Something I’ve always wanted to write about is my journey alongside religion. The last few years have seen me completely reimagine what it means to believe in God and to be a Christian, and in all honesty, I never imagined my faith would take the turns it has. With that said, I don’t think that my experience is that unique. Just like many of my peers, I was raised in the church, but don’t really practice anymore. Trying to figure out how I got to this point was quite the journey in self-reflection, and I thought it would be a cool exercise to write it down and share with the world.
To best understand why this journey is worth this effort, some context for my Christian background might be in order.
I was raised in the Mar Thoma church, which, for those who don’t know, is basically a reformed offshoot of the Indian Orthodox church. My family had always been fairly religious, and we were regular attendees of Sunday services. In fact, my Sundays were always booked solid from 9 to 5. Sunday school, church service, and various activities afterward constituted a full day’s work, enough so that I considered Saturday to be the extent of my weekend. Church served as a consistent community throughout childhood. While I wouldn’t see church folk as often as I would see my friends at school, having new classmates had me making new friends every year, whereas I consistently saw people from church on a weekly basis for my entire life. Over time, I came to consider them family. As I grew older, I became increasingly involved in church programs. Outside of Sunday, a significant chunk of my week was spent going to prayer meetings, choir practices, youth meetups, and other programs (Christmas plays, VBS, you name it!).
Due to the amount of time I spent involved in church, it served not only as community, but as incubator for my interests. From a young age, I was very interested in music, and church was the perfect place to this initial enthusiasm to take root and sprout. Over time, I grew to take an extremely active role in the musical programs of my church, from weekly Sunday services to large choir performances. More than simple participation, my involvement in music allowed me to hone leadership and interpersonal skills in a manner that other venues, such as school clubs, did not offer. The church also created spaces for youth leadership outside of music: competitions, community service, fellowship. Taking advantage of all these opportunities is the primary reason why involvement in the church was such a formative experience for me.
On top of these local activities, I would also participate in large events hosted by my regional network of churches. Through these regional events, I would interact with hundreds of brown people! I didn’t really realize this at the time, but this extended group of people was instrumental in helping me feel as if I belonged somewhere. Making friends from different churches and hearing about lives outside my social bubble was akin to the experience of going off to college, ie an expanded social environment, with a myriad of unique personal experiences and perspectives. Regional happenings thus became times to eagerly await, and I very much valued this source of friends and acquaintances. Naturally, I became fairly involved in these programs as well, musically and organizationally.
Regional activities, coupled with my own church programs, resulted in a ceaseless schedule of events, which, along with school, marked the passage of time. On Thanksgivings, I remember loitering in the church basement during a massive (idiosyncratic) auction, anticipating the feast, but mostly pumpkin pie, that would come afterward. Christmas season stormed in with its own whirlwind of activities. Preparing for the plethora of choir events, the Christmas play, and caroling demanded heavy commitment, and was probably the least festive season for many people. The Lent season evokes memories of having nothing for lunch on Sundays for weeks but rice and lentil porridge, quite possibly the blandest meal on Earth. As summer would roll around, my days were filled with preparing for VBS, practicing for upcoming church competitions, and going to youth conferences, where I would reconnect with all of the friends I hadn’t seen in months! Instant Messaging was still new-ish at the time, and keeping up with the friends I made in these conferences was probably the biggest reason for me to see what all that fuss with AIM was about. As the school year began, so did Sunday School, and the weekly activities associated with that. The church and school calendars, then, constituted the structure around which I, inextricably, grew and matured around until college.
As a result of my immersion in the church, I was a fairly religious person. A side note, for me, the term ‘religiousness’ doesn’t imply ‘culturally backwards-ness’. I don’t think that I held any crazy views, like believing that May 15th would bring about the apocalypse, or that the Bible must interpreted literally. Granted, I’m positive that some people around me did believe such things, but I never looked at the people around me and think them irrational. For me, being religious meant that I spent a few years believing I was called to serve non-Christians in East Asia. I definitely thought about becoming a pastor as a career goal, which I guess, to some, might seem crazy! But that was what was natural to me, especially at the time. In high school, I, amongst others, led a push to form a Christian club affiliated with the school, to some success. Throughout my senior year, we held regular meetings, had a fair amount of members, and even organized public events.
My life before college had me devoting a significant chunk of my time and energy to my faith, and Christianity made up quite a bit of my identity. With that said, I wasn’t without my doubts. There were a few troubling questions that I couldn’t come to terms with. What happened to non-Christians after death? I grew up believing that this life on earth was but temporary, and everyone should be working for eternal life in some sort of heaven after dying. I was taught that Christianity was the only path to this eternal life. But hadn’t billions of people lived who were not Christian? Would they go to hell, just stop existing, also go to heaven? This was something that I really couldn’t understand. I vividly remember one of my friends telling a high school teacher she would be going to hell because she was never baptized. A pretty funny story to this day, but it brought up an uncomfortable question: do good people go to hell simply because they aren’t Christian? Another question (out of many): How can Christians not all be good people? We have seen countless people doing evil in this world who profess to be Christian, so this question seems a bit silly. However, at its core, is one that bothered me quite a bit. If Christianity is indeed the only way to get to heaven, then why wouldn’t it be the case that being a Christian would result in people being upstanding? I wasn’t fully satisfied with the answers provided by those around me. I never thought that people were intentionally lying to me, but I felt that their explanations weren’t well thought out, or long considered. Many church elders talked about the importance of free will, and God wanting to give us the choice between good and evil. But what is the point of people suffering? Why would God want evil people? Answers to these questions would only spawn more questions, and I didn’t feel comfortable going to my immediate community with them.
I felt like I had to explore these questions somewhat solitarily, figuring that coming to conclusions on my own would be more satisfying than just hearing them from people. Naturally, the logical place to go would be the Bible. After all, Christianity must have answers within its confines! These questions are not at all easy to tackle, and I surmised that finding my own peace with them would have the side effect of having a better understanding of scripture. In these studies of mine, I grappled with questions such as the meaning of baptism, what happens to people’s souls after conversion to Christianity, and how the Holy Spirit would work to change them afterward. I also studied Paul’s interpretation of lots of topics, such as temptations, the divinity of Christ, and plenty of other topics. Basically, I was studying the New Testament like it was my job! After getting to Cornell, I took seminars on Old Testament Law, the origin of many Jewish customs and traditions spelled out in the Torah, and how that relates to New Testament doctrine.
Although I decided that answering these questions was something I wanted to do on my own time, going to college also had me leaving the community in which I had grown. Not having the same support groups had me looking for some type of Christian community. While I didn’t really expect them to actively help me find answers, I did hope that college aged kids would have similar lines of questioning. Along these lines, I joined various Christian groups my first semester, looking for that lifelong group of friends everyone seems to make in college. Interestingly, the people I met were all people I felt like I could get along with. We could have bible studies together and discuss interesting topics. We would eat meals with each other, meet up to play basketball, or drive out to the country for paintball. Of course, when the situation arose, as it often did, we all would study and do homework together. I even joined various praise & worship teams during my freshman year, hoping to get involved musically.
Even after doing all these things, and spending copious amounts of time with these groups, I still didn’t feel comfortable around the Christian community at Cornell. Even though we talked about all kinds of issues, people seemed unconcerned with the questions I would ask during Bible studies, as if they were trivial. Over time, I felt that my thoughts and opinions were a bit unwelcome during discussions. In retrospect, we were all just college kids; obviously there weren’t answers waiting for me! At the time, however, I felt fairly let down. On top of that, I didn’t mesh as well with the community as I thought I would. So many of the people that I met were extremely cool, doing really amazing things! Personalities are a funny thing, and I never meshed with the community nearly as well as I had hoped.
In addition to Christian groups on campus, I also tried going to a few different churches in the Ithaca area. Not being too attached to a specific type of service, I attended non-denominational, Episcopalian, and Catholic services. Needless to say, I didn’t feel quite at home in these various churches either. Non-denominational churches were the easiest to access, but the worship didn’t feel very thought provoking, and I never even felt a desire to engage the community further than the services. Interestingly, the Episcopalian services did feel valuable to me! Having a liturgy and structure around communion was much closer to a Mar Thomite service, and it felt more thoughtful and methodical. I did enjoy attending these services, and felt more interested in getting involved. The churchgoers were sweet and friendly, and I guess I did feel welcome. With that said, I wasn’t as comfortable as I hoped I would be. I didn’t feel the intimacy that I felt from my church back home. Something about the culture and perceived closeness was missing. By the end of my freshman year, I still felt the same yearning for community as I did when I went to school. That yearning translated to practicing my faith as well. Despite my efforts to better understand my faith, I felt just as confused as I always had.
Upon further thought, I realized that no matter where I went, I wouldn’t feel the same about community as I did back home. Being involved in the Indian Christian community was, by itself, such a large part of Christianity growing up, and was, for better or worse, non existent at school. My culture greatly influenced my upbringing, and in turn, my faith. The way I practiced my beliefs wasn’t as easily transferable as I assumed it would be.
In essence, my freshman year of school taught me that my perception of God and my faith itself stems from more than just the Bible and Sunday School. Everything I learned regarding my faith was conducted through a specific cultural framework. My faith had comprised a large part of my identity, but the fact that I went to a Malayalee church was arguably just as important in shaping me. The entire Indian immigrant community to which I had been exposed was steeped in religion. Therefore, coming to terms with my faith required far more than just studying the Bible. I would have to come to grips with my cultural background, the history of Christianity, and how it connects to the faith I was taught. If my existential questions were originally quite daunting, these additional complexities felt overwhelming. How could I even begin to explore? Whereas the Bible seemed an intuitive place to start with my original doubts, it couldn’t begin to address the issues I was now facing. Where would I even go outside of this resource?
Being in school, taking more classes seemed like a good idea! I started studying the history of Early Christianity, how it developed and spread, and how it interacted with the world around it. In addition, I began reading all kinds of secondhand resources, from Eusebius to Reza Aslan. On top of these authors, I began to explore Christianity’s history in India. It’s interaction with other faiths, ability to thrive in different atmospheres, and constant evolution over millennia painted a fascinating picture! Over time, I felt a lot more comfortable looking outside the realm of religion to understand my questions. Studying history and analyzing works of literature were both immensely gratifying exercises, and I also started reading works of prominent philosophers. I had never felt such intellectual satisfaction when reading the Bible, and for the first time, felt like I was learning a lot about myself and my beliefs.
Around this same time, I finally began finding people that really connected with me, around whom I felt comfortable asking my questions. I realized that many of my friends had such interesting perspectives and thought processes regarding ideas such as good and evil. Most of them considered themselves agnostic, and yet their thoughts didn’t feel at all disingenuous. On the contrary, they were more honest and consistent with my experience of life than I had ever considered. My whole life, I viewed agnosticism as a spiritual copout of some sort. It seemed a convenient way to fend off questions regarding God/religion and not think about them. Had they considered my doubts, wouldn’t they also be troubled? At least atheists would make up their mind instead of just sitting on the fence! However, conversations I had with my agnostic friends were so stimulating. Generally speaking, non-Christian perspectives were rich, nuanced, and so foreign to me! It’s not that I was incapable of considering my questions from different viewpoints. But even when I would try and approach these questions through various lenses, everything would invariably be shaded with a Christian tint. How refreshing to see these same perspectives, uncolored! I didn’t expect to be so blown away by the non Christian viewpoints on questions I had for so long. I never thought I would be so attracted to them.
I had always considered the Bible to be authoritative in some sense. By that, I don’t mean that I thought the Bible should be interpreted literally. Rather, I thought that truth about our world could be gleaned from careful study. Even more so, I believed that the Bible had the ability to satisfy anybody’s questions about God, life, and society. That was the reason I felt so strongly about my faith, and why I could believe that Christianity was indeed the Way to eternal life. But here I was, regarding agnostic, Buddhist, Hindu points of view as perfectly valid. I believed my cultural background to be just as important in explaining my beliefs as scripture. Could I continue to regard the Bible as the final authority on Truth? No! For me, this was a watershed moment. Everything I had learned and believed about the world had Christianity lurking in the background as a motivator. I realized that needn’t be the case. I could reevaluate all my opinions, thoughts, and approaches…to everything!
At the same time, I had always been taught that my faith was the only true faith. I always figured I was practicing Christianity correctly, at least as best I could. As long as I believed in my heart and professed with my mouth Jesus as God, I would be okay in His eyes, right? Having an honest faith was all I needed to go to heaven. How lucky was I?! After all, I was born into a Christian family, with a strong church community around me. All I had to do was not stray off this path laid out before me, and I would be rewarded in the long run. Billions upon billions of people had lived and died without having ever heard of Christianity; such a small percentage of people were born into this life-giving path. What were the odds of me reaping the rewards of that dice roll? Looking at the percentages, it would seem really unlikely that I was just born into the single correct way to live life. With that said, the consequences of falling away from Christianity were always made out to be significant. As confusing as my search for truth had been, maybe it would be best to keep the Bible at the centerpiece of my questioning? Was it really worth straying away from that path in favor of the classes, the friends, the philosophy? The prospect of hell is truly a scary thing. I remember being terrified for weeks! There I was, making choices that could have long lasting repercussions, when all I would have to do was remain firm in my Christian conviction.
Despite my serious misgivings, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t continue thinking the way I had in my childhood. Even if the Bible is indeed the final authority on truth, how can we readers figure out what answers it contains? Wouldn’t it give clear direction in terms of doctrine? Rather, teachings of the Bible are fiercely debated, and have always been. Different people have certain non-negotiables when it comes to Christianity, and on matters that are more fluid, give up authority to God. How can some answers be so obviously laid out in the Word, yet others unclear? For example, when it comes to Christianity’s claim to be the only true religion, some fiercely believe that to be true, others don’t, and yet others believe that we should trust in the character of God to make the right decisions. Homosexuality is also clearly anti Christian to some, not an issue to others, and to some, something to leave in God’s hands. How can we say that the Bible provides some answers, not others, but still be the end all be all? Despite my fears regarding my spiritual wellbeing, I knew that I would be happier with a different approach to my questioning. I realized that I came to peace more because of my journey outside of Christianity, than from within it.
To have faith is to believe in something without proof of its existence. Even though people can be faithful, they can’t know for sure that what they believe is true. That doubt isn’t at all a bad thing, but it necessarily exists. In that sense, everybody is agnostic, because nobody knows with certainty what is true and what isn’t. I was always troubled by this doubt in my youth; my last few years have just led me to be more comfortable with that uncertainty. At this point in my life, I would consider myself an agnostic theist. While I can never be privy to what exists outside of me, I could believe that there exists a higher power. How does this power manifest itself? I’m not quite sure. As our dear leader Elon Musk suspects, we could live inside of a simulation. Or we could be part of an experiment. Who knows? Maybe God does indeed exist, just as we’ve imagined in our religions! I’m also okay with the idea of nothingness. I don’t believe that the beauty around us necessitates an intelligent designer or an actress setting our universe in motion. Either way, our human experience is a continual attempt to know God and to know ourselves. In these endeavors, we’ve asked questions about how things work, responsible for our scientific progress, and why things work, leading towards philosophy and religion. Regardless of the existence of a higher power, we, can create our own meaning in life, Sisyphean as they come, and live that to whatever extent we please.
With that said, the Bible, to me, is a useful work to understand. It is a herculean effort by people to explain the world around us. Billions of people, at least nominally, use it to understand morality and righteousness. The perspective afforded by the Bible is important to have when trying to understand those around us, especially as so much of society is built around it.
As for me, I still consider myself a Christian. Jesus was a person who saw a world order that continually exploited the powerless, a firebrand who unapologetically fought for justice. Church, complementing Christ’s life, is a vehicle capable of making such positive differences in peoples’ lives. To (selectively)follow the example of Christ is to strive for a fairer, kinder society. Such a follower, in my eyes, falls under the Christian umbrella, should she wish it so. Therefore, the Christian experience is more than faith based. To think so diminishes the effect of culture and history on what it means to be Christian. My upbringing and immersion in South Indian culture make me just as much of a Christian as the fact that I went to church. My Christian experience, therefore, is vastly different that a Christian who grew up in a Unitarian church in the Bay Area. Claiming Christian identity, cannot be useful in defining any common ‘Christian’ culture.
Christianity, like many other religions, is a complex, nuanced evolution of our attempts to answer basic human questions. Its theology has produced powerful understandings of love, human relationships and our responsibilities to other human beings. At the same time, many of its understandings are diminished by the church’s tendency to use them to control the weak and powerless. For example, the concept of hell, to me, doesn’t make sense at all, and seems like a tool to wield power over people. Due to the church being comprised of people, it has been used to perpetuate suffering in this world, and I have no problem rejecting theology that seeks to exploit or hurt others, no matter how biblically supported it may be. At this point in my life, I want to surround myself with people that I love, and with people who love me (hopefully these sets overlap). Society has worked extremely hard, to create an order that allows for our impulses and shortcomings, while still lifting people out of suffering. That job is not yet done, and I want to work to reduce suffering in this world. For me, that is both a short and long term goal. In the short term, this means finding people who are in need and alleviating that need. In the long term, I want to move society in a direction that is more empathetic, receptive to others, and robust towards disturbances. Unlike Jesus, who sought to upend his world order, I would like to shore it up to become more inclusive. I believe that our society has come a long way in this regard, but requires a constant fight to continue in that direction. In that sense at least, I hope to be worthy of the example laid out over two thousand years ago.
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