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| by Ezella Kay |
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| Contributors: Mark Foley Ezella Kay Cindy Christensen Tor Myrvang |
| Childhood I have been asked many times to write what people call "my life." As I go over it in my mind, I realize that I am about to write a mystery, a mystery as deep and mysterious as the human mind and spirit. It has been an extraordinary life, but then again, isn't every life extraordinary? One major consideration has been my motivation for choices, my strength in difficult times, and my stumbling block. This one thing is religion, or put more broadly, my belief system. My parents weren't religious, but my 2 sisters and I were sent to the nearest Baptist church to Sunday School almost every Sunday. I still remember how proud I was the day I finally completely memorized the first Psalm, and not long after, the 23rd Psalm that is the traditional comfort Psalm for Christians. This Christian fundamental belief system satisfied my religious yearnings and fed my developing mind and spirit while I was young. In a sense, it was a much-needed life-preserver. I needed a life-preserver to keep from drowning in the ocean of evil surrounding me. My father began using my as a sex-toy before I was five. His abuse continued until I was fourteen. His sadistic games were quickly relegated to the realms of my unconscious mind, and as unbelievable as it sounds to some people, by the time I was fifteen, I no longer had a memory of all that had happened during those years. By the summer of my fifteenth year I had lost a year of high school from a mysterious undiagnosed illness, was under the care of a psychiatrist, was depressed and suicidal. I was then subjected to electric shock treatments, and when these did not seem to "cure" me, I was put in a mental institution for 3 weeks for "observation." This was in the fifties when there were state-run "hospitals" for "crazy" people, and I had just turned 16. Even though much of my childhood remains beyond the reach of my memory, the shock treatments and those weeks in the state hospital have fuelled many a nightmare. What no one knew or perhaps even suspected in that day and age, was that the cause of my problems was my own father and his brother. Convent As I went through my own personal hell, I clung to religion as the one thing that would enable me to survive. But, though I hung on with all my might to the only religion I had ever known, it did not give me any answers that made sense out of my chaotic world. So . . . I began searching. My search led me to the Catholic religion, which seemed more logical to my inquiring mind than the emotionalism of Protestantism. The arguments and philosophy of Thomas Aquinas and Ignatius of Loyola who founded the Jesuits, gave me food for thought. The structure introduced stability into my confused world. And finally, the convent offered a world of safety and security that I craved, though I no longer remembered why. At the age of 21 I entered a Catholic religious community and became a perfect nun. I was outgoing, compassionate, studious, a leader in every respect. I spent at least 3 hours a day in prayer. I wrote treatises on religion, was the assistant editor of a magazine for nuns, a contributing author to a magazine for families and one for children. I taught English and history, science and religion in the convent high school. I travelled all across the United States giving religious education seminars for teachers, and recruiting speeches at high schools. I conducted retreats for teachers and high school students. I was indeed a busy and apparently very happy nun. While all this was happening on the outside, I struggled daily with my doubts about what I professed. So much of what I taught others I did not believe myself. I tried with all my might to overcome my "lack of faith." I thought of myself as a bad person and a bad nun because I was really a hypocrite. Not a single person knew of these inner conflicts. I went to confession on a regular basis, but since I never really believed in the "sacrament of confession," I never truly confided in the priest. I could debate theological questions with the best of them, but mostly because I needed to convince myself. Through college and graduate work I consistently made A's in every subject. In my wounded mind and personality, perfection in all I did was my ticket to salvation. All during these many years, which eventually added up to 27, I hated my life and myself. I sincerely wished I had never been born. I said my rosary every day and prayed with fervor, all the while despising myself because I could only pretend that I believed. I wanted so desperately to believe that sometimes I was able to convince myself that I was not really a hypocrite because I would believe if I could. And to make it all worse, I had no memories of the abuse from my childhood, and had no idea why I was "so weird." I faced each day with dread and could probably have won an Oscar for my performance as a happy, model nun. In my forties, after being raped at knife point, memories began to surface and plunged me into the darkest period of my life. For awhile I walked in darkness, blackness within and without, terrifying shadows of things past. I could not see any light, only the evidence of shadows proved there was light somewhere, for there are no shadows where there is no light. There is no need to share details here, but through the months that turned into several years, I gradually made my way toward the full light of the sun. Immersed in memories and flashbacks of unspeakable acts, steeped in fear and confusion, I muddled on. By hindsight, I know that dark time was like the hour before dawn when the earth seems to be without life, and holds its breath in anticipation of what is yet to come; when the moon has passed over and the sun has yet to rise. I recall something an old Italian tour guide once said as we nuns waited for an Easter sunrise service in Rome, "Never fear, my friends, this night will end, you cannot hold back the dawn!" Freedom As I gradually struggled toward wholeness, I became aware that if I remained in the repressive atmosphere of the convent, the dawn would arrive, but I would never see it. As long as I believed whatever I was told to believe, and did whatever I was told to do, in exactly the way I was told to do it, as long as I refused to take responsibility for my own choices, and refused to live my life the way I knew it should be lived, I would stay in a world devoid of light. At the age of 48, with one small suitcase filled with all I owned, I boarded a plane to go back to the California where I was born and raised. But the California I returned to was not the same California I had left 27 years earlier! Everything became a challenge in a world I had only lived in from the outside, as it were, because I was inside a system that said, "You must be in the world, but not of it." I remained outwardly Catholic as I began my search for a job. I accepted a position with the children's ministry of a interdenominational religious organization. Once more I was training teachers, writing and editing children's stories and educational materials. I bought my first car, opened my first bank account, rented my first apartment, bought my first furniture - all when most people are enjoying their grandchildren. The first piece of jewelry I purchased was a string of fake pearls for $3.50, an extravagance I felt guilty about for days! After getting settled, I returned to the Protestantism of my youth, hoping that at long last I could understand and accept what I couldn't when I was young. Unfortunately, nothing had changed and it was still as illogical to me as it had been before. So once more I became a hypocrite, not by choice, but by circumstance. I had clarified my beliefs in the depths of my being and had written it all down in a journal. I knew of no other belief system that came close to what I believed. Here are some excerpts from my journal from July 31, 1997, written on the top of Palomar Mountain on a weekend camping trip: I can no longer believe in the god of traditional Christianity, or the Judaic god of the Old Testament. When I pray, who am I praying to? Myself? If god is all-good, all-knowing, and all-powerful, then something doesn't make sense. All three cannot be true and be consistent with all the suffering in the world. Science is clear on the truth that everything in the universe is made up of the same stuff, the same elements. Both animate and inanimate things are all made of the same building blocks. Whatever principle or force guides all this also begets life in some things, and various degrees of intelligence and finally consciousness. There is definitely a principle at work here. Whether or not that principle or force itself has consciousness is the question. I think only we ourselves can assign meaning to life, death, and suffering. It don't think there is any extrinsic meaning and purpose, other than the universal tendency toward order as seen in crystals and flowers, toward life, which is found in the depths of the oceans and under the polar caps, and change, which seems to be the very nature of being. If we want life to have a meaning, then we must give it one. . After writing these thoughts, I concluded with, "I wonder if anyone else believes as I do?" Then I closed my journal and put it away, and went back to working for a Christian organization because I knew of nothing else to do. I still waited for the dawn. Daybreak When the dawn did come, it was so splendid, so full of promise and joy, that I was at first afraid to embrace it for fear it was fantasy. And just as shadows disappear when you stand under the noonday sun, all doubts left. One day while searching the Internet, I came upon a web site called Scientific Pantheism. Out of curiosity, and because I was in a continual search for what I could accept as truth, I began to read. I became aware of an actual ache in my chest, tears sprang to my eyes, and with an audible cry of joy, I topped any discovery by anyone from the past or present - I discovered the Universe! At long last I didn't have to try to reconcile the idea of an all-loving, all-knowing, all-powerful god who would allow fathers to rape their daughters, and earthquakes and disease to destroy the lives of millions who have hardly even had a change to live. The Scientific Pantheism Credo was a little less defined then, but was basically the same as it is today. In one brilliant flash I knew what I believed, I had a name for it, and I knew I was only one out of many who believed the same. I was a member of a community, yet unknown, but real. All the years of searching, all the agonies of feeling like a hypocrite, all the doubts fell away like icicles melted in the intense heat of the sun. This was not my journey's end. I am now 58, and more than 9 years have passed since I left the convent to "make my way in the world." These 9 years have been a lifetime in themselves. Now I daily embrace life in all its wondrous beauty. I laugh and the Universe responds with rainbows and roses. I cry and the tears of every suffering child are mine. I hope and the hope of all who have ever longed for an end to hatred and racism is mine. I am my brother's keeper. I am my brother. I am the Universe that thinks and loves and hopes and suffers and laughs and walks and grows and changes and dies. The world is full of Scientific Pantheists. It's a belief system that does not require education or economic security, it requires no special language or culture, has no limits as to age or nationality. It is based on the ability of the human mind to seek and grasp the reality of truth. It is experienced by a child who watches a helium balloon rise into the sky, or who sees a butterfly break out of a cocoon, or learns about the intricate patterns of snowflakes and fingerprints. In the face of the Universe we are all children, children filled with hopes and dreams of a future devoid of poverty, hatred and suffering. These dreams seem unrealistic and unfulfilled in a world torn with man-made and natural disasters, but let us keep hope and remember, no one can hold back the dawn! Welcome the Dawn I knew everyone was staring at my knees! There was nothing particularly wrong with my knees except that they had not been visible to the public for 27 years! And here they were, exposed for all the world to see! I was walking in the park and wearing a pair of shorts for the first time after leaving the convent. The two biggest challenges I faced? - money and makeup. Money because I had not handled money more than a handful of times in the last 27 years. Banking, check accounts, credit cards - all were pretty much a mystery to me. And don't even get me started about makeup! What comes so naturally as a teenager is a major threat to sanity when you're 48 years old. There were also times when my naivete got me into embarrassing situations. To this day I don't know what was so funny about some of the jokes that were told in my presence. Then there was the time I was in a car with friends and we passed a sign announcing a "Garage Sale." I was completely puzzled and showed my ignorance by asking in all simplicity, "Why would anyone want to sell their garage?" After a stunned silence and an outburst of laughter when everyone realized I was quite serious, I was told the meaning of the sign. I have since, of course, had my own garage sale and yard sale and even participated in a neighborhood sale. I can buy and sell junk with the best of them now! There was an upside to all this. Just imagine the blessing of not having to watch any reruns on television. After only watching the news on television for 27 years, every program was brand new to me! First-run movies, serials and sitcoms moved across the TV screen in an endless number of premieres. [October 7, 2000] All material is copyright Ezella Kay 1998-2000 |
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| Ezella Kay (formerly named Ezella Edwards) has explored many themes of pantheism - human responsibility, forms of meditation and celebration, acceptance of life, existence in time - with a sincerity, clarity and depth that inspired so many of us. After a traumatic childhood, Ezella sought shelter in the convent and became a Catholic nun for 27 years. Yet she never succeeded in quieting her doubts that a good, all-knowing, all powerful god could allow so much injustice and suffering in the world. She left the convent when she was 48, and abandoned Christianity for pantheism shortly after. "Once I stopped looking for reasons for all that happens," she writes, "I no longer had to try to reconcile all the difficult things of life with some sort of overriding good guy in the sky. Now my difficulties are just challenges to be faced; they don’t touch my inner being. Joy and peace accompany me at every step." All material is copyright Ezella Kay 1998-2000. For permission to reproduce please contact info@pantheism.net |
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