Fresh Err

Tonight on my way home from work I listened to Fresh Air on the radio. Tonight's guests were a father and son who both have recently written books. The son's book is called Tweak- Growing Up on Methamphetamines and the father's is called Beautiful Boy. It was a pretty interesting conversation, but the part of the interview that was the most intriguing to me was when they were asked about the role of "God talk" in treatment programs. The son was talking about how hard it is to be an atheist in programs where, for instance, one of the fundamental ideas is "let g0-let God."
The father, also an atheist, said that early on at an Al-Anon meeting, someone told him that by the end of the process (does he mean the al-anon process, or his son's addiction?) he would believe in God.
Terry Gross asked him if that was true, and he said no. He never did come to believe in God.
But, he said, he did begin to believe in prayer.
Terry said something like "what's the point in praying when you don't believe you're praying TO someone?" This made him think- he said he wasn't really sure, but maybe he was chanting to himself "heal my son. Help my son" to keep his sanity. Maybe he was praying just in case there was someone out there listening.
I wonder if there's something deep within all of us that just has no choice but to acknowledge God's existence when we are at our most helpless points. Somehow, in spite of our logic and need for proof of things, at our core maybe there's something that reminds us to whom we belong.
Someone asked me recently what my "core belief" about God is. If I had to name it, I guess it's that I believe God is bigger than we are- bigger than we can even fathom. More forgiving, more powerful, more loving, more... big. When we come to the limit of what we believe possible, God can do more. I think we tend to put limits on God because we can't imagine that he's too loving to be fair, too forgiving to be punishing. And when we believe God is absent, He is still there present, if not in our hearts and minds, definitely in our souls. Maybe that's what drives the unbeliever to pray to someone whom they "know" does not exist.

Grab the rope

I've been thinking a lot lately about how parents form their children's beliefs. It's come up often in first Eucharist and Reconciliation prep, and now in Baptism prep too. Today at First Reconciliation class I was listening to the teacher tell the parents that they have to be careful that their own fears or negative feelings about rec. won't color their children's feelings about the sacrament. I think parents have to make this choice all the time- a parent who hates going to the dentist must sell it to their kids as a great thing to do, and they do it knowing that having one's teeth cleaned is good for everyone, even if it's uncomfortable and unpleasant.
The parents were reminded that at the First Rec. service, they too will be invited to partake in the Sacrament- and their kids will be watching. It reminded me of a time I went rappelling with a group of teenagers who I worked with at a residential treatment center. I was all for the trip and for all of them facing their fears and slipping down the rock face- the tall, scary rock face. I knew they would walk away from this experience exhilarated, proud of their accomplishments, and braver and better as a person. Yay for the kids!
One by one, the kids said "what about YOU? Are YOU going down the rock face?" and over and over I said "ohhhh you know, I want to make sure ALL of YOU get to go, in case we run out of time. I'm happy to SACRIFICE my turn so that you can have this IMPORTANT experience."
But my kids did not take my crap. They wanted me to try this crazy, dangerous activity, this one that called for new bravery- they wanted me to show them that not only did I believe in its importance for them, but also for me. And of course, they were right.
And now it's time for me to step up to the rope again, because here I am teaching parents how important it is for them to model this Sacrament, and I haven't been in nearly Forever. But, just to make sure everyone else gets a chance, I'll go to another priest. In another parish. Out of town. :)