Do you believe in a god? In human souls or spirits? In an afterlife? In some mysterious force beyond what we can see?
Are your beliefs part of a religion or spiritual tradition? Or is your faith something more personal? How would you describe what you believe in?
In a new series, The New York Times is exploring how people experience religion and spirituality today. In one article from the series, “The Moments That Shape Our Beliefs,” The Times asked celebrities, faith leaders, writers and readers to share a significant time in their religious and spiritual lives. Lauren Jackson introduces the piece:
In a divided country, Americans still have one thing in common: They believe.
Almost all Americans — 92 percent of adults — say they experience some form of spiritual belief, whether in a god, human souls or spirits, an afterlife, or something “beyond the natural world,” according to a major report published recently by the Pew Research Center.
“I can’t think of anything else this many Americans agree on,” Penny Edgell, a sociologist at the University of Minnesota, said.
But what does this widespread spirituality actually look like in practice? Experts have tried to answer the question in surveys and studies. By necessity, they have sorted millions of people into fixed identity categories, like Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, agnostic, atheist and “nothing in particular.” What these labels can sometimes miss, however, is the rich complexity of our inner worlds.
In reality, believing is a messy, evolving process. The Times wanted to capture how belief takes many forms, both inside and outside of religion. We spent the last year working on a project intended to capture the landscape of contemporary religion and spirituality. We spoke with dozens of high-profile figures, religious leaders and writers. We also asked Times readers to tell us about a moment that shaped their beliefs. More than 4,000 responded.
Serena Alagappan, 27, Brooklyn, N.Y., writer and editor
I was raised both Jewish and Hindu, so I had to form my own hybrid faith. I did so through prayer. When I prayed, I thought of Hinduism’s Ganesha, the elephant-headed deity who, according to my picture books, mischievously traveled the world on a mouse. But I also thought of my grandpa’s throaty reading of Hebrew transliterations at the Passover Seder. Occasionally, I even reflected on an image of my school’s chapel, and its wooden cross, as I hummed the chorus from Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” These images, melodies and texts would weave in my mind until my prayer ended.
Kristin Chenoweth, 56, New York City, actress and singer
When my mom was diagnosed with cancer for a third time, I prayed aloud: “God, are you there? I don’t hear you anywhere. And I don’t see you anywhere today.” The response was real, and it brought me to my knees. I was overwhelmed with a feeling that I was heard, that my prayer hadn’t just gone into the void. I felt God was asking me to have faith, to support my mom and keep speaking about him publicly. So I did. My mom is still with us today.
Nada Zohdy, 36, Washington, D.C., nonprofit manager
Reading the Quran — in English, on my own, cover to cover — is what made me a Muslim. I was sitting alone in our home office, cross-legged on the floor, in the stillness of a cold Michigan winter night. Still, I felt connected in a real way to people I was reading about who had lived thousands of years ago and had grappled with the same questions that I was asking. I remember closing the book and looking up through the window at the sky, full of stars. In that moment of peace and solitude, I came to accept my faith, not just as something I had grown up with, but something that I was proactively going to commit to.
Hannah Johnson, 24, San Diego
I used to live and work on Catalina Island, teaching school children about the local ecology. I saw a lot of incredible things living in a remote bay on Catalina: jaw-dropping sunsets, endemic foxes, colorful invertebrates and howling gales. But the best thing was the sky. My favorite lesson to teach was an astronomy night hike because it gave me the opportunity to tell stories. At the end of our lessons, I’d choose a constellation and share the myth associated with it. I believe that these stories about the sky connect us to the generations of people who have done the same thing while sitting and looking up in the dark.
Anne Belott, 41, Greensboro, N.C., project manager
I had cancer three times in as many years as a young adult, and I rejected all religion. In response, I turned to what was in front of me: rivers, blue skies, forests. I marvel in the beauty we are given, and I believe science is part of that magic.
Casper ter Kuile, 38, Brooklyn, N.Y., author
Ritual has power. I learned that lesson early on. Growing up in the English countryside, my family wasn’t religious, but we observed folk celebrations that gave meaning to each season and structure to our days. We danced around the maypole on May Day, gathered around a St. John’s Fire at Midsummer and sang in the streets at Michaelmas. These rituals imbued my life with magic. I grew up and left these rituals behind, but my life felt shallow without them. So I’ve made my own: Each week, I keep a tech sabbath to take a break from my inbox. Last December, I squeezed 68 friends and family into a 1-bedroom apartment for a Christmas carol singalong. I’ll do it again this year.
Greg Pierce, 63, Austin, Texas, author
I try it all: I meditate daily, I pray, I read spiritual writings, I get in nature, experience the awe of this incredible planet and the grandeur of music. I still struggle daily with being human.
Students 13 and older in the United States and Britain, and 16 and older elsewhere, are invited to comment. All comments are moderated by the Learning Network staff, but please keep in mind that once your comment is accepted, it will be made public and may appear in print.
