family, we stopped going to church while we were in New Orleans, and we didn't pick it back up when we moved back to Maine. We stopped praying at meal times when I went off to college, instead electing to say "Cheers" before dinner. This is not to say that my family is no longer religious. I know that as my mom and dad have gotten older (I mean better, y'all, you're not older, you're better), faith in God and in a peaceful rest for their loved ones after they have passed on is extremely important to them.
My views on religion are forever changing. I have most recently called myself an "atheist," as I feel that the mysticism present in the world is explainable by science. The stuff we still don't understand is simply beyond the grasp of our scientific knowledge at this time. We will eventually get there. I also believe that organized religion, while it has helped many, has also been the direct cause of the oppression of billions. It has held society back in many instances (we are still talking about contraception and gay rights, for...God's...sake, and it's the 21st century...aren't we supposed to be on the moon by now?), and the scientific discoveries it prevents from taking hold pose a real threat to this planet.
Ok, stepping off that soapbox now. Because even describing myself as an "atheist" limits myself just as much as I believe religion can often limit a person's viewpoint. Saying I'm an atheist means that I am absolutely, 100% certain that there isn't a God. And you know what? I'm not that sure. I'm pretty sure, but I'm not 100%. No one is, and when we can all admit that to ourselves, we will be all the better for it.
Because uncertainty is a great thing. It leads to deep thought and introspection. It inspires us to learn new things and seek out new ways of seeing the world. It allows us to not be tied down to rigid ideals, and instead forge our own understanding of this thing called life and our place here on Spaceship Earth. There is something truly magical about the lives we live, and the quest to better understand this magic should know no bounds.
Expanding my horizons is just what this blog is all about. So along with my fiance (read shiksa), I went to Temple Emanuel in Greensboro last night. Our friend, Joel, is a member of the congregation, and he showed us the ropes. When to stand, when to sing, and when to butcher the Hebrew language. And wow did I butcher it.
I had never been to temple before, and it was quite the experience. I went on a special night, as it was the MLK Weekend service. The fantastic choir of North Carolina A&T University were invited to perform, and they showed why they had been invited to perform at the White House, not once but twice. Dr. King's messages of peace, unity, and brotherhood were sprinkled throughout the traditional Jewish service.
My knowledge of the Jewish faith is limited. They don't believe that Jesus was the Son of God, and that the New Testament is a sequel that just didn't need to be made. But beyond that, I didn't know much else. So my experience last night at Temple Emanuel was very enlightening.
Instead of a Catholic service, which in my memory was based mostly on guilt and repentance and damnation unless you confessed, the service last night was about doing good things. Not because there was a Hell that you were trying to avoid, but doing them just to do them. That being righteous and seeking justice for all was more important than seeking forgiveness for nameless sins. I felt like I was at an orientation meeting for the Justice League, instead of a religous service.
It was also a ceremony about life. Even the prayers for lost loved ones were not prayers for the dead. One of the rabbis was quick to point this out. "This is not a prayer about death," he said, "instead, it is a prayer about the joy that our loved ones brought us. It's a prayer about life." That was really refreshing and moving. I so moved that I was compelled to raise my hand and call for a prayer for health for my Grandma, Ruth Farabee, who has been in and out of the hospital for awhile now. And I truly felt the whole of the community in the temple behind me as I did.
I'm not going to convert to Judaism any time soon (even though Joel pointed out that I looked more Jewish than he does). But I will come away with a better appreciation for not only their faith, but for faith in general. Going to temple last night showed me that I am not finished in my own personal journey to find what I believe. It's just nice to know that there are people out there to help me find my way.
Me and my shiksa
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