40 days of church? FAIL!

Michelangelo, Fall of Man (detail)

FORTY DAYS OF CHURCH? 
FAIL!
or “my ups & downs in the Catholic religion”

So this Catholic raised girl is not particularly literal or religious in her religion, to be honest.

Church?  I stopped when I was 19.  It just so happend that the first homily that I heard in church after I had an unfortunate abortion in college  was about the evils of abortion! (what are the chances of that happening?).  I didn’t return to a church until I had my daughter babtized. 

Then it came time for First Holy Commnion. I decided to teach the class so my daughter would go: three years. My belief in the ways of this guy, Jesus, who most certainly lived around 2AD, definitely became elevated. Teaching to children is the best way to get to the “core” of the message. No matter the topic.  Did I believe in the miracles?  No. I have always held that they were parables, meant to teach.  Do have “faith?” Yes, in a broad sense: I believe that Jesus existed and that  and  he clearly spoke of ways of living –and showed by example ways of living — that can only benefit those who “practice” what he preached. A lot of it has to do with not being judgemental, being loving, being charitable and foregiving. How can any of this be bad?  

Do I hold to the Catholic Chatecism? Fuck No. And, I don’t believe many of the stories in the Gospels of the new testemant actually, literally, occured (Like one loaf of bread feeding a throng).  The first installment, John, wasn’t even written until 100 years after Jesus’ death. And that was the first one. Oral tradition can only be so accurate, especially when religion is concerned and parable works to teach and amaze the masses. (Although it always stuck me as quite a feat  that the Oddessey was passed down orally….I don’t think I could recite a full page and pass it on without mistakes!!! And that is one loooonnng  book)

Anyway…..for some reason, I went to church this year a few weeks before lent started (call it 3 months ago). I’ve been trying unsucessfully to tell my kid to make her “confirmation” which is sort of an adult initiation into the catholic church.   So I wanted to be an example.  

The church is around the corner from me and the priests rarely go beyond 30 minutes. Plus,  I was learning stuff from this one priest in particular, who had a degree in philosophy from Columbia from many years ago. The others were ok, but I always came away feeling like I knew something about history, world events, and got some insight into the parables that I could use in my daily life.  Not bad.

So Ash Wednesday, they ask us to do something as a penance for the 40 days up until Easter.  Usually people do things that are very juvenile (and really meant to help them lose weight) like stop eating chocolates. My cousin cut out wine. I decided to go to church every day.

I actually was doing it!  Every day. Church before gym.   That is, until  “THE SERMON.” 

It was last Sunday, Palm Sunday. One of the few days that catholics who don’t go to church actually show up. And what does the priest talk about?   (it wasn’t the Columbia grad, btw).  He talks about SIN!!! 

This is like flashback to age 19.   He talks about how it is our sin that has taken God’s beautiful world and made it into a mess.  He referred to wars overseas, to the economy, to crime.  You name it, he blamed US for being sinful.  On palm Sunday!   

How ’bout a nice lecture on the good message of christ and if we followed it, we would have more joy and spread more happiness and love to those around us? How about how willing, God our father is to forgive us when we falter?   How ’bout saying something that might inspire the folks standing around me — or me, for that matter — to come back every week.

I became so angry listening to the homily, I swore not to return. In fact, I almost walked out in the middle .  Yeah, I know…anger can be my middle name.    But quiet anger, not punch the wall anger.   Bubbling, intellectualized, rage I guess I should call it.

I went back one more time, and I return today for Easter.   I don’t know what lies ahead. But I can’t help but thinking it wasn’t me who failed to keep my promise of 40 days of church, but the priest’s failure to want me to keep it.