Church Lady

WARNING: THEY SAY YOU SHOULDN'T DISCUSS RELIGION OR POLITICS WITH FRIENDS. I AM ABOUT TO IGNORE THAT RULE.

Today I went to church.....to Catholic church, as I have many, many, many Sundays of my life. I've gotten into a bad habit.....I get to the last Mass at the last minute. Like today, I got to the 12 noon Mass at about 12:24. And it generally ends by about 12:45.

It reminds me of Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher from my childhood, who would also arrive very late into the Mass. Every Sunday. I guess I wondered back then why they couldn't plan a little better--how can you be late every week for something that has a firm starting time? Now, I completely understand.

For a little while--a month or two, recently--I stopped going. I became disillusioned and deflated when H. and Fig were disillusioned with the church and stopped going. They still make appearances on Palm Sunday, Easter, and Christmas.

I felt like why should I go if Fig, whom I really wanted to pass my faith onto, was not going? I was furious at H. [still am if I think about it, but the couples counselor says it doesn't help to dwell on the past] for taking her side. Yes, she was crying and arguing that we were forcing her to go when she didn't believe. She had gone till age 13.

I know in my heart that a lot of it had to do with some of her friends, who call themselves aetheists.

Hand-me-down Hail Marys
A lot of why I go is because I was brought up to go. I figure it's a legacy that my grandparents and parents handed down to me. It's something I wouldn't want to lose--kind of like a family tradition--like eggnog on Christmas Eve in my grandmother's cut-glass crystal bowl. But now the bowl broke. It started with a small crack and then it was gone. Now if we're home on Christmas Eve [not up in Maine], I still have the eggnog but it's often a storebought quart poured from the carton, not the homemade kind.

Likewise, the Catholic faith must have meant much more--or something much different--to my mother than it does to me. She's not here, so I can't ask her, but I wish I could, and I wish I did when I had the chance. To her it seems like it was real eggnog with beaten egg whites in a fancy cut-glass bowl; to me, it's a shortcut but still a tradition.

I especially like to go to church when I travel, if I can fit it in timewise. I like going on Cape Cod, where everyone is in summery clothes and sandals, and in Maine, in the little old white church. I liked going in college, to Voorhees Chapel on the Douglass College campus, right by the old green ravine bridge.

I like the universal voice--I'm saying Our Fathers in New Jersey, and other people are saying them in California, Florida, Wisconsin. I like the unity. I like talking to God in my mind, acknowledging a presence greater than me, and shaking hands and saying "Peace be with you" when the priest says "Let us offer each other a sign of peace." I really like some of the songs, especially "Amazing Grace," "Be Not Afraid," and "Here I Am, Lord." I like Father Jack, the pastor. I went and talked to him in his office once, crying over a problem, and he gave me good, calm advice.

I don't like the old-fashioned rules and heavy judgments. I grapple with seeing things in black and white in a church with stained-glass windows. I guess I take what I want and sift out the rest. I especially don't like it when they shake a can after Mass and give you a paper rose or something if you make a Right to Life donation. I like to keep my prayers separate from my politics.

I want to write more about this, but the Oscars aren't over yet and I don't want to lose my spot on the couch. Colin Firth is calling.