By Mahshid Hager

“Are you religious?”

I get this question sometimes, from friends, from clients, from co-workers. What follows, is me, mumbling something about “more spiritual than religious”…. “I believe in a Higher Power”…. “Pretty sure I’m not an atheist”…. Frankly, it sounds like a hot mess!

Truth is, I don’t know.

I would say that I wasn’t brought up in a religious family, but I have memories of my grandparents on my father’s side trying to fit in their daily prayers (Namaz),  while me and my cousins would run around them and try to make them laugh and loose track of their prayer. My grandmother fasted for Ramadan and encouraged us to do the “kid version” of fasting as well, which basically meant you could drink all the water or juice you wanted and if you become really, really hungry, she’d give you a small snack too.

My mother was born in a religiously conservative town, Mashhad. The shrine of Imam Reza, the Shiite’s eighth prophet is located there. It is the largest mosque in the world and serves as a backdrop to many of my memories of traveling to Mashhad in the summer to visit my grandparents and my aunts and uncles. I used to love driving around at night and seeing the mosque lit up by string lights. “The Shrine is wearing it’s necklaces”, I used to say, to the delight of the grown ups.

Despite their upbringing, neither one of my parents were particularly religious. They never explicitly talked about their faith. They said the phrase “Khoda Bozorgeh” (God is great) a lot. Anytime I had a concern or worry they’d say “Khoda Bozorgeh”, meaning “You don’t have to worry, God will take care of you”. That was the extent of their spiritual imprint. After the revolution, when my father became more explicitly opposed to religious establishments, he would still use this phrase frequently. Not sure if it was out of habit or if he actually had faith in God.

I always say that I was cheated out of having a good relationship with faith and religion. I was 6 when the revolution in Iran started. Iran became the Islamic Republic of Iran, practically over night. A lot of violence was happening in the name of the religion. I was young and did not understand all the details but I remember feeling a distinct aversion to everything religious, because it was being forced on me. My school became an all girl’s school over night. I had to wear the hijab to school and participate in mid-day prayer. I didn’t even know how to do that! I didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

I later found out that this wasn’t the first time that Islam was being forced onto the country. Iran wasn’t always a Muslim state. Islam came to Iran through the Arab Conquest Of Iran in ca. 640 AD. Before that, Persians practiced Zoroastrianism . The history of Iran’s religious development is rich, heartbreaking and too complicated to fit into in this post. But it does make me wonder how through generations, it played a role in my own spiritual development.

I never really missed the absence of a spiritual faith in my life. At least not until my father was losing his fight with cancer. I wanted to pray but couldn’t. I wanted to believe that “Khoda Bozorgeh” but I doubted His greatness as my father’s health declined. After his passing, I desperately wanted to believe that my father was in a “better place” and feel that there was a “higher purpose” for all of his suffering, but all I felt was rage. People would console me in my grief and encourage me to pray for comfort and peace. My standard reply at the time was: “God and I are not on speaking terms at the moment. But thank you.”

2003 was a No Good Very Bad Year for me. My dad passed away, my ex-husband moved out about a week later and my house almost burnt down in a wild fire two months after that. I really needed God or the Universe or some Guardian Angels or SOMETHING! In a desperate attempt to find this “Something” I wondered into The Unity Center in San Diego. On paper it looked like everything I was looking for: A new thought, spiritual community that emphasized personal growth and welcomes all races, religions and sexual orientations. It is located in the middle of the business district in the heart of San Diego. The outside of the building looks just like any other business warehouse. I walked in sheepishly with my two boys in tow, feeling a little misplaced. My 6-year old son, who was looking forward to his first “Sunday Church” experience, took one look at the place and asked: “What kind of fake church is this??!” I soldiered on for a few weeks but never really resonated with their message. I felt like an impostor. I was still mad that I lost my dad, that life wasn’t giving me a break and no amount of positive spirituality was helping lift the weight I was carrying. We stopped going after a few weeks… I eventually overcame the grief (as much as that’s possible) and mended my broken heart. But it was through therapy and connection with loved ones, not through religion. 

I was recently assisting at a Somatic Experiencing Training in Burlingame, California. The training was held at the Mercy Center, a ministry of the Sisters Of Mercy. Our accommodations were modest and each room was equipped with a bible and some simple religious art work. One of my fellow assistants noted one night: “I have been reading the bible that’s on my night stand. It’s actually pretty interesting.” I found myself filled with envy at this statement. What is it like to pick up the scripture of your religion and read it and understand it?? What is it like to pray in your primary language?

My parents gave me a Quran when I moved away from home. It has sentimental value to me, nothing more. The Quran is written in Arabic. The daily prayers are practiced in Arabic. When you get married in a religious Iranian ceremony, the officiant recites the first chapter of the Quran, the Fatihah, in Arabic. I feel so thoroughly disconnected from all of that! After the revolution, an Arabic language class was added to our elementary school curriculum. I don’t think you should have to learn a whole new language to understand the book that contains the spiritual guidelines of your religion…  

So where does all of this leave me? I was born into my religion, it wasn’t a choice. I sometimes feel like people in the United States or other western countries look at all of those “Muslim countries” in the Middle East and lump them all together and make up their minds about what “those people” are like and what their core values are. I want you to know, that NOTHING I hear in the media and on the news about “those countries” and “those people” represents me. Faith, religion and spirituality is a deeply personal issue. I have never understood the public display of it. I bet I’m not alone in my struggle to find the right balance. I continue to feel the draw towards some deeper meaning of faith, while at the same time resisting the tendencies towards labels and structures that dictate what faith “should” look like.

Here’s what I know for sure: I believe in the power of kindness. I believe in helping those in need in whatever capacity I can. I believe in treating others the way I would want to be treated. I believe in Karma, and the power of gratitude. I give thanks for all the blessings in my life: my family, my friends, my health, the roof over our heads and food on our table. I believe that ego is the source of a lot of suffering and I try to keep mine in check. I believe in the healing power of nature and do my best to protect Mother Earth. I give thanks when I go on a hike or when I step into the ocean. I believe there is a source that guides the whole universe but I don’t think of it as All Powerful and I don’t know what to call “it”. I believe that my father watches over me and I try to make him proud. I’m sometimes so aware of his presence that I feel like I could reach out and touch him, so I guess I believe in spirits too.

So, am I religious?  Not by traditional standards. I’m on a spiritual journey that will continue to challenge me and teach me about myself and the world. My faith keeps changing and growing as I do. Isn’t that the whole point anyway….?

I would love to hear from you. How did you discover your faith? How do you practice it?

What challenges did your faith help you overcome? What did you learn through it?

Share, share, share. please!! 🙂