“Why?”
It’s a question I’ve been asking for as long as I can remember. As a child, it often got me into trouble. ‘Stop asking so many questions,’ they would say. But I couldn’t help it. There was something about the world that begged to be understood, something just out of reach that I needed to grasp. While other kids were satisfied with simple answers, I was never content to stop digging. And though the adults around me grew weary of my constant questioning, I never stopped. Now, decades later, that same insatiable curiosity has led me here—to a life spent exploring the biggest, most profound questions of all, as a theologian who is still asking, ‘Why?’”

“Why do you have to put a nickel in that?” I asked my father as he fished through his pockets, his face etched with annoyance. We had just parked our car at a metered space, and I sensed something about the situation was bothering him. As a child, I couldn’t understand why he was frustrated—so I did what I always did: I asked. His response was swift and terse: ‘Quit asking why about everything!’ But even then, I knew I wouldn’t stop. That question— ‘why?’—had a hold on me. It was the thread I pulled to unravel the world’s mysteries, and though it often got me into trouble, it also led me to where I am today—a theologian who never stopped asking, ‘Why?’”

My fascination with that simple question— ‘why?’—deepened as I grew older. I was captivated by the mnemonic used by reporters and investigators: the five W’s and one H—who, what, when, where, why, and how. These questions were, to me, the key to understanding. But it was ‘why’ that was most important. ‘Why’ wasn’t just about the facts but the motive and meaning behind the event. This realization became a guiding principle in my life. I wasn’t just interested in what happened or how—it was why that captured my imagination.”

“Why” became more than just a question for me. It drove me to dig deeper—It became a way of life, a lens through which I viewed the world. I think 'why' drew me to the Christian religion and, ultimately, the study of theology. It seemed to address the most profound ‘why’ questions. Why do we exist? Why do we suffer? Why do we search for meaning? These questions were not merely academic for me; they were deeply personal, driving me to explore the vast tapestry of human experience, behavior, and belief.

When I was in seminary at the School of Theology of the University of the South, I discovered that theology was much more than just doctrine and dogma—it was a disciplined practice of seeking truth, of constantly asking and re-asking those fundamental ‘why’ questions in the ever-brightening light of new knowledge and understanding. At the same time, I realized that many traditional responses to the why questions no longer resonated with me. I was drawn to the idea that our search for meaning must be based upon a disciplined commitment to the truth grounded in a critical, rational, and empirical understanding of the data of our existence.

As I finished seminary, I found myself in a difficult and uncertain place. I had entered my studies already struggling with the traditional Christian cosmology, hoping that deeper theological education would provide the reasons I needed to accept it. Instead, while I gained a profound appreciation for the Biblical narrative as literature, my discomfort with it as historically factual only deepened. Seminary taught me the beauty and incredible power of agape (a form of love advocated by Homer, who credited it to the gods. It is the greatest idea humanity ever had) and the agency of a community dedicated to it. It also taught me that praxis—living out one’s beliefs—requires a foundation in truth. The purpose of religion is to emerge meaning, and meaning built on anything less than truth cannot endure. But I was still trying to decipher the truth of the Church’s narrative.

I graduated and was ordained as a Deacon and Priest in 1978. As I began my parish work, I searched for a way forward.  I was still trying to decipher the truth of the Church’s narrative, and this struggle intensified as I stepped into parish life and ministry. The dissonance between my theological education and the expectations of the Church became increasingly difficult to reconcile. I believed in the essential values of Christianity—particularly agape, the unconditional love that forms the core of the faith. They provided, on their own, profound meaning, not just for others but for me as well. Many people were open to exploring their faith if it was approached with love and respect for their cherished values.

Yet, I also encountered significant resistance. The Church’s leadership and much of the laity seemed more intent on preserving their established understanding of truth than joining me in this search. My efforts to engage with the theological thinking I had learned in seminary were often met with fear of change. I was increasingly isolated, with little to no support, and I questioned whether I could continue in the Church and Christianity with integrity.

I had no answers; I had more questions than ever. But I knew that the path I was on wasn’t leading me toward the truth I sought. In 1994, after much soul-searching, I made the painful decision to renounce Christianity. This was not a decision taken lightly or with certainty. Still, I felt compelled to make it because I could no longer align myself with an institution that seemed more committed to maintaining its version of truth than seeking it. This was not the end of my journey, but rather a turning point that eventually led to the creation of Opthē, where the search for truth continues, guided by agape and the principles of rational inquiry.

Opthē is a framework for those who, like me, recognize the importance of religion in human life and are driven by the pursuit of truth but not seeking easy answers. Opthē is rooted in the values of agape, service to all life and the Earth on which it depends, and the rigorous application of rational critical thinking. It is a space where we can explore the ‘why’ question in a way that honors our intellectual integrity and our deep need for meaning.”

Opthē is not just my path; it’s an invitation to anyone driven by the same relentless curiosity, seeking meaning in a world that doesn’t offer easy answers."