Over the next twenty years I questioned numerous people and was amazed at the variety of responses I got. From the erudite to the coarse; from the humble and hopeful to the proud and pretentious; from the intensely believing to the scornfully skeptical, the spectrum was wide indeed. Where and how was I to start the sifting process? To stand before such a myriad of voices unable to decide whether to listen to just one, or a few, or the whole array – that was my first dilemma.

More than that, my burning issue, what I really wanted, was solace -- a safe, sturdy foundation that would weather the storms that inevitably arose when the going got tough and the complexities of life demanded an explanation. For when the haunting questions began their relentless pounding, my upbringing, although stable, was not enough to withstand it. The answers did not become satisfactory just because they came from even those I held in high esteem. Conviction could not be passed on in the genes, nor could I hope to catch it second hand like a contagion. I would have to struggle with each question myself. That foundation, to be stable and meaningful, would have to be personally and painstakingly laid.

But was there a foundation that I could hope to find? What if there was no such thing? Well then, I wanted to know that for myself. And if there was one, I felt inwardly driven to find it.