Why God why?

May 22, 2012 at 2:49 PM (Uncategorized)
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Since I was in Kindergarten to the moment of my confirmation, I was attending catechism on Monday evenings.  Learning stories from the bible, but not actually learning much about anything when it comes to faith and what you believe.  I was always fascinated by stories, but after a couple of years the classes became more of a punishment than anything.  It was like an extra hour of school every week only you didn’t feel like you learned anything.

Like school, they had parent teacher conferences.  Only in a group setting, with videos and stuff.  My mom talked to me about it once.  They showed her this video about this kid.  I couldn’t tell you the details, but long story short this child was hit by a semi-truck completely out of the blue.  My mom told me that she stayed back after all the parents left and asked the educator (a nun? a parishoner? a volunteer?) about the point of it all–why it had to be like that.  She had a dilemma: if God is all-powerful and all-good, where was God in that accident?  If God was all-good, he would’ve wanted to stop that accident but couldn’t.  If God is all-powerful, clearly he could’ve stopped that accident but chose not to.  The two key facets were in direct opposition.  She asked me what I thought.  After some thinking,  I figured that maybe God chose not to intervene because we have free will.  That that truck driver had a choice and chose poorly and although God could’ve forced him to change, then it would’ve been meaningless.  It made sense to my 8 year-old brain.  That idea stuck with me though.  God is present and leaves the actions of man to man and will do as much as he can to influence those changes but is ultimately not responsible.  I forgot about this conversation until recently when I had to ask “Where is God in all this?”

On March 23, my older brother, Jack, was in a car accident.  He was close to home, driving a route he knew very well at 1 in the morning in a deserted neighborhood.  We don’t know why it happened–if he had fallen asleep, or he was texting, or an animal ran out in front of him–but his car went off the road. He was going too fast.  His car hit the curb and went airborne, missing a tree, hitting a fire hydrant which spiraled the car into another tree.  That tree hit the driver’s side directly and the impact turned my brother’s brain into scrambled eggs.   He was rushed to hospital and put in intensive care.  I was at school 3 hours away when I got the call.  When I finally got there, after hours of praying while some one else drove, I got to the hospital.  A few hours later, he was declared brain-dead. He was still warm, still technically alive, heck, he even had some reflexive movement.  If he was kept on life support, he would live. But what they told us is that even if he woke up, a miracle in of itself, he wouldn’t be himself.  The impact totaled the part of the brain that controls personality and memory. He would never be able to speak again.   He would never be Jack again. And although my brother’s heart stopped on the 24th at 8am, he was dead long before that.

Why was my older brother dead at 22?  Why was dead now  just as things were looking the brightest they had ever been?  He had a serious girlfriend, he had returned to college and was enjoying his classes.  He was the happiest that anyone had ever seen him. And all of a sudden…poof.

The question kept coming back, “Where was God, and why did he see it fit to steal my brother from me?”  It’s all well and good to talk about the freedom of choice and that God can only do so much, but it’s not comforting to someone who suddenly lost a young relative.  What fatal choice did my brother make?  What could he have done differently?  This mentality puts the blame on the victim, on the other people and family.  It’s a cruel rationale and it didn’t make me feel better.  I heard some people said that “God needed a new angel”, but that’s not comforting at all.  If God needed a new angel, why did it have to be my brother?  If God needed a new angel and he took my brother for his own purposes, that almost makes him a monster.  It hurts to think that God needed my brother to die for his great big cosmic plan.  Maybe there is no reason. Maybe there is no great big cosmic force that leads us to be the best we can be.  Maybe we are, in fact, alone and God has simply let the world go to seed.

But I realize now where God was, even if I don’t know why.

God was there when the car crashed and somebody heard and called 911. He was there at the hospital when they got him stabilized.  He was in the waiting room–there must have been 20 people, not including my family, there for my brother.  The nurses, the Gift of Life people, the folks at the wake, the funeral.  God was there. And though I didn’t recognize it then, I see it now.  There was a purpose to my brother’s death.  When Jack donated his organs, he spread life.  His liver saved a 14 year old boy from death–that boy would’ve died if Jack had lived.  His kidneys went to a young woman and an older man.  His corneas gave another person sight.  His bone marrow will help treat little kids.  My brother’s life is being given to people we haven’t met.  Maybe that was his purpose.

I still miss him.  I still wish that he wasn’t dead.  I’d give up anything to have him back. And although I’m going through a difficult time with my faith right now and trying to reestablish what it is I believe in, there is some comfort in knowing that my brother’s organs make a difference.

God is somewhere. My brother is there too.

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What are you to me?

October 24, 2011 at 8:47 PM (Uncategorized)

Because I am a lazy bum who cannot be bothered to write more than one post, I was taking a look at Facebook.  In particular, I stumbled across a friend of mine from high school.  We had been involved in a number of plays, and although we were both Catholic, she was much more involved in faith activities than me.  In fact, I know a lot more  people who are involved in the faith community–whether it be in prayer circles or mission trips or what have you–than me.  But what struck me on Facebook was a post from this old friend:

“amazing how when you’re in the right relationship with Jesus, he speaks to you all throughout the day. nice little spiritual check up… have you heard anything from Jesus lately?”

Here is where I roll my eyes.  Statements like this make me gag a little bit.  Anytime you mention “Jesus” in a conversation as anything but an expletive is just asking for derision.  But it’s a serious question for me once I get past the initial reaction: have I heard anything from God lately?

Well, if I’m going to be honest, the answer is no. I haven’t really heard much at all.  I suppose I think of prayer as recording a message on an answering machine–I talk about what I’m facing, whine about the world, ask for a little help and guidance, confess my guilt and confusion and then hang up.  A reply would be nice every now and  again, but it’s never in a way that you notice unless you’re actively looking for it.  Who honestly looks at something and declares “this must be God’s work”? And as much as the church promotes communication with God, insisting that you have a deep and personal connection to Christ, I still feel really remote.  I could ask for intervention from a saint of some sort, but I don’t have a strong connection with any of them either.

Which begs the question, what is my relationship with God?

I’m not sure what kind of relationship a Pagan has with his or her divinity.  But I realize now that I treat God as a therapist.  I rendezvous with him in Church on Sunday, sing songs and chat about problems, listen to what the message is, and leave. See you next week at the appointed time for the next hourly session.  If I pray during the week, I say a nightly prayer or a prayer of thanks before meals–the same prayers I’ve said since my childhood.  Lately I don’t even bother.  Most times I feel alone in the universe, and I feel like the most God can do is listen to my worries so I can let them go and go on with my life.

But as much as I feel alone, there are instances when I feel truly blessed by God.  I have an amazing friend who never lets me down, and lets me know that I am a wonderful person.  I have a little brother who loves me and misses me when I am at college.  I have an older brother who was distant, and has since rejoined our family in an active role.   My parents are amazing, and they pushed me–and because of that, I got a really good internship.  I have close friends who support me, friends who I am lucky to have.  Friends who I have met through coincidence, and who have–occasionally–shaped me to be a better and kinder person.

So maybe God is not my therapist, or my genie, or my guru.  It doesn’t mean that he’s not there.  Maybe I am a tree, supported by roots of friends and family, nourished by invisible nutrients and an underground aquifer–the source of all life.

Oh wow, that sounds cheezy. But it’s honest.  And sometimes the things that make you roll your eyes are the truest sentiments you can ask for.

-Nadia

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The Highway

October 1, 2011 at 10:42 PM (Introductory)
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I don’t know how to really start my first post off.  I’m not really the kind of person to get wrapped up in heavy spiritual stuff.  I suppose I’m fairly grounded in fact,  and I’m the one who likes to argue doctrine.

So with that in mind, I’ll start off with the big facts.  I’m a Humanities major. I’m very familiar with Greco-Roman and Norse mythology, and somewhat knowledgeable about Egyptian and Japanese. I believe that there are certain similarities in myth and folklore that must result from some shared experience. I also know that I know so little about people to assume that I can just explain every similarity with a basic blanket statement.

Also, I’m a practicing Roman Catholic. Thought I’d throw that out there.

So I guess this makes me more of an observer.  I’m on a different path than Crimsette, Cami or Lumaria.  Actually, maybe it’s more of a highway and we’re all in our cars with different maps.  I’m taking a well traveled route–one that my parents and grandparents and siblings are all on. I’m going to see certain landmarks, take my photos of the biggest ball of Twine, and stay in the hotels that my travel guide say I ought to stay at. If I follow these instructions, surely I’ll get to where I’m going.

But this doesn’t mean that I can just roll down my window on the freeway and yell at Crimsette not to take the next exit or she’ll wind up on the route that goes past crack-shack motels that lead to some abandoned zombie-infested playground instead of Disney World. Chances are she has another map–maybe more scenic, maybe quicker, maybe more exciting–than my own. Nor can I in good faith force her to divert from her chosen path if I can see not clear and present danger.

Religion and faith are private matters. There is no prize for the person who yells the loudest “I LOVE GOD”.  There is no cosmic pat-on-the-back for attacking another human being.  Love–of God and of my neighbor–come first before any ritual or law.  If we act on love, surely we cannot be reprimanded.

If a driver on the highway of life asks me for directions, I’ll gladly give it. But I’m not going to force my beliefs down anyone’s throat.

So I suppose that my role here is an outsider looking at a  map that I can only do my best to understand. And while I’m likely to stick to the plan I’ve always had, to see another route is enlightening.

~Nadia

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