I do not have many regrets in my life, at least in regard to the big decisions: getting married, getting unmarried, having children, attending various schools, working first as a teacher, then as a psychotherapist, and most recently as a minister. These decisions have been to the good, more or less. But I do have some regrets that stick in my memory, as I move into this New Year. I tell myself these are little things, but they are not, for they have taught me how I should live.

I have been retired from the parish ministry for over two years now, but I remember so many of my congregants vividly. I have been thinking about Margo, an elderly woman of refinement and wealth, but totally unpretentious and simple in her living, and uncommonly generous to the church. I had visited her over the years, as she went into an inevitable decline. Because of a lack of oxygen to her brain, she began to drift away from time to time. When I visited her, I wondered if she knew who I was. I busied myself with the various tasks of my ministry, and I realized that months had gone by without my seeing Margo. One day as I left the church, I had a strong inclination to visit her. I should’ve known to follow my intuitive sense and drive directly to her home, but I did not. I was tired. I could always go another day, I reasoned. But of course I could not. The next day I got the call saying that she had died. I regret not saying goodbye to someone I loved. Sometimes “now” is not just the best time, but the only time.

Another memory. I had been in a relationship with a man during most of my time in graduate school. He was good for me in many ways. But the relationship was star-crossed and fated to end, so I had decided to break off the relationship. I still cared for this man, of course, but all logic worked against us, and I knew I was doing the right thing by leaving him. A few months into our separation, he called to tell me that his father had just died. He asked me to cancel my plans for the weekend and come to him. I was torn. I considered his request and decided not to go. I wanted to break the bond between us, and I thought it would be unwise for me to be with him during this tender time. I left him alone with his great sadness. I regret not going to be with my friend.

A third memory. This incident happened many years ago, when I was a young mother, but I remember it keenly. I had gotten a puppy for my two little boys — an adorable black and white soft, fluffy kind of puppy — but as it turned out, they did not want a puppy. When I ask my older son why, he said, “I’d rather have a goldfish. You don’t have to take a goldfish for walk.” So I had to find a new home for the puppy. I put an ad in the local paper, and soon someone called saying they had a good home for the dog. When I got to the house, however, I noted that it was cluttered and dirty, that the children were half clothed, and a couple of skinny dogs were already there. I should have scooped up my puppy and made my exit. But I was raised to be polite, and I did not have the courage to tell this family I felt their home was unfit, so I left our beautiful little puppy with them. I regret not protecting an innocent creature that was dependent upon me.

In each case, my heart was telling me what I needed to do. And in each case, I allowed other considerations to overrule my intuitive sense of what was right. I have learned over and over again in this world that the heart knows a deeper truth than reason can reach. Connection matters. Caring and kindness trump every rationale.

I am interviewing all Portland mayoral candidates in regard to their history and the development of their values. I’m asking questions like, “Can you remember a teacher who influenced you in some important way?” “If you could meet anyone in history, now deceased, who would that person be, and what one question would you ask?” “What is one book you have read recently that has touched you deeply, and why?” These 30 min. interviews will not concern politics or issues, but rather will help the listener know the candidate better as a human being. If you want more than a soundbite, go to Raw Faith Radio.

Kino Lorber, the distributor for our film “Raw Faith,” is making the film available online, plus the DVD, during the holiday period. Find out details: alivemindcinema.com/rawfaith.

I want to announce that I’m now doing an on-line radio show: “Raw Faith Radio,” concerning matters of the spirit. The broadcast is Fridays at 9:00 AM and again at noon, but all the past shows on there and available for your computer, or to download for your I-pod. I have done shows on forgiveness, on anger, on sports and spirituality, and several others, so far. I generally start with a short program about the subject of the day, and then do a Q&A, and sometimes I do interviews.

Vera Farmiga, in her directorial debut “Higher Ground” about a woman who has fallen in with a group of Christian fundamentalists, gets all of it right: the language, the baptismal rites, the Christian “marriage counselor,” the attractive patriarchal pastor. I should know – I grew up Southern Baptist in North Louisiana, and so I’ve experienced this movie. In fact, I found the film creepy in its authenticity. It took me back to a place I didn’t want to go.

Farmiga plays the lead role of Corinne, who becomes pregnant as an 18-year-old, marries, and after nearly losing her child in an accident, gives herself to Jesus and a group of Protestant evangelicals. The strength of this film is that we really like most of these individuals – they are warm and caring, and within the structures they have chosen, absolutely morally consistent. We never feel that the film takes an easy swipe at any of the characters – with the possible exception of the marriage counselor – and we see people, like ourselves, who are struggling to find their way through personal conflicts and the moral thickets of contemporary life. Because they are fully rounded human beings, they are believable, not caricatures, as one might expect in a film of this kind. Farmiga plays her role with no hint of irony, and with great feminine beauty and sensitivity.

Corinne’s problem is that she is highly intelligent, a reader of literature, and a woman who is deeply intuitive. She wants to be a believer, and she calls on God to speak to her and lead her, but her God is not a God of easy answers. When she prays, silence is the only response. And she can make no theological sense at all of the tragedy which visits her best friend. When the grieving congregation sings “All is well with my soul,” she tries to join them, but the words stick in her throat. All is not well with her soul. She is sensual and sexual in a social context of repression. She is a woman of subtle intellect thrown in with people who know all the answers all the time. She is with a husband who fails to be her equal spiritually, intellectually, and sexually.

As we watch Corinne struggle, we wonder whether or not she will escape. After all, these are her chosen people, and she is loyal to the core. She would rather deny herself than to deny them. We understand this impulse, for all of us want community, want home. But she finds she must try to save her own soul.

I left the theater very troubled. I remembered the priest who told me I was going to hell when I left the Catholic Church at the tender age of twelve. I thought of the gay pastor I knew who died of AIDS, but was never able to reveal his plight, or his sexual orientation, to his congregation. I thought of the evangelical seminary professor who assured me that Jesus was the only way to salvation, and that Gandhi is in hell. I recalled a conversation with my fundamentalist brother, who told me that women should not lead at church.

There was no intentional ill will or meanness of spirit in these people: the priest cared about me and the family; the congregation was devoted to their minister; the professor was warm and friendly; my brother loves me dearly. So what is the problem?

The problem has to do with the human consequences of fundamentalist values: these groups value rigid belief over human good. But any religious group that would deny others the opportunity to grow and contribute because of their gender or sexual orientation, which are God-given, is not a life-giving religion. Fundamentalists seem to be oblivious of the harm they do, and lay it all to the individuals who are “disobeying God,” thereby bringing the harm upon themselves.

Contrary to a liberal relativism, I do not believe that all religious beliefs are equal and worthy of respect. Faith healers in Oregon are now on trial for the death of a child, one of several children who have succumbed to the beliefs of a sect ironically called the Followers of Christ. Faith healing, of course, is an extreme religious position, but I would suggest that every belief system should be judged by its effect on the individual and on society. Does it help the individual break barriers and flourish, or does it create barriers to growth, spiritual and otherwise?

There are still children having nightmares because they have been told they are going to hell. There are adolescents becoming suicidal after being rejected by their fundamentalist families because of their sexual orientation. There are far too many Corrines out there, still struggling to make sense of a faith that denies both body and spirit.

Every religious group and every religious leader must ask one simple question of our faith and practice: does it harm or does it heal? With subtlety and excellence, the film “Higher Ground” asks us to think on these things.

Hear Marilyn Sewell on Raw Faith Radio.