So today I start with something easy: RELIGION! Before I begin, I think that it's important you understand that this is not some diatribe that is arguing for or against religion as a whole. I am not bashing one faith for another, this is just my experience of organized religion throughout my life. There, with that said it would probably be helpful to include a few important moments of how I got to where I am as far as my affiliation with "organized religion."
Having spent the first 5 1/2 years of my life sharing a house with my ultra Roman Catholic grandmother, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I wanted to be a nun when I was a little girl. I could even recite most of the mass from memory, which makes me realize that I confused the role of the sisters in the Catholic Church. Of my earliest organized religious experience, I can only remember a few things: my grandmother always sat in the pew closest to the heater (if you've been to WNY you understand), Sunday after church meant getting the paper from Marshall's Newsstand and a dozen Dunkin Donuts, and pretty much anything we seemed to do could be viewed as a sin and would send us straight to hell. I, like many, was instilled with a strong sense of guilt for the sins of the world at an early age. I don't really remember anything other than the "communion dry run" and purposely dumping lasagna on my dress when it comes to my First Communion. I was surprised to learn that the "body of Christ" pretty much tastes like the bottom of an ice cream cone if you eat before ice cream seeps into the bottom.
When I was in my teens I learned about all of the "wonderful things" throughout history done under the banner of Christianity. This did not make me doubt the existence of God, just the interpretation of God by man. Since my parents weren't "hard core" Catholics, they didn't make us go to church on a regular basis. Most family visits were to Midnight Mass where we got to see our inebriated priest try to stagger down the aisle without pitching the baby Jesus at the manger. I chose to make my confirmation for the following reasons: to please my grandmother, to choose a sweet "confirmation name," and because I knew people gave you money. I really did enjoy that I got personalized religious instruction from a really knowledgeable nun. However, even I realized something was amiss when I thought I was going to go into convulsions trying not to laugh while walking under the swords of the Knights of Columbus. I stayed Catholic throughout college and even brought up my desire to leave the church once, and only once, to my grandma. The transcript of our brief conversation went as follows:
Me: I really think I don't want to be Catholic anymore.
Grandma: WHAT?!? YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR COUSIN DON'T YOU? SHE LEFT THE CATHOLIC CHURCH TO BECOME A LUTHERAN AND LOST HER MIND!
Me: Grandma, pretty sure she lost her mind because she had a hormonal imbalance and post-partum psychosis.
Needless to say I waited until my grandmother had been dead for several years before I chose to give up Catholicism for Lent and become a Methodist. This choice came from living in America's Bible Belt for a few years and sampling the hodgepodge of denominations for a bit. My friend's dad was a Methodist Minister and since they seemed laid back, I figured it would be alright for me.
When my dad died suddenly from a medical error in July 2000, it was my church family and friends that consoled me, drove me to the airport, and were there for me when I needed them most. Adding to this already difficult situation was having a 14 year old student with brain cancer put into my class, and a friend being diagnosed a second time with breast cancer. So I turned to God and prayed that he (or whatever gender you conceptualize God to be) would save at least one of these people so special to me in my life. But, it wasn't meant to be. My student died in August 2001 and was buried by a man who was excited about the rapture and spoke about how God needed this kid more than we did. In the aftermath of September 11, 2001 there became a rise in the frequency of tirades denouncing other religions, most notably Islam at the Methodist churches I attended. Being a teacher of World History and Cultures I found that most of what was said was inaccurate. So badly I wanted to jump and tell people how Jesus if favorably mentioned in the Koran and how Muslims, Jews, and Christians traced their lineage back to Abraham. Yet, I chose to remain silent on these glaring inaccuracies rather than offend those around me. So I chose to stay away from regular worship at the church for awhile, though I found myself attending many funerals during this time for friends and family. In December, my friend died with her obituary appearing in the back of the paper where on the front it told how she was selected to carry the Olympic torch.
Following the death of my father, I got a phone call from my mom on a nearly nightly basis for the next 23 months where I basically tried to convince her not to kill herself. She had been briefly institutionalized at a psychiatric center in February 2001 for repeated suicide attempts. I went home for several weeks to take care of her and she asked me "what if there's a test to get into heaven?" Considering we didn't read the bible that much, I went out and got her a copy of the Complete Idiot's Guide to the Bible and told her to "pray for multiple choice," which actually made her feel better . I got one last phone call from my mom on May 22, 2002. I wasn't there and it went to the answering machine. I was pulled from proctoring a state exam the following morning and told my mother had died. I don't know for certain if she killed herself or died from cancer, I don't blame her either way. What I thought sucked was the constant barrage of well-meaning Christians who asked me "if my parents were saved?" Others were convinced that if my mother did kill herself she would be burning in hell and didn't hesitate to let me know it.
In April 2007 I was invited to a student’s church which I have attended on a very regular basis for more than two years now. It's a small "country" southern church filled with people who don't seem to mind that I'm a recovering Catholic or that I'm from the north. People are good to me and it's nice to have a sense of belonging somewhere even if I don't agree with everything espoused from the pulpit. It even became somewhat of a game when I wasn't allowed to officially join by "Pastor PowerPoint" who said he "wouldn't make it easy for me to join since I was Catholic." Last summer I volunteered at an orphanage and school center in Peru. Not that I am big reader of the bible, but through the experience I finally understood the story of the “scales falling away from Saul's eyes” and his transformation to Paul. Editor’s note: I am not saying I am the “new Paul” when I refer to this story, I just came back and saw my world with different eyes. We had gotten a new pastor while I was gone and one of his first tasks was to get me to join. Now I am actually the Sunday School teacher for the college age students, even though most days class is basically more catching up than bible study.
Wouldn't the world be a better place if we were only concerned with what religion was right for us as individuals and make us a better person who shows our love of Christ without having to wear a label? I know what it says in the bible about the son of God, you don't have to send me passages. But it also says "you shall know me by many names." So, maybe it's time to look at the good in other faiths, rather than pointing out what we see as wrong with them to prove what’s right about us. Regardless of what you believe, shouldn't we show kindness to our neighbor despite our differences? Personally, I find greater personal faith through the study of other religions.
In the end, we won't know until we die which of us, if any, is right. As for me, I'm praying for multiple choice.
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