I have a confession to make. It’s not easy to say this-much less publish it to the wide world-but I feel I can no longer continue in secret. Though it doesn’t seem harmful now, not opening up about it could be harmful and doing so, may help others who haven’t felt free to be open up about their own desires. But I can’t stay silent any more. Too many people need to take in what I have to say today. So here we go:
I have been to mass.
Not just a little bit. Not just crossing my chest when I think no one is looking in an alleyway downtown, or sneaking the rosary under my coat in a dark movie theater, but everyday, and for years. The nave itself, has rarely seen me. In fact, before the last two times I’ve gone, it’s been years since I’ve taken a knee in public. But I have had a long-standing love affair with Catholicism.
It started out innocently enough as all affairs do, a talk with a friend about transubstantiation and consubstantiation. You know, what Sophomores in college usually talk about. This friend brought up some good points and we had a very interesting discussion. She invited me to mass. I went. I felt odd but she was there beside me helping me along on when to kneel, when to stand, and when to say what. It was a crash course in the holy rosary.
Two years later, I was driving with Jesus to rehearsal. I liked Jesus. She was fun, a laugh a minute, and she fascinated me. Jesus must have seen something in me too for she invited me to join her in leading her youth group at St. Mary’s Catholic Church and you know how it goes, where Jesus leads, we follow. Jesus, otherwise known outside of our play, Journey to the Cross, as Leonora, (I was the blind man she healed, a disciple she called, and a high priest who betrayed her rolled into one, but that is another whole metaphor for another story), was a gift in my life. I joined her at St. Mary’s as an intern and we had a blast. I got to help plan and sit in on all the lessons. I got to know the kids. I got to shoot Lee with rubber bands in the dark on our overnighter. I even went to a tea with the women. I got to learn from her how to laugh at myself.
In addition to being the youth leader in Albany, Lee also worked at the Newman Center, the Catholic student center just off campus. Hanging out with all the Catholics at the Newman Center and playing “Dress Up Jesus” on the Internet became my favorite haunt. We laughed until we cried. We made comfort food in the kitchen and held regular get-togethers. I even took their class on what Catholics believe and why, taught by a local priest. One night we went bowling and competed against the Presbyterian center down the street that I was also familiar with. They called me a traitor. But those times there among the voluminous tomes of Catholicism are some of my very happiest from my college years.
After college, I went and got religion. Well, first I got depressed and then I got religion. (Another longer story.) This religion came in the form of Christian History, a topic so little taught in our world. At seminary, I learned about our church fathers, “Lord, give me chastity but not yet.” I learned about the early councils when the church was one. (Ha!) I learned about the Abbas and the Ammas who moved out to the desert when Christianity became acceptable. I learned about those faithful followers of Christ who lived on top of pillars for years on end in faith to God. (Someone should have shared with them the verse about wanting a contrite heart more than sacrifice.) I learned about the mystics, the church splits, I learned about the tree of faith and I learned that Catholics were Christians! I walked the labyrinth and learned about the rosary. I knew the saints and venerated the icons. (Rublev’s Trinity is my absolute favorite!) From Carole and MaryKate I learned we are all one, we are from the same family. What is more, I learned I loved the art, the images and pictures, the traditions and practices. I loved the history.
About a year ago, I attended an Episcopalian church and it was an enriching experience. I really enjoyed it. Some of my favorite authors and books have been Episcopalian. Then this last Christmas Eve, I decided to go to midnight mass. Every once in a while, you just need some good liturgy. So I asked my spiritual director what times the services were going to be at (all my directors have been Catholic more or less). I wanted to remember in the midst of the all the Christmas decorations and shopping why we were celebrating. I was thirsty for mass.
Though it was the second time I had been there, I visited that church once years ago, I didn’t really know what I was doing. The room was packed, overflowing even, so it wasn’t too hard to sit in the back and try to blend in, though I hoped they wouldn’t find out I wasn’t really Catholic, just a wannabe. But even being an outsider, I felt very comfortable amongst them. My favorite icon hangs in the front on the right hand side, and it has enough qualities of Judaism, the rhythms of worship echo in my heart and make it sing. The next week I went again, still crowded, and I still sat near the back, trying not to let people know I didn’t have it all memorized. But I love how they use their bodies in worship, it feels so wholesome, so life-giving.
Really, the protestants left out a lot of great stuff when they “reformed”. It’s like there having been missing pieces in my protestant spirituality that have been filled in and brought to light as I’ve engaged in Judaism and Catholicism. While I was at seminary, we were taught these other Christian practices, a rich array of them, not to show what they did, but as pieces of us, our history, our heritage. We we taught these practices, these spiritualities, were beautiful and meaningful and true. We were taught to respect them, to experiment with them, even to enjoy them. I still do. So being a visitor, it would seem “home” is elsewhere, but I feel home there too. Is God there? Yes. Yes He/She is. And wherever God is, there is home. You can hear Him in the singing, you can hear her in the prayers. You can hear God in all of these spiritual practices.
Sister Antoinette once told me she didn’t think I would be happy until I became Catholic. I think she’s right in a way. I would never be happy sticking to just one spiritual practice. I need Catholicism too on top of everything else. There is so much out there. So many deeply enriching experiences that sticking to one all the time would be like having mashed potatoes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As much as I like mashed potatoes, I want variety in my diet. It keeps things interesting, keeps me healthy. Diversity is nourishing. And if diversity is nourishing in what we eat and what we do, then why not how we pray? Why not how we relate to God?
Trying out different ways of relating to God is a good thing. It’s not that I’m betraying any faith I profess to have or church I am involved with, (though how I could betray Judaism, Protestantism, and Quakerism all in one is beyond me), it’s that I’m enriching it. God doesn’t have denominations in Heaven. We are all one. Why not embrace that here? Why not visit each other, get to know one another? Why not break down those stereotypes and get to know someone from a different faith background for ourselves? In my own life, I found that we aren’t so different and in the places we are, those places enrich my life far more than I ever thought possible.
So I go to mass. And I go to Quaker meeting. I visit churches and I delight in Shabbat. And yes, I have some practices that are rather Catholic. It’s one of the reasons I have enjoyed becoming friends with people of the Catholic faith. I can share those things, those practices of mine, knowing full well they share them too and that they won’t ever laugh at me or question why I do them. And when they ask me if I have considered a religious life, I know they are not simply incredulous of why a woman would invest herself in attending seminary, but are asking sincerely, and we can have a real conversation about it.
God is just too big, and too wide, and too immense to limit ourselves to one way of prayer. Thanks be to God.