As I sit and skip out on yet another Sunday gathering and my husband leaves with the 2 kids in tow to praise the Lord, I must admit there is a smidgen of yearning to connect with some kind of spirituality. I have many reservations about organized religion, developed and still festering from the years of cathecism I endured as the child of a catholic mother. My husband, on the other hand, lacks such indoctrination and simply goes to church to be a part of that fellowship.
Me? I just don't likey. Maybe it's that arrogance that all catholic kids are taught: only catholics go to heaven, all other faiths/religions are fucked. I don't believe this to be true, just as I don't believe Jesus was a celibate, single dude who died for our sins. But that's for another time. What I do believe is that behind our gruff, cool, kickin' exteriors lies within all of us some concept of a God. Maybe it's the essence of Mother Earth, the Buddha, Yahweh, Allah. I don't know, it's just a hunch I have. And with this hunch, I have a very strong belief that just as I don't have the right to preach to someone about the condition of their soul, NO ONE has the right to preach to me about the condition of mine.
So maybe that's why I shy away from church. Fear of hearing all that black and white, hell and heaven bullshit programming I received as a child.
My husband, on the other hand, comes from good, hell-bound, protestant stock. As his family relocated a few times, with each new town they'd move to came the church shopping spree. CHURCH SHOPPING?! That's crazy! Choosing for yourself rather than follow the herd to the closest catholic mass? That's spiritual anarchy! But one I really liked . . . especially having parted with the catholics sometime during the 3-hour freedom drive from my parent's home to college and my pseudo-freshman year (I'll leave that for another post).
So when my husband and I started our own church shopping, I felt deliciously rebellious because we'd decided to plant our roots in the area of my youth. This meant I knew a bunch of people, and they knew me. And the fact we weren't darkening the door of the local St. Joe's was noticeable and . . . awesome. I'd taken a public stand that shouted "I'm not catholic anymore!" But who am I kidding? You can take the girl outta the church, but you can't take the church outta the girl. And not everything was bad, just most of it. There are lovely prayers that I remember. The pageantry of the mass, though long, was pretty cool. And much of my family remains catholic and I love them and believe that their religion works for them and I bless them! And from time to time, I enjoy going to church with them and taking communion (not because I believe in the body and blood, but because the local priest knows I'm not a practicing catholic and it pisses him off - HA!).
I think, and this is just for me, that my catholic upbringing really kinda ruined the idea of cherishing and honoring any kind of church. My husband and I decided upon a very cool, quite liberal denomination. We've had good preachers and our current minister is a very hip, funny, bald guy from Wisconsin (and you can never go wrong with a Cheddar Head). But it's a real effort for me to go. So I generally don't. Especially since I tend to fellowship with some buddies a few times a week, trying to find my way along the path of sobriety.
Again, I don't want to turn off anyone with this 'God Talk,' but it's part of who I am. For me, I must recognize that this world is not just about Jenny, which is why I love the following verses from Psalm 51:
"Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and put a new and right spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence,
and do not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and sustain in me a willing spirit."
I wish you all peace and blessings. Try a little meditation, a little journaling, a little prayer. I haven't been doing much of these, but if I keep asking for the willingness, I have no doubt it will come.
'Bout time you hopped into the blogosphere. Warm welcomes!!!
ReplyDeleteMy favorite short poem on that subject...by Bukowski
ReplyDeleteThe finest of the breed.
there’s nothing to
discuss
there’s nothing to
remember
there’s nothing to
forget
it’s sad
and
it’s not
sad
seems the
most sensible
thing
a person can
do
is
sit
with a drink in
hand
as the walls
wave
their goodbye
smiles
one comes through
it
all
with a certain
amount of
efficiency and
bravery
then
leaves
some accept
the possibility of
God
to help them
get
through
others
take it
straight on
and to these
I drink
tonight.