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Like most of us, David went through ups and downs in his faith life. For a time, he struggled with seeing God and religious figures as anything other than oppressive. While wrestling with these doubts, he encountered an example of profound faith — here’s how that experience changed his perspective.
I was swimming among sharks when a tap on my shoulder woke me up. My little sister was holding two teddies stuffed against her chest, squashed so tightly that their snouts twisted sideways and their beady eyes bulged. She tugged at my arm. “Come on, it’s time for Mass,” she said. Too dazed to respond, I stared at her and took a deep breath as the dream I’d just awoken from trickled back into my mind.
It was a strange dream because I didn’t know how to swim and had only ever seen a shark on the telly and in pictures. Later, when I Googled what it meant out of curiosity, there were several interpretations but one caught my attention — seeing a shark in a dream could symbolize fear of the unknown.
This happened to be a period in my life of much questioning and suspicion about religion. Every unsatisfying answer I found only led to more questions. I was feeling threatened by the concept of an overpowering person or authority figure. That idea of a personality looming large over me, forcing me to conform and placing limitations on my actions and thoughts was no longer appealing to me, thanks to negative experiences with some clergy. The closed, judgmental, and hypocritical attitude of many religious people was the root of my doubt. They spoke a great deal about love but demonstrated very little of it.
Despite my questioning, I continued to join my family for Mass out of obligation. It wasn’t long after we had gotten into the cathedral and taken our seats in one of the pews that I heard the clicking sound of crutches striking the ground behind me. I turned around to see a familiar face walking through the vestibule — a devoted parishioner whom we called Auntie Irene had had her left leg amputated. I would later learn that she had suffered complications from a vascular condition and could not afford a wheelchair. As the hymn commenced, I noticed snail trails of mascara running down her cheeks. She closed her eyes but the tears still seeped out under her lids. Someone sitting beside her put his arms around her. Suddenly, I was holding back my own tears.
