Being a young adult of ardent faith comes with its own set of challenges, especially in today’s society. It’s no understatement to say that being a young adult practicing any religion is counter-cultural simply because it’s true: the majority of my peer group does not have a well-developed spiritual formation, if any at all.
And because we practicing young adults are going against popular culture, our own lives can become quite confusing from time to time. We are still humans living in the day-to-day world. We are still faced with the same challenges, ordeals, and events that everyone else encounters – but we have faith. And while faith is on the whole an incredibly reliable compass, when the expectations of faith clash with the expectations of popular culture we do get thrown off-course. It’s especially hard to live and express faith openly when popular culture perpetuates religion-based stereotypes, particularly the ones wherein anyone who is an ardent believer and faithful follower is portrayed as an uncontrollable, unlikable zealot out to convert the entire world by force.
Uniting uncommon faith with popular society is a tricky business. It’s hard for those of us who have it to understand it, so believe me when I say that I get that the non-believer has a hard time understanding it too. I’m a practicing Roman Catholic who had a crisis of faith in late adolescence and young adulthood, so really: I understand both sides of the story. And I do need to point out that the world through the eyes of faith is not necessarily black-and-white. There are many shades of grey on all subjects of morality – and those spaces in between the extremes of what is blatantly wrong and what is infallibly right are where our faith is truly tested.
I’m still figuring out my faith and who I am as a daughter of God. I’ll probably spend a great deal of the rest of my life trying to figure it out. But in the twenty-four years that I have lived, loved, lost, and regained my faith, I have come to understand a little better three key aspects of my belief system.
Let me be clear that my intention here is not to preach on these three points, but rather to share how I have come to understand them – and for a few reasons. First, not every religion names the Bible, either in entirety or in part, as its holy scripture. Second, there are several versions of the Bible and the way I know the Word of God is not necessarily the way others would know it. Third, the written word – even as it pertains to faith and religion – is always subject to human interpretation, and therefore can be read in many different ways even among those who know the same version of the Bible. (See what I meant when I said it’s not all black-and-white?)
But there are common threads among all kinds of faith, and maybe if you’re a young man or young woman of a faith different to mine you’ll see those threads of my spiritual life intertwining with yours.
“Love the sinner, hate the sin,” is not carte-blanche for you to do whatever you want and think you’ll get off scott-free. Catholics have this thing called Confession. Otherwise known as the Sacrament of Reconciliation, it’s hinged upon the belief and teaching that no matter how grave the transgression, the sinner is still worthy of love and forgiveness. (Actually, it’s what the entire religion is hinged upon. After all, the Incarnation of Jesus Christ as a means of salvation for all of humanity is pretty much how this all started.) And this is pretty good. It means we can be human and make mistakes, but we have a chance to start anew and head back into the world with a stronger resolve.
It’s a component of Catholicism that is so integral and intrinsic to the entire belief system that sometimes it becomes a loophole or a crutch. Personally, I have lost track of the number of times I have said to myself, “I can do whatever I want, because as long as I go to Confession I’ll be alright. But that’s not entirely true. “Confession is a covenant, and requires conviction to keep us from condemnation,” as my father once told me (how’s that for a Catholic tongue-twister?), and as such, it can’t be taken as a “get out of jail free” card that we can whip out every time we’re faced with a moral quandary.
But in terms of the world outside the confessional, loving the sinner and hating the sin goes beyond one’s own personal relationship with God. As I’ve grown in my faith and in my limited understanding thereof, I’ve come to realise that the concept applies to my real-world relationships and that in these circumstances it applies in both directions. To love the sinner and hate the sin is to “forgive those who trespass against us” and to do it with faith so that we may see the inherent good in others and help them overcome the challenges presented by their own weaknesses and shortcomings. It is to remind us to forgive without losing accountability – either to ourselves or to others – and to forgive with conviction so as to strengthen ourselves and others.
“Let those without sin cast the first stone,” is not an invitation towards passivity or inaction. Spiritual lukewarmness has its own Gospel passage wherein it is struck down and criticized – and rightly so. Faith requires conviction – not just when it comes to asking for forgiveness and forgiving others, but rather in every single one of its components.
Only God has the power to judge and condemn, but once again this isn’t an excuse to do whatever the heck we want and think we can get away with it. This is yet another situation wherein accountability to oneself is intertwined with one’s accountability to others. Refraining from casting the first stone does not mean remaining an uninvolved bystander. Yes, we should make a conscious effort to avoid passing judgment (especially when we know little or nothing about the situation), but we should not avoid the opportunity presented to us in these circumstances to help another person grow positively.
Whether or not another person in my life shares my faith and even whether or not they believe in anything at all should not dictate how I choose to live my faith within that relationship. I believe that I am held accountable not only for my actions but for my inaction as well. It is not enough to merely refrain from casting the first stone: the hand that drops the stone should be extended to help another back to their feet.
“Love one another as I have loved you” and “do unto others as you would have done unto yourself” – if these truly lie at the heart of my faith, then dropping the stone is to try loving as my Savior loves, and extending my hand in aid is to treat another as I would want them to treat me. The call I have answered through my faith is not a call to jury duty. It is a call to the witness stand where I can testify to the good in everyone and everything. If I drop the stone but remain a bystander, I am not testifying to my faith: I am failing to live by the standards of humanity in which I believe.
“Turn the other cheek,” is not another way of saying, “take it lying down.” My mother often says, “Catholicism is the last acceptable prejudice.” That is to say, the general (and ideal) Catholic propensity towards openness, compassion, and forgiveness is often either mistaken as a loophole to bash the religion as a whole for the mistakes and shortcomings of its individuals, or mistaken as passivity, complacency, or obliviousness to reality.
God created man in His image. Catechism taught me that God is love; therefore, because I am made in His image I too am called to embody love. And while my spiritual propensity towards love does exist, my human one towards pride causes a great internal conflict. I have learned, though, that there is a great difference between having pride in myself and being prideful. The former is to acknowledge and stand up for my worth as a person – as an individual, unique, and irreplaceable creation. The latter is to believe that my individuality and my uniqueness place me above anyone else.
To me, turning the other cheek is relinquishing one’s pride enough so as to allow room for growth and improvement in both parties involved, but not letting go of it entirely so as to become a willing doormat or scapegoat for one’s opponents. To take any unwarranted or excessive attack lying down is to be lukewarm or indifferent to one’s faith and to one’s own inherent value.
I know the reality of human nature includes unsavory qualities and harmful tendencies, but I also know that the reality of spiritual nature gives every man, woman, and child a measure of worth. Every person’s inherent value is worth fighting for, but I firmly believe that we are called to fight for our worth in ways that are not vengeful or harmful towards our aggressors. Rather, we are called to fight for our worth in ways that would reflect the worth of others.
Of course this is all easier said than done, but another integral part of faith is the battle to overcome human weaknesses and failings. The struggle is real, but my personal failures and shortcomings do not define me. I am defined by how I abandon myself to my faith and how I live it in my daily life.