April 27, 2025 Casual Catholic

I do a lot of reflecting on Sundays. That's when God and I have our best conversations. By most standards, I'm not what the general public would refer to as a "good" Catholic. I would disagree with that; I'm a casual Catholic. I live by my faith, even if I don't demonstrate it each week by attending Mass. If I may, I'd like to share a few things that have brought me to this.

I attended Catholic school until 8th grade, graduating in a class of 42. During that time, I experienced many good teachers, mostly nuns, but also had a few rotten apples. This, I realize, is the case in every educational setting, not exclusively limited to private schools. After seeing the way those women were treated and how they lived, it brought some form of understanding of why some appeared broken when it came to working with children. The one thing that resonated, however, was they never forgot we were just that; children.

The priests came in various forms, as well. Some felt it was their duty to terrify us into thinking that just one tiny misstep would send us straight to Hell. Then there were those who took their vows very much to heart and walked a gentler path. My grandmother was housekeeper for one such soul. He was like a member of our family.

Then there were those whose proclivity included children. I had contact with one as a child at confession. It was a Saturday afternoon, and like clockwork, Mom directed me to church for confession. We lived just a block from church, so no excuses when it came to hustling there alone.

I was in grade school, just a little girl. On that particular day, I was grilled in the confessional about things that no child should have been asked. At the time, I didn't know about pedofiles, but enough to know that the things he was saying to me were so very wrong somehow. I said nothing that day, to anyone. Communicating would somehow make me responsible for what happened. I mean who would believe me over the authority he wielded?

The next Saturday, once again directed to church, I hid in a neighbor's yard instead. Of course, I was caught. I had no choice but to tell Mom what had happened the week before. Instead of being blamed, I was never told to go to confession again. One sacrament ruined.

Then there was the priest who taught CCD. One Thursday night, he stood before us, I believe we were juniors. and ranted on how kissing just spread germs and other bizarre observations, then put on a similarly ridiculous audio tape for us to listen while he sat in the back of the room, reading his Bible. Many of us recounted this to our parents. I was pulled out of CCD. Another fallen angel.

Randy and I attended Precana classes in advance of our wedding. We felt they were valuable and were glad to have done them. However, the interview with the same priest from the confessional proved again that this man was not fulfilling his role of being Christ-like. His whole approach was completely inappropriate. Many a couple got a good laugh out of his technique. For me, it was yet another letdown.

Finally, and most recently, during the time, about 6 months, I was studying daily for a national board exam, I requested a break from lecturing at Mass. The person in charge was terrific about it and encouraged me to let her know when I was ready to resume. Our pastor, unfortunately, did not feel as generous. He confronted me at a funeral, right before it was to begin, in front of everyone present, accusing me of quitting him, chastising me by saying my mother wouldn't approve (she didn't even recognize me at this point). He was so loud the entire church looked to see who was catching it. It was humiliating.

I only go to church for weddings and funerals at this point.

Now, I'm no victim. I hope it isn't coming off that way. I have learned what I can tolerate, and what I won't. I'm imperfect, for sure, but I do try hard to be a good person.

Large crowds bother me, so giving myself grace not to put myself in that position does my mental health good. If I thought for a moment I could just go to Mass and have everyone leave me alone, I'd likely go back. For now, my disillusioned attitude keeps me home, having private conversations with God instead. I'm past willing to take a chance on another person of God letting me down in my choice of religion.

I guess the best way to put it is that I invite Him into my home, rather than go to His. I do believe He understands.

Thanks for giving me grace. ☘