(Originally appeared in Sense and Psychotherapy, Fall 1999)
As my son has grown more aware of, and more curious about, the world around him, his questions have acquired a naive complexity that has led us to some very interesting discussions about the nature of religious beliefs and spirituality. While I’m surprised and pleased by his inquisitiveness, and curious about where the questions come from, I’m also quite often left searching for answers.
Sometimes, just when I think I have a nice simple reply to satisfy his six-year-old curiosity, I find us traveling down paths I have no clue how to navigate. I find myself fumbling, searching for explanations to issues I haven’t thought about for years, and may never have been clear about in the first place. I often ponder our discussions for a long time afterward, not just hoping I gave him satisfying answers, but re-examining the questions myself.
His queries often renew my own struggles with religion and spirituality. At times I long for a simple, straightforward “answer”. I imagine how much easier Life would be if I possessed a set of undeniable truths. As a child I was raised to believe in a particular faith, and it supplied me with a set of answers which satisfied me at the time. Yet, during my adolescence, I began to have doubts, and I’ve never been able to regain that sense of childlike clarity. At this point, I’m not sure that I ever will.
When I look around at the different religions in the world, I tend to focus more on their similarities than their differences. At their common core, I see a deep, all-encompassing belief in a higher power, a larger than life truth. Hand in hand with instructions on how believers are to worship their deity(ies), are teachings on how to treat others. Although they may word it differently, most religions seem to celebrate love, respect, and some variation on the Golden Rule.
I’ve been forced to look deep inside myself for what is true to me. What are my core beliefs? What do I want to pass on to my son? I know that I want him to have the freedom to form his own beliefs, to pursue his own spiritual path, and to have respect and tolerance for those whose beliefs differ from his own. I can honestly tell him I don’t know what God looks like, what he eats, or even if God is a HE. I will encourage him to read, to question, to struggle with the paradoxes, and to remain open to new ways of examining his own faith and respecting those of the people around him.
I think that what I need to do with my son is not just acknowledge that I don’t have all the answers for him, but also accept that its OK, and even spiritually enriching, to wrestle with issues of this sort. What we learn about ourselves and the world around us as we ask these questions is an important part of the journey. When I think about it this way, I feel excitement and anticipation, rather than dread, at the next set of questions he’ll come up with.
