Catholic Hangover
When I was a small child, I was raised in no faith. Sure, my nominally Church of England parents made sure I knew the basics, but they made zero effort to expose me to any church. I remember that when I was young, the families of several of my friends took pity on me and invited me to join them in worship. My parents were nonchalant about the whole thing; at the time, I thought they didn't care whether or not or where or how I worshipped. Now that I am grown, I see clearly their hippie desire for me to find my own information.
Regardless, up until the age of ten, my only church experiences were attending Anglican services with Adrienne's family, or Baptist services with Carolyn's. And even at that young age, I was old enough to feel frustration and rage that my OWN parents weren't giving me direction.
Then came an event which, SERIOUSLY, should have had nothing to do with me. My divorced father wanted to marry Linda, the lady who later came to be known as My Mum. Linda was a Catholic and wanted to be married in the Catholic Church. Next thing you know, Daddy is being baptized as a Catholic, and my brother and I, at the ages of 14 and 13, are entering kindergarten catechism because, hell, we're going to BE CATHOLIC.
Very unsettling to me.
Now, to be fair, I had been in a Catholic girls' choir for years by this point (Linda pushed me in to it because it was simply the finest girls' chois in the area, and she knew I could bloody SING) and I had already attended countless ceremonies where I barely understood what was happening. Attending catechism gave me the background information I needed, a kind of crash course in "Why Do Catholics Do That?"... which is also the name of a best selling book, trying to explain to non-RC's what the hell is going on. This crash course put things in context for me, helped me to see, appreciate, and meditate on the mysteries of the Gospel.
I fell in love with the Catholic faith, and within the year I was giving the readings at Mass and serving as a lay member and giving communion. I had the honour of holding the sacred Host, and proclaiming to each adorer, "The Body Of Christ" as I marvelled in the miracle of The Risen Christ: the flat piece of bread in my hand truly WAS the Body of Christ, and how could you not be floored by THAT?
In the next few years, though, something funny started to happen. I still attended Mass regularly, I remember being 19 and attending Mass weekly with my boyfriend. Pay attention to that, please: I went with my boyfriend, NOT either of our families. We went because we wanted to share in God's Glory together. But let's not kid ourselves, folks, we were also doing the Nasty, and we were doing it with (wait for it...) birth control.
This was the first splinter in my relationship with the Catholic Church, the first time I actually questioned what a bunch of men in a foreign country were dictating for my life. I didn't question the fact that they frowned on premarital sex, EVERY religion does that and I accepted that I was a sinner. I just couldn't get past the "no birth control" thing. Around that time, we had the huge famines in Africa. I would watch the horrifying footage on the news of emaciated women holding starving babies who would never be nourished from their breasts, immediately followed by well fed men in Rome telling these desperate mothers that suffering is Christ's Way, saying "no" to your husband's carnal desires was wrong, but for the sake of your SOUL, don't practice birth control!
Yeah. You're right. The CONDOM which prevents HIV and pregnancies that can only end in death, THAT'S the problem.
Hi, my name is Jennifer and I'm outta here.
Fast forward to the present day. For several years now, I have yearned in my soul to join a church. I want the community, I want to spend time with people like me, who are ordinary sinners but are trying to lead a holy life. I want fellowship.
This year, I tried the United Church. I adore the congregation, I truly enjoy Rev. Aaron and everything I have seen so far. I have read several books about the philosophy of the United Church. And I want to belong.
But I can't.
Even as a lapsed Catholic, I can't give up the sanctity of my Church for the community of his. I miss the ceremony, I miss the smell of incense, I miss the familiar cadence of the Apostle's Creed, I miss that holy, holy moment when the Body of Christ is materialized. My Catholic Hangover is too strong for me to leave the beauty of the Church I decry.
Tell me, where is a nice, confused Catholic girl to go?
Regardless, up until the age of ten, my only church experiences were attending Anglican services with Adrienne's family, or Baptist services with Carolyn's. And even at that young age, I was old enough to feel frustration and rage that my OWN parents weren't giving me direction.
Then came an event which, SERIOUSLY, should have had nothing to do with me. My divorced father wanted to marry Linda, the lady who later came to be known as My Mum. Linda was a Catholic and wanted to be married in the Catholic Church. Next thing you know, Daddy is being baptized as a Catholic, and my brother and I, at the ages of 14 and 13, are entering kindergarten catechism because, hell, we're going to BE CATHOLIC.
Very unsettling to me.
Now, to be fair, I had been in a Catholic girls' choir for years by this point (Linda pushed me in to it because it was simply the finest girls' chois in the area, and she knew I could bloody SING) and I had already attended countless ceremonies where I barely understood what was happening. Attending catechism gave me the background information I needed, a kind of crash course in "Why Do Catholics Do That?"... which is also the name of a best selling book, trying to explain to non-RC's what the hell is going on. This crash course put things in context for me, helped me to see, appreciate, and meditate on the mysteries of the Gospel.
I fell in love with the Catholic faith, and within the year I was giving the readings at Mass and serving as a lay member and giving communion. I had the honour of holding the sacred Host, and proclaiming to each adorer, "The Body Of Christ" as I marvelled in the miracle of The Risen Christ: the flat piece of bread in my hand truly WAS the Body of Christ, and how could you not be floored by THAT?
In the next few years, though, something funny started to happen. I still attended Mass regularly, I remember being 19 and attending Mass weekly with my boyfriend. Pay attention to that, please: I went with my boyfriend, NOT either of our families. We went because we wanted to share in God's Glory together. But let's not kid ourselves, folks, we were also doing the Nasty, and we were doing it with (wait for it...) birth control.
This was the first splinter in my relationship with the Catholic Church, the first time I actually questioned what a bunch of men in a foreign country were dictating for my life. I didn't question the fact that they frowned on premarital sex, EVERY religion does that and I accepted that I was a sinner. I just couldn't get past the "no birth control" thing. Around that time, we had the huge famines in Africa. I would watch the horrifying footage on the news of emaciated women holding starving babies who would never be nourished from their breasts, immediately followed by well fed men in Rome telling these desperate mothers that suffering is Christ's Way, saying "no" to your husband's carnal desires was wrong, but for the sake of your SOUL, don't practice birth control!
Yeah. You're right. The CONDOM which prevents HIV and pregnancies that can only end in death, THAT'S the problem.
Hi, my name is Jennifer and I'm outta here.
Fast forward to the present day. For several years now, I have yearned in my soul to join a church. I want the community, I want to spend time with people like me, who are ordinary sinners but are trying to lead a holy life. I want fellowship.
This year, I tried the United Church. I adore the congregation, I truly enjoy Rev. Aaron and everything I have seen so far. I have read several books about the philosophy of the United Church. And I want to belong.
But I can't.
Even as a lapsed Catholic, I can't give up the sanctity of my Church for the community of his. I miss the ceremony, I miss the smell of incense, I miss the familiar cadence of the Apostle's Creed, I miss that holy, holy moment when the Body of Christ is materialized. My Catholic Hangover is too strong for me to leave the beauty of the Church I decry.
Tell me, where is a nice, confused Catholic girl to go?
posted by Jenn at
9:55 p.m.
2 Comments:
Well... the Left-Over-Catholic in me says "Straight to HELL!!!" But fuck it. According to the Pope, I'm going to hell just for the piercings and tattoos. Let's not get started on the other shit I get up to.
Sorry. No answer from this corner.
ahhh the eternal question. can we not just dance naked under the new moon and call it a night? much easier that way. are you sure you don't want to take next april off with me and walk the entire camino? the spanish catholic churches possess such an ancient mysticism (and i cry every time i sit through a spanish service and they bless the peregrinos), and there are loads of templar castles along the way... we could walk and find god together. :) and there's good cheap wine in spain. ha.
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