"You are cordially invited to make your own choices when it comes to religion and spirituality."

Larissa Kaye Batten (LLbeara@aol.com) writes "Soul Food," a weekly column for SpiritSite.com.  

Larissa is a prolific writer whose work has been featured in several publications.

"Some people pray to the earth and the wind and the stars, to crystals and who knows what," the minister called out to the hundreds of people gathered for young Cary's funeral. "But I pray to Jesus Christ. And when I die, I will go to a higher place. I will go to the best place there is." 

I had never met young Cary before she was killed in a late-night car wreck. I had only spoken to her father once. I had spoken to her mother a few times, and I had never met her brother. 

Yet I chose to attend Cary's funeral because she was a young and well loved member of my community. Her mother worked at a place I often frequented, and many of my friends knew her family. I showed up out of my respect to her family, and as a result of the gratitude I have for my very precious life.

I did not attend Cary's funeral to be told by the minister that my belief or lack of belief in Jesus Christ will determine the course of my existence as well as my ultimate death.

I do not attend funerals to be judged by the person in charge of conducting the funeral.

Two weeks after I attended Cary's funeral, a friend called me on the telephone.

"Lara," Jane said, "I wonder if you would come with me to a funeral tomorrow. The woman who died had anorexia. That's why she died. I don't want to go to the funeral alone."

Although I felt like I had shown enough compassion to the world at large in recent weeks, my mouth decided otherwise.

"Yes, definitely. When would you like me to meet you?"

This time, I attended a stranger's funeral because I wanted to be of service to my friend who did not want to go alone. I also knew that this funeral could have been my own. I, too, have a history of anorexia. The same disease could have killed me if I had not found recovery.

"Let's meet at 10:30," Jane said. "We can drive over there together."

Two funerals in two weeks.

A different minister; the same message.

"Please do me a favor," the minister called out to the people at the funeral. "Please do not resist this request of mine. Please would you bow your heads and shut your eyes. Do not open your eyes. This will be done in total privacy."

Uh oh. Something was up. I have been to a few funerals in my lifetime, and this kind of talk was new to me.

"Now, I want to invite you to do something. I want to invite you to be born again. If you choose Jesus Christ today, you will be born again. Please do me this one favor. Raise your hand, raise your right hand if you - "

Oh God. Here we go again. This was a funeral, for God's sake, not an invitation to the spiritual. Spiritual? No, I could hardly call this spiritual. For me, spiritual implies loving, forgiving, gentle, kind, inviting.

I felt stung by the minister's words. This minister, like the one at the other funeral, had something up his sleeve that made me rather sick inside.

"Yes ma'am, yes sir," the minister cried, "I see your hands raised. Dear God, oh dear God, I pray especially for these people with their hands raised."

I wanted to yell out my own words. I wanted to jump up out of my seat and run out of the funeral.

The people behind me whispered out of their own discomfort. I felt comforted to know I was not alone in my awkwardness, my resentment, my shock at the words of this minister.

I heard my friend yawn. That helped me, too.

Somehow I managed to remain in my seat and to keep my mouth shut, if only out of respect for the family of the woman who lay in her beautiful white and golden casket at the front of the room.

But I fled as rapidly as I could after the funeral.

I knew not to say anything to my friend. She is a Christian, after all.  Maybe she would go along with the minister's special invitation. I should have known better, however. My friend is a Christian, yes indeed. She is a Christian with an open, kind heart. She follows the principles of love and tolerance.

"He shouldn't have done that," she said. "He shouldn't have done that Invitation in the middle of a funeral. That was totally inappropriate."

"That was disgusting," I agreed. "What if there were Jewish people there? I was raised in a Jewish family. What if people of other religions came today to show their respect? This shouldn't be about religion."

My friend agreed, and I felt better to know again I was not alone.

I had never heard the word "Invitation" before in this context.

What kind of Invitation was this?

The minister had asked the people at the funeral to RSVP right on the spot. RSVP to what? To being of a privileged religion? To being better than the rest?

Was this an invitation to the spiritual, an invitation to the religious, or an invitation to partake of prejudice and separation?

A family doctor once asked me about my religious views. I was comfortable with his questions because I had gone to him to seek spiritual guidance along with medical suggestions.

"Do you believe that Jesus Christ is your savior?" my doctor asked.

"Yes," I answered simply. "Yes, I do."

But nobody ever invited me to believe this. I wasn't RSVPing to somebody else's beliefs, questions, or pushiness.

I do believe Jesus Christ is my savior. I believe that because I had a spiritual experience involving Jesus that changed my life.

But as far as I'm concerned, that gives me no right whatsoever to determine what works for anybody else in this world.

In fact, I highly doubt that Jesus Christ considered himself better than, different than, and more wonderful than anyone else. Wasn't Jesus Christ a perfect example of humility?

Do I think Jesus Christ went around judging people based on their beliefs?

I don't think so. I believe Jesus was full of love and forgiveness, light and faith, spirituality and wonder.

So what about these ministers at these two funerals who invited hundreds of people to "the only way that works"?

I don't know what to say. It is not my place to judge.

But it is my place to determine what works for me.

Love works for me.

Faith works for me.

Spirituality works for me.

Respect works for me.

Understanding works for me.

Compassion works for me.

I don't care if you're Buddhist, Christian, Jewish, or Muslim. I don't care what you believe so long as you are kind and loving, tolerant and compassionate, and peaceful within yourself and to your fellows.

I aspire to these principles, and I don't care what label you use to aspire to the same.

Let me then extend my own invitation now.

You are cordially invited to live a spiritual life.

Here is your invitation to the spiritual.

Would you like to walk down a spiritual path? You may do so if you wish.

Would you like to live by the principles of love and compassion, faith and tolerance, Truth and simplicity, peace and hope? If you do, please feel free to do so.

Would you like to choose your own path that works for you, regardless of what others might perceive as necessary for you? Please do so if you would like.

Would you like to find your own set of beliefs, so long as they might not inflict harm or hurt upon your fellows or yourself? That is your choice.

Please do not feel that you must RSVP to this invitation.  Your walk along the path of your own life will be RSVP enough.

You are cordially invited to make your own choices when it comes to religion and spirituality.

I wish for you in the process that you might find the light and peace of a power greater than yourself that might bestow upon you the gifts of freedom, of joy, of love, and of all the gifts and blessings you deserve.

Amen.

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