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How we wobble when we have the collywobbles

Ever since I was a small child, religion greatly fascinated me. It was not something my mother encouraged; in fact she was hardly religious around me at all and as early as I could remember, she never took me to church. However, I think my friends in kindergarten piqued my interest. Kids were always talking about Jesus, and likewise, every afternoon we read a passage from the bible where we learned stories about Jesus and his disciples, always the good stories, always the stories with the altruistic endings of morality and good deeds. And I felt guilted from a very early age: I must go to church.

And so my mother made arrangements for this to happen. She bought me children's bibles and took me when she could, and talked to my friend's parents so that I could go with them to their churches. And though it was a Christian church experience every Sunday, the churches changed from week to week. I was exposed to the fire and brimstone of a very fundamentalist southern Baptist church to a liberal and experimental Lutheran church, and everything in between. And then there was Catholicism, my mother's prescribed Christianity and what I would eventually spend the most time studying.

Like Stephen, religion started conflicting in my life at an early age. I noticed the dissention between the different types of Christianity. I used to be under the impression that a Christian was a Christian, but I soon learned that this was not the case, and I became aware of the deep resentment that the different forms of Christianity would take. Much like the argument that arose between Mr. Dedalus and Dante, Baptists, Catholics, Protestants, and any other sects would have at each other, each with their own set of convictions and very different beliefs. It became hard for me to reconcile these differences, especially when it was apparent to me that it was not so much about Jesus anymore. If only we could "have our opinions whatever they are without this bad temper and this bad language," but this was not the case and too often individuals united under the umbrella of Christianity throw caustic insults at each other (34). Dante's reaction— "Blasphemer! Devil!" is not any different than modern day reactionary political attacks and disagreements (39). And as someone who never was taught to believe a specific religion firmly, I found my religious resolve and understanding crumbling. Such conflict and animosity is so contradictory to the basic principles of Christianity that at many times in my life I've very much felt like Mr. Casey who concluded the heated argument with "Away with God, I say!"

Who could blame him? With so many hypocrisies evident in Christianity, and religion for that matter, no one type better or worse than the other, it's hard to take it seriously. Power in religion, as discussed at the Christmas dinner, can become a dangerous thing. While one would like to trust your religious leaders, too often they are lead astray and ignorance and the lure of politics and power can corrupt their message and their duty to deliver God's word. On top of this, arbitrary rules set up by religions didn't seem to follow any sort of logic or teachings set out by God and Jesus. Stephen slowly began to discover this himself at school and around his parents. He was coming to an age where he could actually eat Christmas dinner with the adults, and as such, he could ponder the problems and worries that he had been hidden from as a child. When he first attended school, Stephen "had to undress and then kneel and say his own prayers and be in bed before the gas was lowered so that he might not go to hell when he died (18)." Of course that is a silly worry by most Christian interpretations; Stephen will not being going to hell if he doesn't finish his prayers before the lights go out, but this was a worry and fear that plagued his unsure religious understandings. As time went on and he was confronted more and more with the truths and the inner workings of religion, Stephen began to question some of the religious structure. After Father Arnall allowed himself to be consumed by anger, Stephen wonders if he was faking it "because a priest would know what a sin was and would not do it (48)." However, if this wasn't the case, Stephen wonders if he actually did become this livid, "what would he do to go to confession? (48)" He continues to ponder the chain of succession of power in the religious order.

Stephen is like me. The more he learns the more he will question his faith and religion. This doesn't mean that he will denounce it. College and schooling is an experience that will constantly challenge the beliefs that you held once true and dear to yourself. Stephen and I share the same "vague dissatisfaction" of something or "someone that eluded him" and myself. Hopefully, with time, though, and research, as well as some spiritual exploration, I will find a set of beliefs and a doctrine that I can stick by.