On God, Mystery, and Trust
From childhood questions about who created God to a lifetime of reflection on faith, institutions, and human longing, this essay explores the enduring mystery at the heart of existence. If certainty about God, justice, or the meaning of suffering remains beyond our grasp, what remains is trust, the quiet willingness to live in alignment with deeper principles even when the architecture of the universe remains hidden. In a time when many are turning away from institutions yet still searching for meaning, this essay asks whether faith might be less about answers and more about learning how to live within Mystery.
When I was a young girl, I used to wonder: if God created the world, who created God? And who created the one who created God? The question moved in circles, turtles all the way down. No final turtle. No solid ground. Just an endless reaching.
In religious school, I learned the stories of creation, justice, and mercy, and of power, of suffering, and the ways of an inscrutable God. Some stirred me; others left me puzzled. Over time, I came to understand that the stories carried deeper meanings and had been studied, interpreted, and reinterpreted through brilliant, flawed, and sometimes misguided human understanding.
But let’s face it, despite faith and willingness, the standards of behavior we are taught are never quite lived up to. The problem of injustice has never been resolved. And we are still struggling to understand suffering, inequality—and last but not least— whether there is any purpose to life.
And yet, there are always people willing to tell us what God wants, some sincere and others cynical, self-serving. In the words of Leonard Cohen: “killers in high places say their prayers out loud.”
And yet, I have never lost my faith. I questioned. I’ve stepped away from certain forms. But I never stopped feeling accompanied.
As the years unfolded, and I experienced love and loss, despair and renewal, my understanding shifted. God is no longer a figure within a narrative for me. God is Mystery. Presence. Beauty. Severity. Order. Chaos. Sometimes the Mystery is a benevolent palpable Presence in my life, and other times that Presence is not evident. The Mystery easily contains opposites.
On Institutions, Principles, and the Hunger That Remains
Many people have turned away from institutional religion, seeking meaning and belonging elsewhere; some toward Eastern traditions, others toward secular philosophies or political movements. In every tradition, some have found genuine solace and transformation. Others have fallen into the hands of those who exploit their hunger. The sheen has fallen from many of our institutions, and yet the impulse to seek and to follow persists. We are, it seems, wired for devotion. The question is only to what we are devoted..
Some of the most prominent voices of spiritual renewal in our time have proven as fallible as the institutions they critiqued. When those we’ve trusted as guides reveal ‘feet of clay,’ the disillusionment can be profound. Looking for freedom, we sometimes find a subtler captivity. Looking for connection, we sometimes find betrayal.
And yet the principles themselves survive. Strip away the institutions and the personalities, and certain truths remain. You find them in Lao Tzu and the Tao, in the Ten Commandments, in Stoic philosophy, in the teachings of Jesus, in the Abrahamic traditions, in the wisdom of the East, and in the indigenous traditions. These teachings stand on their own; they do not require institutional support or charismatic leadership. They depend on our adherence to the truths that are voiced and on the quality and persistence of our devotion.
As the French say: “Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.” The more it changes, the more it is the same. Stray from enduring principles in a life or in a civilization, and unwanted consequences follow.
Most of us, scientists, theologians, and ordinary people alike, accept that the universe operates according to an underlying order. Understanding that order and deriving rules from that understanding is challenging. Intense arguments, including wars, have arisen over which rules are the correct ones; and whether our individual lives are watched over and guided by a heavenly being; and if the “arc of history” does actually “bend toward justice”; or whether we are essentially on our own, experiencing random events.
What I keep returning to is this: there is a system. Working within it — with humility, with attention, tends to bring us closer to the life we want. Some of us forget that we find happiness in living in harmony, not in conquest.
If we are to live in harmony, we must accept the responsibilities of our participation; that we are not alone in the world, that we are not superior to it, that only love and compassion— not conquest and power — can satisfy the gnawing hunger within for connection and meaning.
Faith, for me, is not certainty. It is not a guarantee against suffering. Life remains unpredictable, tender and harsh, and often bewildering.
Goodness does not always shield us. Belief, or the lack thereof, does not divide humanity neatly into the virtuous and the lost.
What carries me is trust. Trust that I am part of a larger field; labeling it God, nature, consciousness, does not alter the Mystery. I trust that even without understanding the architecture of existence, I can align inwardly with steadiness. When I rest there, I can approach life with openness. In a world that often amplifies fear and vigilance, I can stand fast in love; my body recognizes coherence and rejoices.
Why is there suffering? Why is there beauty? Why does light coexist with shadow?
“The world… is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a long path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment; every sin already carries grace within it, all small children are potential old men, all sucklings have death within them, all dying people, eternal life. One person can’t see how far another is on the way; the Buddha exists in the robber and dice player; the robber exists in the Brahmin.” Siddhartha (Herman Hesse)
Mystery includes everything. I feel accompanied in that Mystery, even in the vastness. I no longer struggle to solve what may not be solvable.
I cannot know the origins of the Universe. The human mind may never step beyond causation. I do not know what follows this life. But I live as though what I do matters.
And that is enough
©2026 Shulamit Elson