I don't really remember thinking about God, faith, or religion until I was about seven years old. This is kind of ironic because I went to a Catholic school for kindergarten and first grade. I knew the Our Father and they made us go to Mass. I once came home shortly after starting kindergarten, crossed myself and said "Hey mom! I'm Catholic!" Seems a little like prophecy. My mom gently explained that I wasn't Catholic and I went on my way.
In the second grade I went to California to live with my dad. I went to a school in the basement of the Non-denominational church he went to. One day my dad sat me down in my bedroom and we had a conversation.
Dad: Are you saved?
Second grade me: What do you mean dad?
Dad: Have you invited Jesus Christ into your heart as your Savior?
Me: (thinking. Beat) No.
And then my dad prayed with me. I asked Jesus to come and enter my heart and save me. Looking back, this moment in my memory almost makes me cry. My dad did this because he wanted the best for me. He believed in God and wanted me to give my life to him. It is probably one of my favorite memories of my dad. It was before all of the crap. I digress... So I was saved. I went to church and sang and prayed. I didn't have an understanding of exactly what I was doing but I had a relationship with God. At the end of that year my dad boarded the USS Abraham Lincoln to go to the Persian Gulf and I moved back with my mom.
We moved to Pennsylvania after she got out of the Navy. Mom never really went to church, not weekly anyway. But when we moved to PA I began going to a Methodist church with my grandfather. I started going to Sunday School and singing and praying. I was growing as a Christian. Again, I remember one specific moment with my grandfather. I hadn't been very faithful to the every sunday church trip. In fact it was pretty spotty. Anyway, Saturday night rolls around and I decide I am going to go to church tomorrow. For whatever reason I really wanted to go that Sunday. So I go to bed and wake up the next morning get dressed and put on my Sunday best. I'm combing my hair and I hear my grandfathers Cadillac start up and pull out of the driveway. I run downstairs and out the door, chasing after him on his way to church. I was crushed. I cried. He left without me! My church going was on and off in the next few years.
Meanwhile my dad moved back to Texas after he got out of the Navy. I think it was the summer of my seventh grade year, I went to my dad's for the summer. It was a normal visit. I don't even remember what brought the topic up, I may have asked my dad if we were going to church or something, but my dad and I began to talk about Christianity. My dad dropped a bomb. He did not believe in God. This shook me to the core. This made me cry. I'm not sure why. I don't think I was worried for my father's soul or anything of that sort, but this affected me. He explained that if the Bible is an accurate historical document, then the Bible says that the world was only 6,000 years old, 10,000 tops. Science, he explained, says that the Universe existed for least 4 billion years. I don't remember any of his other refutations of Christianity, but my dad was a confirmed Atheist. I was old enough to recognize that my dad didn't come up with this on his own. He had read it somewhere. So after that conversation I set out to find out about religion.
I read the Bible, about the Bible, about Judaism, about Islam. Over the next few years I fell away from Christianity. I became an Atheist. Not necessarily because of my dad, but partly because it was the 'in thing' with a group of friends and partly because if all of these different groups believed different things but proposed that they were true, then they were all wrong. So I began to read existentialists. I started with Emerson and moved to Thoreau. I read about collective consciousness and other non-theistic philosophies. I wasn't so much an advocate of one idea or another. I just loved to talk about religion and philosophy. I became the devils advocate in every conversation. I liked to question Christians about all of the points that an Atheist would ask.
Then I discovered what it meant to be an Agnostic. That was my new label. It is not possible to know beyond a shadow of doubt that God does exist. I still liked to talk philosophy and religion but I was certain no one could know.
By the time I got to college I began to feel something. It was a sort of uneasiness. I began to feel there was something more. Something tangible, feel-able, even if only internally. I had a friend that year who was a Wiccan. So I began to ask questions. I got into the occult type stuff. I did not wear black or turn into a hippy or anything like that. I began to do some reading about paganism and wicca. It all seemed plausible. Why not? The earth has a living spirit and 'spells' were nothing more than being able to move that spirit to my whims. It wasn't like The Craft or anything like that. It was more subtle. I never did any spells or join any covens and ultimately I dismissed it. It ease my uneasiness.
So I floated spiritually for the next year or so looking for peace. I began taking a class on Buddhism. This I could get into. What could be more peaceful than Buddhism? I read about the different types of Buddhism. I read about the monks. It all made sense to me. I have to say, I never became a monk or began practicing Buddhism with a group, but what I did do did not give me a full sense of peace.
At this point in time, I was dating a girl. She was Catholic. She invited me to Mass. I went. This was a wonderful experience. I wasn't an active participant. I tried to do the calisthenics with everyone else (sit, stand, kneel) and not stand out. After the reading of the Gospel the liturgy of the Eucharist started and I was brought to tears. I didn't understand it. It didn't make sense. Why was I tearing up? It was a good cry, but I held it in it. I didn't want to look weird! I felt at peace. It was wonderful. I didn't share this with my girlfriend. A couple days later at two in the morning I went to the church and just sat in the pew. Just hanging out with God. I decided to give it a chance again. About a month later I called a priest friend and scheduled a meeting. We had a drink and just chatted. I continued to go to Mass every once in a while to fill up on peace when I needed it.
That March the Holy Father's, Pope John Paul II, health seriously declined. I was stuck to the TV for two weeks. First of all, I understood the historical significance of what was happening. We were watching live on CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, what have you, the death of one of the holiest men ever to live. I continued to watch all through the novena and the conclave. It was during this period that I discovered the Rosary. I decided then that I was going to enter RCIA the following fall.
I realize now after reading what is written that I have missed a few major points like the DaVinci Code, my roommate Greg, and Rose's Dad. I'm sure I will come back to those topics in the process of writing in this blog.
I want to end this entry by saying I was nervous about putting most of this down. Most of the people I know from college, whom I would want to read it, don't really know this side of my life. Its not even a side of my life but is my life. My faith is so important to me. But never in my past have I been this into religion as something I am part of. I remember telling one of my college friends that I was going to RCIA, that I was joining the Catholic Church, and he said with moderate disdain, "Why?" Had I been looking into any other religion, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, no one would've questioned. I don't know. Let it be as it may.
Peace,
B
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