My Spirit Walk, Part Two: The Quiz

When we last left our heroine, she delving into the details of her spiritual awakening, assisted by the almighty Internet. The story continues....

I wish I could remember exactly what I typed into the search engine. I tend to frequent Ask.com, so I'm guessing it was somewhere along the lines of, "What religion am I? AND quiz." Whatever the case, it got me where I needed to go.

After weeding through results both bogus and goofy, I found a site called Beliefnet. It's actually a wealth of information on religions from all over the world: their beliefs, their rituals, and the issues pertinent to them. Somewhere on this site could be what I was looking for. I was psyched!

I browsed through and found the quiz I was looking for. Granted, the name of the exercise, "Belief-O-Matic," didn't exactly inspire oodles of confidence, but I had nothing to lose. I clicked on the link and set to work.

What followed was a 20-question quiz that I thought was actually pretty thorough and well executed. It was multiple choice, giving about six different answer choices for most questions. You choose your response based how to feel about the issue/belief in question.

About a third of the way into it, I was amazed. I was able to find answers to the questions that I actually agreed with. (Yes, I feel the same as answer C. Oh my goodness, I agree with choice D!) And if it's an option, that means that there's a religion out there that feels this way, believes this way. Someone also believes that the Old Testament is for guidance and morals, not the exact account of events. Someone else believes that all are already saved. Someone believes that being a member of a lesbian wedding party isn't a Hell-worthy trespass! Woo-HOO!!

The quiz was over, and I was pumped. I was sooo looking forward to seeing what faith I was matched up with. It was like waiting for my online dating profile on eHarmony to be finalized, except for the soul. The results were going to be listed in descending order of how well you matched with the religion. After each religion, a percentage would state exactly how much of your belief structure agreed with the religion tenets of that selection.

I could hardly wait for the page to load. Maybe I was more Catholic than I thought. Maybe I would find my home in the Methodist church, possibly United Church of Christ. Maybe Buddhism! I was ready to feel the warmth of knowledge spread over me, to feel some healing of sorts. I was finally going to have some direction, a place to start. The results came up, and I slowly scrolled down to see what topped my list:

1. Reform Judaism - 100%

I felt the earth move below me as my uber-Catholic Grandma Eckerle spun in her grave, kicking the top of the coffin on her way 'round to emphasize her displeasure.

Excuse me?! This wasn't what I was ready for. How...who...when...huh?!

I know very little about Judaism. I know it's deeply set in ritual and self-sacrifice (as in giving of yourself, not driving into a mall). I know it's not just a religion but a culture. I know Adam Sandler wrote a song about being one. That's all well and good. My head knows that all religions are the means to the same end: bringing one closer to spiritual wholeness. However, this boggled my mind and went straight to my heart.

I had somehow traveled from the Ultimate Church of Christian Guilt to disbelieving the holy lineage of Jesus Christ. He had been transported in my mind's eye from rank of "Savior" to somewhere between "Good Guy with Really Bad Timing" and "Blasphemous Schmuck." Had I really turned away from my upbringing to that extreme?

Searching for some solace, I looked down my list. My next best matches were Liberal Quaker (oxymoron?), Unitarian Universalist (sounds...big), and Baha'i (umm, what?). This was a little more than I had bargained for. I may be a little too out there, I felt. A little too far from the status quo. I scrolled down the list searching for Roman Catholicism, and I finally found it at the very end, #27. My match was 20%. Maybe I hadn't just hacked off the bud of the plant but killed my roots as well.

Before I tried to figure out where the heck I could go to Temple in southern Indiana, I did some reading on my "new" religion. I was in for a few surprises.

My Spirit Walk, Part One: Some History

Part of the aforementioned inner journey has been trying to figure out where I fall on the religious spectrum. For those of you who have never been privy to the Jasper experience, I was raised as a Catholic. Oh, so Catholic. Knew the sacraments, the saints, prayed the Rosary, memorized the Hail Mary and Apostle's Creed for religion class. I can stand and sit and kneel in unison with others on cue, which actually may have been great for my dance and theater training. A group of gals in my class and I all wanted to go to Marian Heights Academy (a former area Catholic high school) and talked about it almost daily. They changed their minds later when they realized that there would be no boys at the school. I changed my mind because they didn't have a color guard. Priorities, you know.

I drifted away from my Catholic roots in high school, veering off into a distinct agnostic oblivion for a time. I veered even further off the path in college until an intrepid soul named Katey decided that I needed some religious grounding. I explained to her that my background with Catholicism made me hesitant to get involved with God-driven hoopla of any sort, so she handled me gingerly and introduced me to Christianity that didn't involve a guy in a white robe with a tall, pointy hat.

My public spiritual practice waxed and waned during college. As is most things with me, I kept it close to my heart but did not share it very freely, rarely going to services (not "mass," which I still call it regardless of what church I visit) but continuing to read the Bible (which, oddly enough, we didn't do in my Catholic schooling) and studying the message of the Word. I also developed an interest in other religions: how they practice, how/who they worshiped, how the people who believe relate to the world around them.

Recently, I decided that part of my broken self that needed fixing was my spiritual identity. I was tired of floating and needed an anchor. So, I began putting together what I had learned, focusing on what my "true self" believes, and trying new religions on for size. It was a crapshoot, really. Very little direction. Then, I found an online spiritual quiz that actually held some clout from a reliable spiritual network not associated with any one religion. No one was going to contact me or recruit me or try to help me "become clear." The information was just for my knowledge, my comfort.

And that's where Part 2 will start. It was interesting.

Introspection is a lot like spelunking

It's been about a month since my last counseling appointment, so I had a lot to talk about last night. One of the issues on my mind is that it seems that my path to my authentic self is taking a VERY long time, and the road is extremely rocky, causing me to stumble a lot. Every time I break through an obstacle, two pop up in its place. Isn't the whole point of being your "true self" finding what is already there? Should this much digging be required?

Apparently, I spent a lot of time during my youth perfecting the people-pleasing techniques of my direct bloodline. As those of you who know me well can attest, when I do something, I do something - and damn, did I do it well. However, there's progress. It looks like I've excavated a good portion of the crap (who I thought others wanted me to be, who I thought I was going to be in my childhood, et cetera), and I'm now looking at the unearthed entrance to a deep-looking, very dark cave with a chilly wind exuding from it's opening. I'm listening for a bear snoring and hoping that I won't meet Darth Vader somewhere inside there.

As my counselor said last night, I'm more introspective than most. For some reason, I chose not to be one of the millions of people who go through their lives just dwelling on their surface of self; I'm striving to be the best version of me that I can be. Those are her words; I think I'm just asking for trouble, and since I have no outer drama in my life, I have to create some of my own. But, in my heart, I know she's struck closer to the truth. Damn my old soul. It just won't let me remain young and stupid.

So, I've done months and months and MONTHS of digging, and now it's time to strap on the hardhat with a light on the front and gingerly step onto the wet earth, hoping that the tunnel is not going to collapse on me when I'm somewhere in the middle. I'm not sure I'm going to like what I find inside, but I must remember: My weapons, I will not need them.