I'm in a book club at my parish. We're reading Eucharist by Bishop Robert Barron. Pretty high level stuff. I began reading chapter 1 and spent much of the time looking up unknown words and re-reading the chapter. Despite the language barrier, I enjoyed the next level insight. I checked out the audio book from my library thinking it might be easier to understand and digest in spoken word. I still spent a good deal of time looking up words. I think either medium would be sufficient (or insufficient) to the understanding of the topic. Bishop Barron is a knowledgeable dude. He writes in a way that he comprehends and in a way that by his intellect and expertise best expresses his thoughts. However, if one doesn't focus on the $10 vocab, a personal story is on those pages. A love story. God's love for us. But as much as God loves us, sometimes that road feels impossible to travel. Trying to follow him despite the push back from society...and even sometimes from our friends and family.
Becoming Catholic was who I was meant to be, but it felt like I was climbing up a mountain
I grew up protestant/baptist for most of my childhood. We were off and on church goers not really staying in one place for very long. Some drama would erupt with the youth group or the ladies club and we'd move on...or stop going altogether for long stretches of time. We'd usually go on Easter Sunday or near Christmas (because "who has time to go to church on Christmas Day?") Church wasn't a huge part of our family life. My Dad never went with us. Sometimes I'd stay home when Mom & Chris went so that I could watch Wrestling at the Chase. Sundays were for weekly trips to the Chinese buffet and trying to stay up late to watch Dr. Who.
My Mom didn't grow up going to church. She had an insecure childhood being tossed from one parent to the other and finally ending up with my Grandma who tried to attend a church in her town and was allegedly shunned because she & my Grandpa (Eddie) owned a tavern. Scandalous. The most access and exposure my Mom had to organized religion was through her Grandma Corinna with whom she lived until she was around 8. My Grandpa (Al) and Grandpa Angelo also lived with them in a small house on Rebecca Street in Collinsville. They were Catholic. My great-grandma was very devout. Mom said that if she wasn't holding a spoon to stir, she was holding a rosary to pray. It blew my mind to think that my Mom had attended Catholic church and made me wonder why she wasn't Catholic now. She was baptized as a baby and then re-baptized as an adult because the church she was attending didn't acknowledge infant baptism. She didn't have a particularly positive view of Catholicism. The only thing that she said was that her Grandma was one of the best Christians that she had ever met and that she happened to be Catholic. Later in life I realized that her less than favorable take on the religion was probably due to my grandpa's many wives and relationships and that he (allegedly) asked her to sign a form for his most recent annulment. In her eyes, this made her & my aunt illegitimate children. Of course, this isn't true. I'm honestly not even sure what paper my grandpa asked her to sign. I just know that she blames the Church for "making" him get those signed. She saw a lot of examples of Catholics that didn't really practice the faith as they should have.
When I decided to convert in my early twenties, I was excited to finally find the true place where God had been leading me throughout my life (more on that another time) and equally apprehensive about how I was going inform my family. I was sure that it wouldn't go over well while also being hopeful that they would support my decision. To say that they weren't supportive is a bit of an understatement. My Mom would not acknowledge my decision being mine; instead she chalked it up to dating a Catholic and trying to please him. My brother Chris's reaction bordered on offensive. Understandable if one factors in the fact that he was being given gross misinformation by trusted "Christian" friends and church leaders. The standard Mary-worshiping-statue-loving-beer-drinking Catholic shtick. At the time, I was very hurt and couldn't understand why he couldn't support me. We had always been side by side in matters of faith. Why did this have to be different? He didn't come to the Easter vigil on the night that I came into the church. My Mom and Chris' wife, Vickie, were there...even my often absentee Grandpa and his wife attended. At the time, it broke my heart. I was confused and hurt and angry for a long time. Looking back, I can understand a bit better that he reacted that way because he thought he was losing me as a partner in faith. He thought that we couldn't be excited by Jesus things together like we.always had been. Over the years, I think that he has seen that my faith and his aren't entirely different. He did apologize to me many years after the fact for not coming to the vigil and for acting the way that he did. He saw the life that we lived and how my kids were being raised and I think it made him realize, if only in a limited capacity, that some Catholics could also be like Christians. Shocking.
I'd like to think that God used me and my family to show a positive picture of Catholicism. I hope that God continues to soften their hearts to the true faith.
No comments:
Post a Comment