Big C Catholicism almost did it for me, for good, in the '80s.
I was born into a very loosely Protestant family. When I was a kid, my parents exposed me to a low-key denomination where I attended Sunday School and learned that "Jesus loves the little children." At that point, a crushing love for God really grabbed hold of my heart . . . regardless of my parents' skepticism or conflict over whether this had any real merit. We never became real "church goers," and, when I was in elementary school we moved to a new town where it turned out that most of my friends and neighbors where Catholic.
Over the years, I got exposed to the beauty, majesty, history and mystery of the Catholic Church in a very profound way. I generously got invited to Sunday Mass with my friends, on the great occasions of a Saturday night sleepover which became a Sunday morning obligation. Instantly, I was hooked. The smell of that special brand of incense . . . the intricate details of the altar, stained glass, "Stations of the Cross," the robes, the tabernacle, the "Mystery of Faith." I could go on and on. I started practicing all of the "duties" of Catholicism . . . when to stand, sit, and repeat the memorized prayers. When to kneel. How to cross myself. What it really meant, for me, to believe in Mother Mary. Attendance at Mass brought me quietly to tears . . . every time.
This affected me enough that, when I started to bemoan the limits of the public school education I was getting . . . and feeling so incredibly inadequate to the need to "keep up" with the fashion statements and politics of the bullies . . . I found a way to convince my parents to send me to the Catholic high school in a nearby town. The greatest reward . . . uniforms. Beyond that, though, came the beauty of the school itself. Small, narrow hallways. Tall ceilings. Blond brick. Creaky, rusted window casings. But, profoundly silent statues of Jesus and Mary, and crosses, an attached convent, and reminders everywhere that God was with us. Most classes started with a prayer of some sort, even though most of the teachers were lay-people. It was beyond the days of the ruler-wielding nuns . . . our teachers were devout and well educated, but mostly people just like our own parents. I was in Heaven.
Then, I decided to convert and become a nun myself.
Today, that statement looks so comical that I want to add the ubiquitous "lol" to the end of it! At the time, though, it was a decision and a thought that weighed very heavily on my adolescent mind.
Overall, it was the "social statements" of the Catholic Church which eventually turned me away. As a teenager, in the thrall of new experiences, I just couldn't deny myself the idea of physical relationships. To become celibate forever seemed absolutely impossible and ridiculous . . . despite how much I loved the idea of monastic life overall. With sex came the concept of "birth control," and I had enough of the Protestant still in me that I felt quite certain of its non-sinly nature. Over time, watching the conflicts my friends and I had with the teachings against normal stuff that we faced on a daily basis (abortion rights, the roll of women in the clergy, the horrible treatment of open homosexuals despite the questionable actions of some priests) made me realize that there was more to being part of a religious community than simply "loving God." There was politics, and money, and narrowness of ideology that resisted change. It was a real wake up call for me. It made me start looking closely at all religious communities, and spurred my interest in the "a la carte" method of spiritual education.
Thus, I became catholic in a new way.
catholic (little c)
–adjective
1. broad or wide-ranging in tastes, interests, or the like; having sympathies with all; broad-minded; liberal.
2. universal in extent; involving all; of interest to all.
3. pertaining to the whole Christian body or church.
I took it well beyond "Christian" churches, and started looking into far more ancient traditions from the East and Middle East. Every single path I have studied has spoken to me on some level. I have found that every culture, every myth, story, and belief has had a meaning to me, personally, somehow. I have embraced the old proverb from India . . . rewritten slightly to have meaning in English . . . "God is an elephant, and we all are simply blind men touching different parts. None of us can adequately describe the concept of 'elephant,' all we know is what we feel underneath our own hands. Nonetheless, what we feel is absolutely, and in all respects, the truth of elephantness."
Of course, every tradition also has its limitations. There is resistance and narrowness, everywhere you look in religions . . . old and new. Ultimately, the only church I found that I could subscribe to was the Unitarian Universalist movement . . . the only church I know which does not require its members to declare a "theology" or "belief system." There are lapsed Catholics, disenfranchised Jews, many, many Buddhists, and lots of people with mixed marriages, gay marriages, and all sorts of alternative spiritual views in this church. As a UU member, you can basically believe anything you want, and there are many active and long-standing members who actually consider themselves atheists! Trust me, though, I am watching this group carefully . . . if someone tries to force me to be an atheist just so I can be a member of their church . . . watch out!!! lol.
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