We all sense the mystery that lives just the other side of our existence. We can taste the stuff the connects us all. We can feel the heat of the source of love. The miracle of a leaf that turns green inspires such awe that if we could not call it mundane then we would have to fall upon our knees and cry.
And because it is so powerful, so pervasive and omnipresent we have no choice but to try and name it, to understand it, to break it into its component pieces and see how it works. We can’t.
A fingertip will never fathom they purpose of the keys it is striking even while it types a masterpiece. A hair may as well try to understand the thoughts in the brain that is only inches away. A toe could endlessly ponder the meaning of the darkness deep inside a designer shoe to no avail.
We have a thousand names for god, and even more numerous are the ways we have invented to approach oneness with this source. We pray, meditate, dance, sing, write, explore, love, cry, and no matter what we do to honor god, it works… perfectly. Wherever we look, how ever we choose to search, we find what we are looking for.
When a child asks how to find god and you are wondering whether to tell him to be a Christian or a Jew, realize that it doesn’t make any difference. Regardless of what you tell him, he will find his own way… and whatever way he finds will be the right way.
And if you are wondering whether you are living up to your responsibility as a parent based on the choices he makes, don’t worry.
The fact that he is asking is all that matters.