Moving on Gently

This Week's Quotation:

Two roads diverged in a wood,

and I— I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

—Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

Moving on Gently

 

Rev. Berry Behr, Interfaith Minister

I encountered someone full of joy at his newfound Christianity. He was pleased to have escaped what he regarded as the idol-worshipping religious lineage of his Hindu birth family. His family had rejected him for his decision; he counted the cost gladly.

I wanted to rejoice with him, yet I found myself touching grief. I felt sad for him at the loss of all that is good and beautiful in his family traditions; I felt sad for his parents. That gave me pause to consider my own path and the rejection of my own childhood religiosity. When I left my Christian church as a teenager, I told myself the system was “broken” and I had to find a new one.

Why do we so often feel compelled to describe our awakening by condemning the path that first taught us to wonder? Why must one tradition become light only because another is declared darkness? Why does conversion so often require the denial of a path already walked? This may be one of religion's oldest habits: drawing identity through contrast. We know who we are because we know who we are not.

Long before doctrines and denominations, human beings gathered around fire, stood in awe beneath the stars, listened to rivers, honored ancestors, sang, danced, wept, and gave thanks. They sought relationship—with the Earth, with one another, with the Mystery that gives life. Those experiences belong to no single religion. They are part of our common inheritance. Religion can deepen them through language, community, ethics, and wisdom. But when religion asks us to despise the very roots from which we grew, something precious is lost.

Primal spirituality whispers another possibility. What if we could honor each part of our story as part of the unfolding of who we are becoming? What if we could honor our ancestral paths—not as something primitive to be escaped— but as part of the Divine design that has brought each of us to this moment of awe and wonder and will continue to carry us home?

Now my heart sings. I can bless the Christian child I was, the young woman who needed to walk away, and every path that has opened before me since. Nothing need be despised nor erased. Perhaps moving on does not always require leaving behind. With love, it is possible that we can learn to move on gently.

About Open Windows

We, the authors of this blog, dedicate it to the transparent exploration of the world's sacred scripture and enlightened spiritual thought. We believe that the original inspiration of all faiths comes from a common source, named and revered in a myriad of ways. With that understanding, the innumerable symbols, beliefs, and practices of faith cease to divide. They become open windows to a common reality that inspires and unifies us. We find deeper insight and nourishment in our own faith and from the expression of faith from others.

We hope these weekly quotations and meditations speak to your heart and soul.