Letting go of my religious practice

in #life6 years ago

It’s Ramadan and I’m not fasting

In fact, I’m not praying or observing any other aspect of the faith I was raised in, but I am feeling the cultural vibes of this sacred month.

Separating faith from practice is far from simple, especially when you’ve been raised to believe the faith only exists if the practice is intact and specific. I made the shift years ago. It was a swim against the current of my family’s expectations versus my nuclear family’s needs and my personal beliefs.

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I believe practice can enhance the religious experience, but I do not believe it do be definitive of faith. It is wonderful to share so much daily with a large community. That aspect of practice is why I observed it for so long. Ultimately, that community was not for me. I could never feel safe or at home with the Muslims in my area. They were kind and caring, but the majority elevated their ethnic group above others, claiming their religious practice, as dictated by their culture, to be “correct.” This flies in the face of most tenets of faith. In Islam, there is no compulsion in religion, but that won’t stop people from telling me I’m “doing it wrong.”

Letting go of my religious practice has been one of my greatest successes. For me, fasting is a health hazard. It triggers disordered eating and/or hypoglycemic episodes. Prayer created more anxiety than relief or belief. And there was the rigid thinking I experience related to autism and PTSD—religion is a sinkhole for me. I have to learn everything and be perfect. I have to make sure everyone else is perfect. I obsess. It’s not healthy or useful.

Ramadan was announced to me this year by a card in my mailbox. “Oh!” I thought. “Already?” I reflected on what I was missing: nightly dinners and prayers at the mosque, controlling my hunger and thirst for a cause, elevating my spiritual sense of self. . .

Then I reflected on what I wasn’t missing: obsessive self-doubt and physical suffering.

I feel good about my choice to move away from the standard religious practice. My quality of life has improved dramatically. But I don’t recommend this path. It works for me because religion was a part of my abuse. Perfecting my practice became a way to hold onto the abuse and remain a victim. Letting it go turned me into a survivor.

I wonder if I will return to practice one day. Already the words associated with Islamic beliefs have begun to re-punctuate my speech. I find myself reciting passages of Qur’an. The healthier I get, the less painful aspects of organized religion are. Interesting to me is how improved mental health lessens my need for practice.

I don’t have a point here. Whatever your beliefs, as long as they are serving you and not hurting others, go for it. It took me too long to learn that. I am done harming myself for the convictions of others. I will believe as I believe, and that’s good enough for me.

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I don’t know in which part in the world you have been raised, in the part I live islamic religious practices are compulsory. Some extremests believe that those who don’t pray shall be beheaded, of course they can’t apply that but not praying here incurs a lot of prying and criticism.

To separate faith from practice in my opinion is a must, especially for those whose religousness is all about practice. Because in their early childhood they had been preached to that religion is all about practices and obedience. That simehow created religious hypocrisy. Most of muslims who move to non-islamic countries drop their practices all at once.
That is why i believe faith in any form is more important than practice, and practice that is not built upon strong faith is nothing more than hypocrisy.

It sounds that religion stops you from finding\being yourself, without going into a discussion about it because that's not cool lol.
Interesting to read this post from your point of view (one that you don't ever really hear from) and Thankyou :)

Some of this really resonates with me in my relationship to Judaism. I’m not a religious person but I do enjoy some of the aspects of having a community. But one of my major issues with really being a part of that community is that there is a distinct belief in cultural and ethnic superiority, especially among conservative and orthodox people (and I was raised in the former). There are historical reasons for that, of course. Embedded in the religion is a belief in being “chosen” by God. The Holocaust in particular but also millennia of persecution and ethnic cleansing has instilled a rightful fear of “purely Jewish people” becoming extinct, and being not just a religious group but an ethnic one. There’s still a huge taboo against interfaith marriage. Literally every time I go to synagogue or a Jewish event I am questioned about my marital status and someone tries to set me up with their son or convince me to go to some kind of matchmaking thing, which they insist on even more if I tell them that my partner is not Jewish. Interfaith marriage is STILL illegal in Israel, not to mention the blatant persecution and lesser status of non-Jews in the country. So while I enjoy celebrating holidays and feel a certain connection to other people who have had similar upbringings, I have major issues with the insularity and honestly, fundamental racism, that exists within not only the religion but also the culture. That had been a major reason that I have distanced myself.

I am in a relationship with reality. I realized long ago that religion is nonsensical.

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