“Me and God”

10/24/2022

I consider myself Christian, at least in terms of applying its moral lessons. Though I am not a regular communicant, I have no argument with God. I marvel at the miracle of creation and of things that cannot be explained by science. I think of the soul and of man's ability to reason, and I think of the great difference between man and other animals - abilities to discern and infer, which seem impossible to ascribe solely to Darwin's theory of natural selection. I do not see God as something tangible. He is a spirit within each of us, who helps us to understand right from wrong. That gift is critical, for inside each of us, as well, lurks the capacity for evil. And sometimes evil wins the tug-of-war for our souls, as the world has seen (and is seeing) to its horror. We should acknowledge this tension and try to follow God's lead - toward compassion, love, respect, and tolerance.

FULL ARTICLE:

"We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.

God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows

in silence; see the stars, the moon, and the sun, how they move in silence...

We need silence to be able to touch souls.

Mother Teresa (1910-1997)

A Gift for God, 1975

Self-reflection is healthy, especially in this chaotic and secular world. I was Christened at the Eliot church in South Natick, Massachusetts, a Unitarian parish since 1870. It was the church of my father's family. I don't remember the year - I was not then taking notes - but I presume it was in the spring after I was born, the spring of 1941. My mother had attended Center Church in New Haven, a Congregational church, sitting in a pew, as she once wrote, "above my ancestors." As children, when we went to church, we attended the Unitarian church in Peterborough, New Hampshire.

My wife, influenced by Episcopal Bishop Walter H. Gray of Connecticut when at Westover School, had herself baptized in 1956, at St. George's by the River in Rumson, NJ, by the Reverend Canon George A. Robertshaw, the church where her parents had been married in 1931. Eight years later, we were married at the Church of Our Heavenly Rest in New York by the Reverend J. Burton Thomas. In 1976, with three young children all baptized as Episcopalians and with my accepting the divinity of Jesus, I was baptized and confirmed by the Reverend Richard Van Wely at Saint Barnabas in Greenwich. When our children were young, they attended Sunday school there and, later, became acolytes, and I joined the vestry.

While others, more knowledgeable than I, may disagree, in my opinion the principal purpose of religion is as a guide to a virtuous life. While life everlasting may not be in the cards, readings from the Bible are aimed at improving the way we conduct ourselves in this world.

There is much I do not know. Did God create Earth four billion years ago, or did He arrive when man first appeared two or three million years ago? I don't know. Not being familiar with other religions, I cannot compare them, but I wonder: do all religions report to one God? Perhaps God sent many disciples for different people in different parts of the world, at different times? Perhaps He sits above all religions? I don't know. Approximately three quarters of the world's population belong to one of the four largest religions, yet for most individuals, religion is a personal relationship with an omniscient and omnipresent God. I respect the moral code embedded in my Judeo-Christian heritage - the Ten Commandments of the Old Testament and the teachings of Jesus in the New. And I do believe that our natural rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness - no matter one's religion - are rights granted by God, not men.

War has always presented a conundrum for those who think about God. Why does He permit such waste of human lives? Is He testing our faith? I don't know. During the Civil War, when asked as to whether God was on his side, Abraham Lincoln responded: "...my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greater concern is to be on God's side; for God is always right." In the subsequent 160 years, man has become more technically advanced, more globalist, and wealthier. Sadly, though, war became more common. Writing in the New York Times on July 6, 2003, Chris Hedges noted that the 20th Century was the bloodiest on record, with 108 million war-time deaths, 70% which occurred in the two world wars. During the past half century, man has become less religious. There is an old saying that you find no Atheists in fox holes, but has material success made us less religious?

Among traits of our culture that alarm me are an increase in identity politics, which divides us, and virtue signaling, which substitutes for the real thing. Does wearing a mask while driving alone, placing a Pride flag in a school room, erecting a Black Lives Matter sign on one's lawn make one more virtuous, or are they public manifestations of one's moral superiority? Is it not better to privately practice the seven heavenly virtues without fanfare? Anticipating today's virtue signalers, the late Canadian American literary and cultural critic Isabel Paterson wrote in her 1943 book, The God of the Machines: "Most of the harm in the world is done by good people, and not by accident, lapse, or omission. It is the result of their deliberate actions, long persevered in, which they hold to be motivated by high ideals toward virtuous ends."

With questions, an absence of knowledge, and some doubts, am I agnostic? I don't think so. An agnostic is one who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence of God. I am not so confident. It is not that I can define God, but I feel His presence, especially when alone in nature or kneeling in a pew. This I know: He is within and about me, wherever I am. Will He lead me to salvation in the next world? I don't know. I believe God is not here to protect us against ourselves, or to prevent all harm and tragedy. I believe He is here to comfort us in times of need.

I understand what fourteen-year-old Anne Frank meant when, in the midst of war and hunted by Nazis, she confided in her diary: "The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely, or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be." "God," as Mother Teresa wrote in the rubric above, "is the friend of silence."

Sydney Williams

October 23, 2022