To Awaken from the Illusion
I lost my faith at a young age. I was so young, in fact, that Iʼm not even sure thereʼs a specific memory I can tie into my falling out with Christ (I was raised conservative Roman Catholic.) What I did not lose, however, was a belief in heaven and hell. To this day, Iʼm still not sure Iʼve completely erased the idea that these polar extremes might both exist.
I recently completed a two month backpacking trip through Europe. A lot of friends and family asked me “Why now?” as I was preparing for the trip. I didnʼt have a specific answer for them at the time (other than the fact that I had a professional break during that period), but I think deep down I knew I was making the trip because I was afraid: if I didnʼt do it soon, my real world commitments might keep me from ever making the leap. Iʼm much better at remaining in stasis rather than trying to shake up the general order of things. I always have been.
I was also looking for an answer to a question I wasnʼt even sure I had finished forming yet. The question had to do with life/death, belief/faith, heaven/hell and itʼd been percolating in me ever since I began coming out three years prior. So I knew it was tied to some of my (still) repressed feelings about being homosexual. But I knew I wasnʼt going to be able to form the question (let alone answer it) in Los Angeles. Or the United States. I needed to get out of my surroundings and delve into a new culture. I needed to pretend I wasnʼt myself for a while.
One of the best things about traveling solo is that, with each new person you meet, you can selectively reveal what you want to unveil about yourself. I never boldfaced lied to anyone new that I met, but kept certain truths closer to my chest at the beginning of my travels. I had a particularly difficult time deciding when (and if) to come out to some of the new friends I was making. Did these fellow backpackers care to know my sexual preferences? Would they be turned off by this aspect of myself? Had they already seen through my fake machismo and would my announcement be met with nothing more than a cocked head and a “duh”? I never knew. It kind of made the few times I did come out even more special in a way.
One of the first people I did come out to I met in the tiny, old city of York, England. At one time a Roman outpost, the city boasts a fascinating and eclectic mix of architecture. I was strolling through the nearly empty streets on a cold, cold November day when it started raining; I catapulted myself into the nearest store — a Christian book store. I chuckled as I realized where I had ended up. As I perused the book spines in the back of the store, I ran into an attractive, lithe twenty-something. He actually looked younger and after our initially odd interaction (he was over age. phew.) I invited him to come grab a cup of coffee with me. The boy, letʼs call him Jake, agreed and he took me to a coffee shop hidden inside one of the original Roman walls built to fortify the city. Uh… awesome.
The topic of conversation began, unsurprisingly, as a discussion of faith. Samʼs father had been a pastor and Sam was just beginning to practice again. He had a crisis himself in his teen years, but recently decided that he was more interested in following in his fatherʼs footsteps and continuing to believe. He presented me with some extremely well articulated thoughts on why he had returned to his childhood faith. I wonʼt pretend to speak of them as eloquently as Jake did — but they were convincing!
Itʼs not as if this interaction convinced me “REPENT! BELIEVE NOW, O SINNER!” but, yʼknow, it was food for thought. And Jake, cute as a button, insisted that I let him buy a book for me to read entitled “The Reason For God” by Timothy Keller. So I let him do it. What was the harm.
Another twenty days into the trip, I was relaxing in the common room of a Berlin hostel and had just finished my own book list. Having nothing left to read but this Timothy Keller book, I decided to crack it open. It was gone! I had taken it out the night before and placed it in my unlocked locker overnight… when I awoke, vanished! A couple had left very early that morning and I eventually surmised that either the girl or boy had presumed it was one of the othersʼ book. But now I had my own finger out, pointing upward, declaring some type of higher power. Clearly… I was not meant to read this book.
Lo and behold, life has a funny way of working out. Just as I was begining to think — well, clearly belief isnʼt for me… I consider taking a stab at it and the almighty rips the text right out of my hands! — BAM! Something crazy happens. And the crazy was running into Jake, on my last night in Europe, at an underground station in London. It was Jakeʼs first time in London (he was visiting from York) and it was the last time I would ride the Underground during my entire trip. And there he was, right in front of me, hugging me, asking me about my trip, asking me about the book… and I had to tell him that the book had been stolen. Jake looked me in the face, smiled, and said: “Well, I suppose faith does work in mysterious ways.” Indeed, I attest, it does.
Institutions will never be something I can attach myself to when it comes to belief — once an institution has convinced you of one evil, itʼs too simple for them to brainwash you into believing there are invisible evils all around you. And as for Eastern religions, I just donʼt think I, personally, have the patience to redevout myself to a practice with such abandon after I was so permanently stained.
Humanism, however, or the belief that the whole of humanity can work together to solve global problems as a collective, united front? Itʼs something I truly came to believe in during the course of my travels. Someone like Jake made it all the more apparent that weʼre brought to this Earth for a reason and we find each other for a reason. Iʼm not suggesting that Jakeʼs introduction to my life changed my overall perception of how the world operates. Jake merely opened my eyes a little wider. Because the more we choose to listen, learn, and take heed of those whose opinions, beliefs, and faiths we donʼt necessarily believe in ourselves — the more we began to salvage our worldʼs tapestry. A universal tapestry which deep down, we all know, was perfectly woven from the start. And that, I hope, is something that one day all of humanity can truly believe in.
“We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness” — Thích Nhất Hạnh
