I have been thinking about apostasy, which dictionary.com defines as "a total desertion of or departure from one's religion, principles, party, cause, etc." While accurate to a degree, I think that such definitions cannot recognize the importance of nuanced language. Of course there are those whose rejection of their religion is so visible and powerful that they are excommunicated (Martin Luther, famously) but excommunication is a message that those in power are displeased, and not necessarily that the person has lost belief (Luther was critiquing the Papacy and the Catholic Church, but he was not rejecting Christ).

If one is to examine apostasy more closely, I think that it ranges from the indifference that people display when born into a religion which they never practice nor truly understand, to the complete rejection and attack by someone who moves into some form of vitriolic atheism. In the faith to which I belong, very rarely someone is designated a Covenant Breaker. This is when the person is so disenchanted with the faith that he or she becomes its public opponent and attacks some of its most sacred beliefs; this step, ie being declared a Covenant Breaker, is so extreme that it can only be done through a lengthy process under the explicit guidelines of the head of the faith, the Universal House of Justice. It's a rare and deeply saddening move.

This is not the kind of "apostasy" about which I have been thinking. I have been thinking more of the differences in perception of faith and its truths, and for this, I will tell a story. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, my parents encountered the Baha'i teachings in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Both encountered the 'new' faith independently and accepted it before they met one another. They have described to us the ethos of that time: Dad was a very active member of the United Church of Canada, and his parents, his brother and his sister spent almost all of their leisure time involved in church activities. Mother was a member of a deeply Baptist family; my grandmother was deeply reliant on her Bible.

Over a period of some years, they each encountered Baha'is, Dad while in high school, Mom through her sister, who had gone to the United States and worked in conjunction with a Baha'i there, a Persian named Ali Kuli Khan. Meanwhile, Dad's friends, Elizabeth Manser and the Robarts brothers, were holding "firesides" or gatherings at which they shared the message of the new teachings. Dad was incensed, and set out to study this faith with the intention of debunking it and rescuing his friends from what he perceived to be a cult; Mom was initially disinterested, until one day she realized that her sister Ruth had tried to share something very important and that she had virtually ignored it. At this time she began to study the Baha'i Faith, attending firesides at the home of Laura and Victor Davis, about whom an excellent biography has recently been published by Marlene Macke. It was at one of these gatherings that she first met my father, in 1954. The rest, as they say, is history, although that story is beautifully told in my first book, Partners in Spirit.

So here were these two young Christians, not atypical of their times, and they both, through their respective processes, ultimately "declared" themselves to be Baha'is. From the perspective of my United Church grandparents and my Bible-toting maternal Grandma, this must have seemed like apostasy. Seriously, as a parent, I begin to gain more appreciation for my respective grandparents, at the time; they must have been deeply concerned, angry, and really worried that their children were involved in a misguided, little-known cult.

Those of you who know enough about the Baha'i Faith will know that this was not the case; my parents were simply amongst one of the earlier waves of people to embrace the Baha'i Faith's broad social principles, which in turn are based on the stunning writings of the Founder, Baha'u'llah, and the explanations of His son 'Abdu'l-Baha and subsequently, 'Abdu'l-Baha's grandson, Shoghi Effendi. That these names are very strange to those first hearing them is sure, but as one wit describes it, or words to this effect, Do you think Christ was an easy name for the early Jews? (Sears, God Loves Laughter). In fact, as my grandparents learned more and more about the faith that their children were espousing (in my father's family, both he and his sister became lifelong Baha'is; in my mother's, she and all three of her sisters), my maternal grandparents themselves accepted the Baha'i teachings and my paternal grandmother became very sympathetic.

When you think about it, though, and I do, I think about what it must be like for the parents, and the society, of people who choose a "new" faith. Of course, the Baha'i Faith, in some ways, is very comforting when those parents truly understand it, but I try and imagine myself back in the time of Christ or Muhammad. Can you imagine what it must have been like for the parents of Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and all the sainted Apostles? Their children were following a simple fisherman who was doing very weird things (destroying graven images, and the like) in a highly regimented colonized society where Judaism was the dominant norm (in its many forms). To become a Christian was a truly revolutionary and potentially life-threatening declaration, and would certainly have been perceived as apostasy; it is only now, after two thousand years, that we can almost take it for granted, at least in the 'Christian' parts of the world. Similarly, those early Muslims: following an illiterate into battle to defend, essentially, the ideals of monotheism and new forms of justice. People must have thought they were crazy! Some still do. Yet Muhammad established an entirely new order, with far-reaching implications including, some have argued, the rise of the Renaissance and the scientific insights of the Enlightenment (the principles of questioning began from earlier days than we might historically think). This is a necessarily brief and simple overview of centuries of religious history, and does not examine the other great religions (Buddhism, Hinduism, First Nations spirituality) but does attempt to say, however simply, that to change one's faith is viewed as apostasy by those in that faith. But what if, in doing so, you are making a good choice?

So I've been thinking about apostasy, partly because I am living around people who, in some cases, have never heard of a Baha'i, and I gain a further appreciation of how truly weird it must seem. My husband left the Catholic church to become a Baha'i; he has several aunts and an uncle who are nuns and a priest. I doubt if they're even aware that he is a Baha'i, but if they were, they would surely wonder. Why? What is it about Baha'i teaching which would motivate a secular humanist Quebec Catholic to choose to follow it? I am the daughter of "apostates": people who left 'respectable' Christian churches to follow a religion originating from the Middle East (hotbed of dissent and sometimes, anarchy, from the perception of the West). Why switch from being good Christians to followers of the Baha'i Faith? It's just...weird.

It seems to me that the only fair way to know whether apostasy is apostasy is to look at what people are doing when they choose faith. One has to subject the belief system to criteria which are somewhat separated from blind acceptance of the status quo. How can a Baha'i claim to accept the teachings of Christ, but not call him or herself a Christian? How can a Jew become a Baha'i (as did my beloved friend L.) without betraying her history? How can a Muslim become a Baha'i without rejecting Muhammad? How can an atheist believe in God the Creator, called by any name, when the "science of reason" makes such a premise seem so unreasonable?

To apostasize completely is to reject out of hand, and a Baha'i does not do that. A Baha'i still affirms the Divine origins of those Messengers of the past who brought world-shaking messages from the One Creator in Whom we believe. A Baha'i can be simultaneously a Buddhist, a Hindu, a Jew, a Christian, and a Muslim: that's what a Baha'i is, actually. One who believes in the importance of unity as a central principle of God's gradual revelation, throughout history, of the vibrating influence of spirit; one who recognizes that Baha'u'llah spoke with His brothers of the past to give the word of God.

None of this is "official" and perhaps I have made mistakes...this is just me, thinking aloud onto the page, about what an apostate really is. So if you want to view the "gospel", so to speak, you're better to go to www.bahai.org or some other legitimate site, or ask a Baha'i near you. I wouldn't recommend asking your rabbi, minister or mullah: by definition, their job description requires you to stay where you are, and they may not have investigated the 'new' claims without that agenda. There are, of course, members of the clergy who themselves are apostates: in our faith, George Townshend comes to mind. He has become iconic of those Christians of a high profile who accepted the teachings of Baha'u'llah.

However, I reiterate: I think it's way too simple to believe in dichotomies. To believe, either he is this, or she is that. I think that's simplistic. I think that religious, spiritual experience lies on an ever-shifting, ever-nuanced timeline of possibilities, and if we claim to be open-minded, it's important to check out what might be possible. My parents did that, and I am proud of them; I often ask myself, if I had been born in the time of Christ, would I have been able to recognize Him? Or Moses, or Krishna, or Muhammad? Quite frankly, I am doubtful. I don't know what type of mind and heart it requires to make such a change in one's world-view. I was given the Baha'i teachings as an article of faith from childhood, and I chose them as an article of personal belief in adulthood. My husband made his choice for different reasons, and I wonder if I would have had his courage, in his shoes.

"Ask, and it shall be given." It's an interesting principle of spiritual truth. What, in this day and age, are we asking? And what are we asking for? Baha'is simply ask their families and friends to investigate with an open mind. There will be elements you may not like; there may be deal-breakers. There is always, in my mind, the need for the resolution of paradox, inherent in any faith's true complexity. Yet, the bottom line becomes, is it possible? Is Baha'u'llah's claim legitimate? Could it be? And if so, how will I know it? How can I feel it? How will I believe it? And if I do, what will I do about it?

'Abdu'l-Baha says, "Little by little, day by day." This is my little, on this day. I think it's important to think. I think it's important, if we say that we are a part of something, to be a part of it, for all our many mistakes, for all our struggles, for resolving all our demons, and engaging all our angels. I think it's important that we not use words like "apostasy" without really knowing what they mean, and asking ourselves, "Could it be true?"

Which brings me to truth, an examination for another day. Now there's a paradox!