What am I?
The article of Asuncion David Maramba, “Spiritual but not religious” (Opinion, 4/26/13), set me to thinking about what I am.
My mother was a devout Roman Catholic. Like most women of her time she spent a good part of the day in prayer. Like the other women born and bred at the tail-end of the Spanish era that introduced Catholicism to the country, my mother and my father’s sisters considered their religion the center and most important part of their lives. It was early-morning Mass to start the day, the Angelus at noon and at 6 p.m., recitation of the rosary before bedtime, and long novenas to honor saints particular to the day of the week. The rosary was often worn around the neck or wrist to make it easily available in cases of emergency like floods or lightning bolts, or even the possibility of a car accident while on a long trip to the province.
My father, who was a scientist, was into a spiritual odyssey for at the time science and religion were still at odds. Because Easter was the season designated by the Church as the final time of the year for Catholics to fulfill their yearly obligation of seeking forgiveness for their sins, my aunts would call to urge my mother to drag my father to a confessional lest he die without the benefit of the sacrament of penance and, thus, end up in hell.
As a consequence of this rabid dedication to the teachings of the Church, my siblings and I were sent to prestigious Catholic schools where we were placed under the tutelage of priests and nuns. We were required to memorize the 10 commandments of God, the five commandments of the Church, the seven deadly sins, the seven sacraments of the Church, and various prayers for different occasions. Up to now I am able to recite all of them from memory—the cadence, intonation and sounds still familiar to my ears for they were verbalized in a manner similar to reciting one of Hamlet’s soliloquies. In retrospect it was more of an exercise in rote religion for the efforts expended in the process of memorization and the focus on how they should be expressed somehow stripped them of their deeper meanings.
The existence of Satan and his kingdom of fire that was called hell was impressed on us when our minds were vulnerable and ripe for the seed of fear to take hold and flourish. Although we were taught that God loved his people and died on the cross for their salvation, he was nevertheless also a formidable God who condemned to a fiery life in Satan’s kingdom those guilty of committing deadly acts called mortal sins and who died without the benefit of confessing their sins to a priest. Hell was eternal, with no chance of parole or commutation of a sentence—an implication of an unforgiving god.
Venial sins were minor sins that could be cleansed after death in a halfway house called Purgatory, where one must serve one’s term before admission into the kingdom of God. Attached to acts of piety, special prayers and even monetary contributions were bonuses called indulgences. The faithful accumulated indulgences because these could be traded for temporal forgiveness of venial sins or as offerings for the remission of the souls in Purgatory.
The seven deadly sins were pride, avarice or greed, lust, anger, gluttony, envy and sloth. If this list and its consequences still hold today as an ecclesiastical decree, we would all be, in principle, sharing eternity in a cosmic sea of fire together with the members of the Vatican down to the bishops and the rest of the clergy.
The fear of God was a device envisioned by the Church to keep children within specific boundaries. It was effective. I distinctly remember moments in my childhood when I would stay awake nights weeping into my pillow because I was afraid I would end up in eternal flames without any hope of salvation. Our catechism booklets had vivid pictures of hell that showed lost souls in agony while Satan and his cohorts gleefully poked them with pitchforks. The very detailed icons intensified our “fear and trembling.”
Indeed, it was effective. Issuing decrees with no less than God as the legislator is a very powerful tool, especially when imposed on juvenile minds still in the early stages of their development. For some the effect is forever, carried into adulthood and beyond. Fortunately, for many the incredibility eventually became obvious, so that they were driven to seek a new kind of religion or practice that would somehow deepen their experience of God.
We are at a very crucial point in our history. Perhaps what is required is the training of more efficient teachers as well as priests and nuns to meet the demands of a new era that is evolving. Priests and nuns must keep in tune with evolution if they are to become efficient bearers of the good news. They must never allow themselves to become stagnant in a routine that inhibits growth so that they are left behind by a movement forward that appears to be accelerating. They must remember that on their initiative lies the great responsibility of forming the delicate and vulnerable young minds of present as well as future generations, whose capability will, in turn, determine the fate of humanity.
In midlife I ventured into my own spiritual journey for I had lost contact with a god who had outlived his relevance to my life. I wanted something more compatible with a God of love, for I believe that love is the ultimate answer to everything. What I received from my spiritual mentors was a religion for immature minds meant to keep them so forever if possible, so that the shepherd could tend to his sheep under more manageable conditions. Instilling fear is an efficient weapon, and unless one sheds this terrible feeling, one becomes a captive forever.
So I ask again: What am I at this point in my life? The Internet has made available to me various reading materials of interest relating to religion, God and the cosmos, some featuring opposing opinions as well as contradicting historical data that have contributed to my present state of confusion. There are moments when I believe in a god and moments when I don’t, moments when I think religion is necessary and moments when I don’t. I even asked a priest once, “Is it really necessary to believe in a god?” I couldn’t get past the look of shock on his face.
But I am okay for my God of love understands and sympathizes and perhaps is even somewhat amused. However, out of a feeling of curiosity, in what category do I fit in? Mrs. Maramba mentions several—adapter, freethinker, spiritual seeker, agnostic, atheist, or none in particular. You tell me. Perhaps an unbelieving believer?
Carmelita Roxas Natividad describes herself as a retired mother and active grandmother who likes to write, garden, and bake, in that order.
