zombies and questions, or a look back on 2011

When I moved to Annapolis, I didn't have any friends, except my brother and sister-in-law, and I had many questions about the Christian faith, specifically, how it plays out in church: "Has the Church failed mankind, or has mankind failed the Church?" wrote T.S. Eliot. I admit that much of my thought is consumed by religious questions -- often to the point of tears, exhaustion, and anxiety. I think about these questions too much. To me they are a matter of life and death, so how can I not ask, in the words of Russell Kirk, "terrifying questions"? I cannot not ask these questions.

So Stephen told me about an RCIA class at his church. I met with the RCIA director and told her of my questions and concerns. Tears galore. She made the sign of the cross on my forehead, hugged me, and told me not to be afraid. I was met with much grace. She assigned me a Catholic sponsor in the beginning of September. My sponsor had plans to become a nun when she was around my age, but she never completed her vows and felt called in another direction. We meet for dinner almost weekly, and she has become a sort of mentor and counselor to me. She listens, counsels, advises, and gives her opinion, which I often disagree with, actually. But she's there, present, and cares.

On September 13th, I started my first RCIA class. I was in a fragile state: I had just moved to a city where mutts are never seen (pure-bred dogs only, please) and where Target has a parking garage (a very foreign concept to me). No teaching job. A messy break-up. Unprocessed experiences from my year in Alaska. Physical problems (which after several blood tests and doctor appointments has turned out to be a diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis).

But on September 13th, I met seven very interesting people who were completely different than me. In my RCIA class, diversity of experiences, backgrounds, and beliefs came together to form a small little community. In this community, I met: a Jewish man who had been attending mass for ten years with his Catholic wife and who finally wanted to learn about becoming a Christian; a Mormon woman who is marrying a Catholic man (who, after beginning these classes, has found out that there is so much more to faith and her relationship with God); an evangelical couple who are recovering alcoholics and feel as much anxiety over church questions as I do; a woman who was non-religious, had just finished chemotherapy for breast cancer (her hair is growing back now), and was feeling "a little lost" until her sister-in-law invited her to church; a man who is dating a devout Catholic, is frustrated with southern fire-and-brimstone preaching, and looking for something deeper; and finally, a Russian woman who was raised as an atheist in the Soviet era and is married to a Catholic man.

Such a diverse group we are, and I love the discussions we have in RCIA. Everyone has their own experiences, fears, and longings. Nobody is judged for what they know, don't know, believe, or don't believe.


One time after mass, the Jewish guy in my RCIA class told me about this scene in a Woody Allen movie, and for some reason I found it really comforting. "I don't know know why there were Nazis. I don't even know how the can opener works!"

But RCIA has its stresses. It leads to more questions. For some it provides answers. For me it just makes me ask more questions. Sometimes I feel like I am the most conservative Christian in the group. Sometimes I wonder if what I just heard was total heresy. Sometimes I want to throw in the towel. Sometimes I'm amazed at the beauty and complexity of God's Kingdom. Sometimes I leave in tears, wondering why God wasn't a little more clear when He established His church. This past Tuesday was rough, but the married couple in my class hugged me and told me that everything was going to be okay.

I talk a lot to the mom of the family I nanny for. She and her family are Unitarian Universalists, and we have good conversations about faith and spirituality. She is a questioner too. She's said on numerous occasions, "Meredith, you would just fit in so well at our church with your questions... except that you'd totally be freaked out," which makes me smile when I think about that. I have questions, but I think what underlines my questions is the belief that there is an objective truth out there, and I have to get it. I don't think I'll find objective truth in the Unitarian Universalist church.

These questions can be very isolating. When I visit the Presbyterian church, no one seems to be concerned about the lack of unity in the Christian world. When Jesus prayed "that all of them may be one," was He just thinking wishfully? I hope not.

My friend Autumn and I talk about these questions. We met at the Orthodox church back home a couple of years ago, and she has been such a support me in my questions. She shares in them. She bears these questions as well. She is torn between Catholicism and Orthodoxy and her love for her Protestant upbringing. These questions are painful to bear. I say "bear" because these questions are a burden.

So sometimes I take a break. Yesterday was a feast day in the Catholic church, and I did not go to mass. I couldn't. Some days I just can't deal with my questions. And instead, I watched "The Walking Dead." And yes, it's about zombies. And no, I don't (normally) like zombie stuff. But sometimes I have to think about something that is just completely out of the realm of religious questions, and zombies seems like a pretty good fit. Although, the zombies do make me question... What is a soul? Can a human be human without a soul? Why does mankind want to survive? For what purpose do we want to survive? So, I guess I can't escape questions...even in post-apocalyptic zombie TV shows.

I know that a person's twenties is considered to be a "time of questioning." I think that's silly. People should be questioning throughout their lives, don't you think? Of course, they should arrive at answers and find peace in them, but a person shouldn't stop.

This year has been crazy. Absolutely crazy. I'm glad it's coming to an end to be honest. New beginnings in Alaska for me. I am going to be teaching 8th grade Language Arts in Barrow, Alaska, in January. I'm excited, but I'm also scared out of my mind. Barrow is the northernmost town in the U.S. Freakin' cold. I'm going to get a parka that's made for Antarctica expeditions. There are a lot of unknowns in moving to Barrow, but I think it's worth it. I'm working on my St. John's application, and I hope to work towards my master's at the Annapolis campus in the summers. That place is full of fellow questioners. I'm excited to meet them.

Ever since reading Russell Kirk's Eliot and His Age, I've been thinking about Eliot and his questions. He was a questioner. A tormented one, who found peace eventually in the Christian faith. That's the good news. The happy ending. Lately, I've been reading T.S. Eliot's "Choruses from 'The Rock'" over and over. I can't seem to get enough of that poem. If you haven't read it, check it out here.

There is a line that I like:

"And the wind shall say: 'Here were decent godless people:
Their only monument the asphalt road
And a thousand lost golf balls.'"

I don't want to be a decent godless person. I want something more. Truth, authenticity, and commitment.

And another section:

"Then it seemed as if men must proceed from light to light,
in the light of the word,
Through the Passion and Sacrifice saved in spite of their negative being;
Bestial as always before, carnal, self-seeking as always before,
selfish and purblind as ever before,
Yet always struggling, always reaffirming,
always resuming their march on the way that was lit by the light;
Often halting, loitering, straying, delaying, returning, yet following no other way."

I am often halting, loitering, straying, delaying, returning. I can't follow any other way, even though sometimes I am tempted to. When I doubt, I am reminded of when Jesus said to the twelve disciples, "Do you want to go away as well?" And, Peter said, "Lord, to whom shall we go?"

There isn't any other way to go, even if I have questions.