Legacy Project, 2: Seeds of Doubt
"It's simple, really—with friends to tell us when we are wrong, we arrive together at the truth. Without them, truth dies." Rabbi Steve Leder, from his book, For You When I Am Gone: A Step-by-Step Guide to Writing Your Ethical Will
Friends and others who challenge us sharpen our perceptions and help us grow, but sometimes conflicts lead to separation. That's not necessarily bad if it moves us closer to what's true. And yet, remaining present to those with whom we disagree can also lead to further insight on both sides…after all, seeds of the truth are something we all might claim to have, but truth can't reside in all places at all times. Or can it? I'm not here to answer that, except to shed a little light (maybe) in response to a prompt from Lederer's book on ethical will-making:
When Was a Time You Led with Your Heart?
The most consistent of my heart-led pursuits was my search for an internal anchoring point to which I could cling whenever I felt sad or afraid. We all fear something, and that thing changes as years pass and new vulnerabilities appear. To quote Epictetus, "Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor nor should life rest on a single hope."
Many spiritually inclined people live by proscribed religious templates and tenets to cope with life's mysteries, which was never quite enough for me past the age of eight or nine. After JFK was killed and threw the nation into mourning, the world we knew seemed to begin falling apart. The Vietnam War turned the country into a battleground of conflicting ideologies, and the tension in my household only worsened.
I wanted to make sense of life and asked simple questions: Why does life hurt as much as it does, and what can I do? As child psychiatrist DW Winnicott said, "You can live without a mother and a father, but you can't live in a world that doesn't make sense to you." What's left to work with once our templates are blown and our hopes dashed to pieces? What groups do we align with when our churches, synagogues, and temples are ripped apart by their disagreements? This is not benign and hopeless wondering coming from anyone at any age. This is a heart-led search.
No one can do this elemental sense-making for us. We may absorb strong lessons from many places, but to live each day by the light of knowledge we genuinely hold is something else. We don't just "read" wisdom words or think intelligent thoughts – we respond to their essence through reflection and assessing their basis through time. In fact, people are living words, representing the sum total of forces that have molded them. We're pretty potent that way – each reflecting both the wisdom and lessons in life, even if we articulate few or any words at all.
In my late twenties, I picked up a book by Ninian Smart called The Long Search, which examines religion from a secular perspective apart from theology. Some religious friends rejected the idea that global wisdom traditions and religion could be discussed outside of theology. I argued that honest discussions of ethics, morality, decency, and honor had been shoved aside to defend theological positions. Open talks with Rabbis and rabbinic students attracted me to studies in Judaism. As one Rabbi put it, questioning was "a holy necessity." I felt right at home.
A Hindu friend told me that genuine enlightenment results from a steady re-examination of truths the seeker holds or has inherited. "Doubt is a healthy part of a search, of finding exceptions and alternatives and ultimately, affirming one's own way… it's a function of caring for and saving yourself, first, and then doing unto others as organized religious bodies generally advise."
We live from the inside out, or really not at all. Even if "God" resides on the other end of a bridge too far for you, the idea of preservation based on an immutable, dependable anchor point is available to those who seek it.
No book, parent, or teacher provides everything needed to get through the days and years ahead. Embracing seeds of doubt and uncertainty can lead to profound understanding and eventually to love itself in myriad forms. And if we're fortunate, we can arrive together at greater truths than we knew before, as Lederer suggests.