By ELISABETH ANN BROWN
MY SPIRITUAL JOURNEY HAS BEEN CHALLENGING
WASHINGTON, D.C. — I should begin this by saying that I was brought up in a non-religious household. Church was never a part of my life, other than the mandatory assembly in school before classes commenced for the day. Most of us knew the hymns and prayers by heart and recited them in rather droning tones automatically, without giving a lot of thought to the words or tunes.
I think that church in England began to dwindle after the flower power free-love movement took hold in the 1960s. Personally I have struggled with religion and faith just about all my life. There has always been something in the back of my mind telling me that there had to be something that created the universe, something more than just a big bang. But there was also the thought that without any tangible evidence of this, it was really hard to grasp something I could not see as being real.
I spent much of my life in different countries. I saw a lot of beautiful places and natural wonders, and many things that made me feel that there must be a creator. And then on the news we would hear of a natural disaster somewhere in the world, or an outbreak of a terrible disease, or the sad story of a child who had died of cancer. These things were enough to make me feel that there was no god up in the sky who truly loved as he loved is only son. That could not be. When I became a parent myself, that feeling grew stronger. A parent only wants to protect their children from harm, from pain, from sickness or from a broken heart. How could a father stand by and watch his son being tortured, knowing he had the power to prevent it? It made no sense to me.
When I lived in Germany with my parents, we visited many really beautiful churches and cathedrals. This was because of the historical significance, not from any religious angle. Some of my favourite Christmas music is sung by the Vienna Boys Choir, because it reminds me of a trip we took to Vienna when I was about seven years old. Christmas would not be the same without those angelic voices, so sweet and pure.
But still, there was the nagging doubt. As an adult I moved to The Bahamas in 1982 where I became exposed to a different type of religious fervor. A church on every street corner, street preachers with blaring megaphones, and people quoting Bible verses in almost every conversation. At times I would feel a little embarrassed to admit that I did not go to church. After a while, I accepted a few invitations but found that I had very little patience for the three-to-four-hour services and preachers shouting, whipping their congregations into a frenzy, and people ‘getting in the spirit’ all around me.
I remember one or two telling me the devil himself was preventing me from hearing the truth! I tried every denomination — from Baptist to Seventh Day Adventist, Church of God to Catholic. But everywhere I went I felt out of place and that people were trying to force me to believe as they believed. Each denomination had a reason why all the others were wrong and only theirs could be right. It was all too confusing.
In 2014 when I met my husband, one of the first things we did was discuss our religious beliefs. He is a devout Roman Catholic, having been brought up in the church on the island of Andros in The Bahamas, with his grandfather serving as a Deacon. I was very impressed with his absolute faith in God, while at the same time he accepted that I was still on my spiritual journey. He said he would never expect me to adopt the Catholic faith just to please him. I am grateful for that. After several months, I decided to explore his faith in more depth and began to attend the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) classes in Nassau. They were very patient with me, and I found the services to be relaxing and often came out church with a feeling of renewal.
In 2016 I moved to Washington, D,C., where Ossie and I got married in the DC Superior Court and I joined the RCIA classes at his regular church, St. Augustine’s Roman Catholic Church at 15th and V Streets, N.W. However, the atmosphere there was very different to the laid-back Bahamians. I thought I probably just needed to adjust a little, but one day after class I was approached by one of the teachers and told that I needed to see the priest about an appointment to discuss baptism and what needed to be done before I could be baptised in the church.
Ossie and I were both previously divorced, but unlike him I had never been baptised. Based on what I learned in Nassau the process sounded pretty straightforward. But now the church in DC was asking me to submit to a tribunal that would need to investigate my private life before my marriage to Ossie. I found this to be very upsetting and extremely intrusive. My previous marriage had been a very unhappy one that I had spent a good deal of time trying to put behind me. Now the church wanted to delve into my personal pain and distress and making it a condition for me to become a member of its congregation. I thought a lot about this and decided that it really was not something I was prepared to do.
However, the more I thought about whether or not there is a god, the more I came to feel that it is human nature to want to find a source of spiritual enlightenment and comfort, and I felt that I had been looking in the wrong place for this. I began to feel that the spirit of god is something that lives in us all; we just have to find our own individual way of accepting it. To me, this doesn’t mean cherry-picking verses in the bible to justify everything, but simply to show kindness and love to the world around us.
With that in mind, one day as I was standing on the checkout line in our nearby Safeway, I found myself in conversation with a very animated black woman. It was a very pleasant conversation, which ended up with me donating to her my Safeway monopoly game cards and in turn she offered me a ride home. We live only about 400 yards from Safeway, but I had as usual bought more than I could easily carry so I gladly accepted the offer.
Thelma Jones, my new friend, and I exchanged phone numbers and she came upstairs to meet Ossie in our apartment. Upon learning that we were in the business of journalism and photography, Thelma asked if I would like to cover some events for her. Now I must add that she is very good at conscripting people to do things!! Before I realised it, I had agreed to cover the opening of the Thurgood Marshall Gallery at St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church, which is just across the street from where we live, as well as a play depicting the life of Harriet Tubman. On top of that, Thelma, who is the founder of the Thelma D. Jones Breast Cancer Fund, also invited me to a monthly meeting of the cancer support group.
I wasn’t sure what I was letting myself in for, but cutting a long story short – I am now a volunteer as the official photographer for the support group, as well as writing articles about the meetings. I am very glad to be doing this volunteer work, as I have met some truly amazing, kind and very brave women. I began to attend regular services at St. Augustine’s Episcopalian church, where I also met Mrs. Cissy Marshall, widow of the late Supreme Court justice Thurgood Marshall. I found the congregation to be a very warm, friendly group that feels more like a family than any church I have ever been too.
It is a small church, led by Reverend Martha Clark, a very cheerful, kind and gentle woman. I sat with her one afternoon and told her of my experiences and how disappointed I had been with the Catholic church. She assured me that no matter what my beliefs or what had happened in the past, I was welcome in her church and that she would baptize me whenever I felt I was ready. I feel so much peace in this church and I think I have found the place that will help me to grow spiritually and at my own pace. It feels so very good.
