Faith

There’s something that’s been bouncing around my mind a lot for the last few days, and it’s something I feel pretty strongly about, so I’m gonna be serious for a few minutes about it.

Most people know me know that I was raised Catholic, and got 12 years of Catholic education. I never went through Confirmation, but you can’t be raised in an environment like that without finding yourself identifying with it, especially because my mother’s mother was a practicing Catholic who sent her own kids to Catholic school.

Initially, faith wasn’t a complicated thing for me, and I wanted it to be. I remember in sixth grade our teacher told us that questioning our faith was a way of showing growth and maturity. And I specifically remember sitting on the porch swing on a beautiful day and thinking, “Well, what if it’s not true? What if we’re wrong and other Christians are right?” and various thoughts of that nature. But I distinctly remember thinking, “I’m doing this because I’m told I’m supposed to, not because I really doubt my religion. God is real and I’m Catholic, that’s that.” I was even an altar girl, and I loved it. I remember the Masses I would serve, and making it a point to stand straight with my hands folded at my waist, to kneel nicely and not sit back on my legs like I would do in the pew, and to bow deeply and respectfully before the altar, because I wanted God to see me doing my best. Plus I got to play with the big candle lighter, which was fun, and the priest, Father Tom, was super nice and every so often, servers would get to go have pizza in the rectory or even get out of class to serve a funeral Mass. I also remember watching the consecration of the Host very earnestly. I would try to picture the Holy Spirit coming down from the beautiful domed mural above the altar and entering the bread and wine. Being all of 10 or a little older, I didn’t know the Catholic Church’s position on transubstantiation, or if I did it was very easy to accept. And I always thought one day I’d be able to see it, or feel it, or tell the difference in some way, but I’m not sure I ever did. But my bridge with the Church hadn’t even started yet. That waited for high school.

It might have been partly because of my ADD. I always felt bad during Mass because even on my best day there was no way I could keep myself focused on the ritual and being prayerful the entire hour. I fell asleep one year at Easter Mass during the homily, but that was a rarity. Usually, I just fidgeted and let my mind drift, and would feel guilty when that would happen. I wanted to feel close to God, why couldn’t I just pay attention? And Mass in high school was in a gym with about 800 other kids, so it was easy to sit with a group of friends and mostly mess around. Of course, some of my friends got into Wicca and Buddhism, and I read about both and even tried a little Wicca on by way of reading books, but was never really able to follow through much. But there were elements of both I either understood or liked. For instance, spell casting in Wicca just seemed to me a very active form of prayer, an extra element of control. Our senior year Christian Living teacher led us through meditation in class on Fridays, and I liked that as well. I had a couple of friends who were very in love with their faith, something that always gave me a stirring of envy, but I didn’t seem to get the same feeling they did in the little chapel, even though I wanted it.

After high school, and a funeral Mass for a friend, the first Mass I went to was when John Paul II was dying. He’d always seemed like a good, kind man, and as any kind of Catholic, I wanted to go to be a part of a community to acknowledge his passing. And I was glad I went. But I didn’t feel compelled to start going to Mass regularly as a result.

Then, a couple of years ago, during Lent, I decided to really throw myself in and give it another try. One of my work friends was being confirmed and given First Communion at the Easter Vigil, and our co-worker, another convert, had that spark I remembered from my friend in high school, and I wanted it. I went to Mass every Sunday during Lent, and tried to pray the rosary every day. I thought, “God, if this is where you want me to be, show me. Help me feel it, because I want to find the right place for me.” I was hoping God would flash me a big old neon sign and make it obvious, because apparently I’m not that observant in these matters. At the Easter Vigil, I knelt and cried, and prayed, “Alright, God, I’ve got nothing to offer you right now but my brokenness, but if you want it, it’s yours.” I felt better thinking that, but I didn’t feel that revelatory “This is where I belong” feeling I’d been hoping for.

Depending on how you look at it, there are a lot of reasons for that. Catholics might say I’m stubborn, since I don’t accept the whole Catechism and teaching of the Church. I’m pro-Choice, though I hope to never have to make that decision for myself, and am thoroughly in favor of birth control. I’m pro-gay marriage. I’m your typical bleeding-heart liberal. I know there are people like me in the Church, but I find it so frustrating because I want to find a place where I feel like the people around me believe like I do and not like a fraud. And I don’t want to change those beliefs necessarily. It’s not that I don’t want to be open to that inner voice. It’s that I have a really hard time in believing in a God that would create all of us as imperfect creatures, who is supposed to be like a parent to us, but will only love us if we do things His way. Or, correction, He’ll love us, but He’ll still choose to separate us from Him forever if we don’t get it right.

Dating an atheist hasn’t been easy all the time either, as a person with a background of religion if not a working location for it. There are lots of logical reasons not to believe in a God. It certainly simplifies things. Stuff just happens, the whys are all scientifically linked, and there’s meaning to be found in that, too. I like the idea that the molecules that make up me will go be a part of things forever, regardless of what happens to my soul when I die. The easiest thing in the world to do would be to just let logic explain everything, and stop thinking so much about the rest of it.

But I can’t.

Because deep down, in my heart of hearts, I do believe in something. I believe that God, or whatever you want to call him/her/it, has been with me in my worst moments. There have been a few personal instances where I felt God hear me and make doors open in my life that needed to open. Many times have I been outside on a beautiful day and felt overwhelmingly grateful to whatever it is that caused all this to be and caused me to be there to appreciate it. I’ve seen love and compassion from others that was like being able to see a part of what God is like. And the philosophy that I’ve come to in myself and am trying to make work with the part of my brain that’s programmed to follow rules is this: There is no wrong. (I feel guilty even typing that. Catholicism runs deep!) If God is infinite and created the entire universe and each and every one of us, wouldn’t it make sense that there would have to be a lot of ways to figure who He is and how to get to Him? And even more importantly, don’t we do more to honor whatever God it is we love and serve by being loving and compassionate towards others? What kind of God do you believe in that wants you to list His grievances to the rest of the world? Don’t you do more to show God by being someone who thinks and learns and loves and screws up and goes back and starts again?

Maybe it’s true that I’m rationalizing my desire to be a heathen, or whatever. Maybe I’m totally wrong and God disapproves of everything I’m saying. And if that’s the case, I’m trying to be open. But I really wish churches spent more time making people feel like they wanted them there and value them as they are and less time making them feel like they get everything wrong.* And that’s my long-winded, non-coherent religious ramble.

*ETA: If you stop by and read this, say hi and let me know if you feel similarly or can see where I'm coming from. It would be nice to feel less lonely. :)

*Hat tip to Revolution Church for being the kind of Church I’m describing. If I’m ever in New York, that’s where I’ll go!

Happy Halloween Homies

Check this out. It's a really good web comic, and a really compelling arc on hell houses. This is why I have so much trouble with faith sometimes, because it makes people act in awful ways to each other.

Teh Sad

My friend Sara had to put her dog Buddah to sleep this morning. He was going into heart failure, and couldn't breathe much anymore. His picture's right below. Ain't he a little cutie pie?

There are very few things I find sadder than losing pets. I know losing people is awful, too, but there's something indescribably different about being the one who decides that it's time to give someone you love something that will put them out of pain and put you in a tremendous amount of pain. It's a pretty awesome responsibility.

I told Sara that I believe God gave us pets so that He could show us how much He loves us. I hope that's true. I used to be so sure about there being a God, but these days I just don't know. But I hope there is one, and I hope I'm right, and I hope Buddah's chilling and getting treats in a big park in the sky.

The Pope Was Mean To Me

Or: my subconscious is on crack. Had a very vivid night of dreaming last night. Please do not confuse vivid for "making sense in any way." Here's the lowdown.

First, I was with a group of people who were going to have a private audience with the Pope. So we all file into the room and are sitting ont the floor, and the Pope's all "What should we talk about?" Someone mentions Islam, and how knowledge is a good thing. The Pope says something about how violent Islam is. I comment, "Excuse me, your Holiness, but Islam has far from cornered the market on atrocities." So then the pope gets up and dumps an ornate vial of ashes in my hands, which I just know are the remains of a Holocaust victim. Not cool, pope you creeped me out! The dream kinda fades from there.

Then I dream I steal a bus to go to my grandma and grandpa's house. Which is three miles from where I live, but whatever. Once there, I talk to my grandma, who is wearing a dark suit. I sit on the floor in front of her, hugging her legs. I ask her how grandpa is and she smiles and looks really happy. I ask about Aunt Ruth, and I think she rolled her eyes but also acknowledged she was fine. But I remember at that point knowing she was slipping away again, and that was sad. and I spent the rest of the dream trying to decide if I'd get away with the bus thing or if I should just turn myself in, since who's going to be mad that I used the bus to go see my dead grandma?

No more peyote before bed. Or something.

Hate. Hate. Hate. Intensely.

I'm sure you've heard of those horrible people who protest soldiers' funerals with their "God hates fags" signs, and they've sunk to an all new level of absolutely repulsive. DO NOT click this unless you're prepared to be furious and lose a shred more faith in all humanity.

The thing that blows my mind about these awful people is how they take the life of a person that they supposedly believe in who was all about love and acceptance, and turn it into a hateful, disgusting pile of shit. They claim that God hates the entire world. Does this exclude them? Are we supposed to believe that God threw Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Evil out of petty anger? The being you supposedly believe in who endowed you with a soul and free will is actually a petty kid with a magnifying glass, burning up ants just so he can feel powerful over something? I don't get how these people try to justify worship to a God who clearly has contempt for the entire creation he made, and who finds his people irredeemable.

These people make me so deeply sad and angry.

Uplifting post in just a bit! I'm not dwelling on this disgusting crap for long.

In Concert

I’m fishing for writing prompts and it’s only November 8, sweet Jesus.

However, the Queen, and her friend Caroline, have both given me great prompts! Huzzah!

What was my first BNL concert? (Barenaked Ladies is tied for my favorite rock band in the world with Guster.)

BNL was actually my first concert ever, and I was 18. My mom way over-sheltered me. I got to go to the concert because I had made a friend at college, Marc, who introduced me to BNL, and, in an effort to get to know each other better (and a foreign city, as Marc is a native Chicagoan), he asked me to go to the show. My mom was hesitant to let me go (yeah, I lived at home, it was cheaper) and it was actually my grandma convinced her that it would be okay. My mom was on the phone with my grandma, and mentioned the show and that I wanted to go see some band about naked people. My grandma responded “Oh, Barenaked Ladies! I saw something about them on VH-1! They’re nice boys, one of them has cancer.” It’s funny, because I’m certain my grandma has never heard a BNL song in her life, but I still owe her one for that. So my mom bought the tickets for Marc and I to see Barenaked Ladies at Conseco Fieldhouse. Marc was extra psyched because Guster was opening for them. I’d never heard of Guster at all, but I was still excited about the concert.

We got there super early, and we still had a great time. Someone across the Fieldhouse yelled, “Whoo, Guster!” before people were even really filing in, and Marc was like, “Whoo! Fellow Jew!” because the guys in Guster all happen to be Jewish (though I don’t think that’s a requirement). After Guster played maybe a 7 song set, I was hooked, went to the lobby, and immediately bought “Lost and Gone Forever,” my first and favorite Guster album.

BNL was promoting the “Maroon” album, so there was a chef flinging donuts ala “Pinch Me” and big weird inflatable things. Marc and I sang and yelled and shouted and essentially just had an awesome night. That’s why no matter how far apart Marc and I end up living, I’ll always owe him one for that first BNL/Guster show.

Up next! Earliest childhood memory! Suggestions? Note me!

Oh Hi, I still exist

Sorry for the dearth of posts lately. Things have been so busy and kind of dumb lately, with some family drama and work being busy, etc. But today, you will get a mishmash of my thoughts! First, a letter:

Dear Pope Benedict,

Listen, I know I'm a lapsed Catholic at best and you have virtually no reason to listen to me, but I really have to get some stuff off my chest. This whole thing, where you decided that Catholics are really the only Christians? Really pisses me off. One of the few things that I felt like the Catholic church really had over some of the other branches of Christianity was that it didn't do that. Before, it was like, "Yeah, you guys have some of the truth, but not all of it, but that's cool, you're on the right track." And your recent statement still sort of says that, but now you're all haughty and snotty about it. You do realize that Christians the world over work under the assumption that Catholics aren't really Christian, right? Like, we're kind of a confused cousin. And I've argued valiantly on the side of Catholics here, even though I don't agree with various parts of Church doctrine, et cetera, because my basic opinion is, God is smart enough to know we're all going to have different ways of finding Him. And no one has any business telling another person that they're wrong, because unless you've actually met the Entity, gotten your picture taken next to Him/Her, and have a t-shirt that says "I met the Creator of the Universe and all I got was this lousy t-shirt, and, oh yeah, affirmation of the Universe," I don't think you should speak with "infallible authority" about His will and truth. I don't know if you remember, but the Church and other major religions have kind of caused some major trouble with shit like that. (Reference: The Inquisition, The Crusades, the Holocaust, etc.) I understand that this is your faith, and it's truth and real to you, but I've found telling other people that they're wrong is not necessarily the most persuasive activity. Dialogue is. And your statement kind of shuts that down, and I don't think that's cool. Also, you sound like a pissy 12 year old by basing your argument on "Since you guys can't trace your origins back to the Apostles, you only sort of count." I don't know if you're aware, Your Holiness, but some of the wearers of the big hat bought the office, sold the office, screwed the office, et cetera. You can't tell me these were all divine descendants of Peter and tell me that you guys are infallible. Not buying it.

Seriously, if you want people to come to the Church and participate in it, you probably shouldn't make an effort to come off like a cranky, racist grandpa. Just my opinion. Oh, and looking like Emperor Palpatine doesn't help at all, either.

Chill out, be blessed, et cetera,
Angie

So that ended up being kind of long, and should probably be a post unto itself. More later, then!

Religious Ponderings

I was meaning to write about this great PBS documentary I've been watching on Mormonism, so that'll be the focus of this, but first, Jerry Fallwell has died.

Now, this guy has a family, and I'm sure there were many, many good things about him. But he was also a bigot who thought that the Anti-Christ would have to be a male Jew (Funny, considering that's who your savior was as well) and that "pagans, and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say 'You helped this happen,'" in regard to September 11. It was a pretty narrow view of the world this guy had. And I sincerely hope that if there is something tangible about the soul that continues on to Heaven or Nirvana, or whatever, that Fallwell gets to spend some much needed time right now to learn the tolerance he didn't practice in life. (Oh, and also, this is a secular nation, whether he likes it or not, so he can stick that in his pipe and smoke it. Or could. Whatever.)

Anyway, The Mormons. So, I have a few (okay, one) Mormon friends, and from what I know from her and that one awesome episode of South Park, it seemed very strange. Of course, when you really look at any religion in the world, they look pretty strange. Take Catholocism for example. "So, your guy came to earth to teach love and tolerance and they killed him. And even though he supposedly took away all your sin with his death, you're pretty much going to feel guilty for every little thing, and decide what your Big Book really says about everything, but sometimes you ignore the stuff your guy said about loving other people and reaching out to the people no one else would. And at some point, you're going to turn some stale crackers and bad wine into his body and blood, and ask us all to participate in cannibalism? Riiiiiight." Now, my point here isn't to mock Catholicism. I was raised Catholic, and I still have a great respect for the Church even if I don't agree with alot of its principles and practices. Same kind of thing that goes for Mormonism. But here's a couple of things that blew my mind in a good way:

• The Mormon Church is easily the most effective with regards to charity and assisting in communities. According to the documentary, Mormons were on their way to Louisiana before Hurricane Katrina even hit, and they didn't just drop off supplies and leave. They helped clean and rebuild as much as they could.
• Generally speaking, Mormons put their money where their mouths are. Most serve on missions when they're around 20 and go to preach their gospel and I assume work in the community. They also put a huge amount of emphasis on the family, and are actually required to spend one evening a week with their families, which sounds harsh, but is probably very good for the family unit.

Here's a couple of things I wasn't so stoked on:

• You can be excommunicated if you have an opinion that differs from Church dogma. So, if you're a feminist and are outspoken about it, you can be thrown out of the Church, and "unsealed" from your spouse, children and family. If I were a practicing Mormon, I think that would be devastating. The Church essentially tells you that your entire family will all be together, physically together, in the next life, and you won't be with them anymore.
• Mormons are a bit more secretive than I would like. They're not transparent about where tithing money goes to, and they're even more guarded regarding their temple ceremonies. On the one hand I know they want to keep their sacred practices sacred and private, but on the other, don't be surprised when people make assumptions about your religion that aren't true. Myths are more interesting than truth, and I can almost guarantee the things we imagine going on are far more benign. But still, it gives an air of caginess I could do without.

Anyway, the documentary was terrific, extremely interesting. You should try to catch it if you can. It's just interesting to think about and I find the more I learn the more everything seems to boil down to similarities. Who knows what I'll arrive at eventually.