Mary, my cousins' grandmother on their dad's side of the family, passed away. This woman was 96 and had led a very full life. She was a mother of four, a grandmother of 16, and a great-grandmother to 21. She lived in the same house for 54 years, up until about 2 years ago, when she moved in with one of her daughters. Point is, she was a well-loved woman. She was also "old-school" Catholic, which meant an open casket at the wake, with prayers, followed by a full mass at church the next morning, procession to the cemetery, etc. I am all for people getting the... end... that they desire, but there is something so creepy to me about the open casket.
The family did a beautiful job of displaying photos of this woman's life. There were multiple collages and photo albums, displays of wedding pictures and holding (many) newborns for the first time. I soaked them up. I just do not understand why that is not enough. Why would we not want to remember our loved ones as they were, happy in life, instead of the way they are now? I guess some like tradition and others like closure, but I was happy to hear that none of my loved ones want this type of event.
ANYWAY, the officiant (pastor? priest? I never know.) who led the prayers talked a lot about how we should view this event as a celebration of a life well-lived. That we should not wear black, a color of sorrow, but that we should wear joyful colors. I LOVED this sentiment, but good luck making progress on that change. He spoke about how Mary would go to Heaven because she was a woman of service. She served her community, her church, her family. I loved how he spoke about how important being a mom is: that no one is ever "just" a mom, she is also a provider, a teacher.
I guess the part that bothered me was the discussion on heaven versus hell. It was said that Mary would go to heaven for her service. If there is such a place... and I do believe there is "somewhere," I just do not know *what* exactly... I am certain that she is there. She was just a lovely woman! The stereotypical perfect grandmother. The officiant spoke of sheep and goats and how Mary was a sheep and would therefore find eternal life. I guess I need to look more into where these analogies come from because my mind does not necessarily attach anything positive to being termed a "sheep." And what is so terrible about goats, anyway? This was the kicker though, apparently you can be a good person and still be a "goat" if you lack service to the church, if you have not been baptized, if you do not dedicate yourself to serving Jesus. Really? Because one chooses not to participate in an organized religion, one is relegated to the same fate as truly evil folk? I have a problem with this notion. Or is this the circles of hell concept, where "minor goats" will have a very different experience from "major goats." I have no idea. Again, I have not done enough research on the topic yet, but these were my thoughts coming out of the wake.
I am still thinking a lot about many different religious topics lately, despite my lack of posting. I am reading and thinking. Things have been a bit crazy the last month and a half and they are bound to settle down soon. Right?! We shall see. For now, I am going to strive to be the very best person, mom, wife, employee, daughter, that I can be.... if that makes me a goat, so be it.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Friday, July 5, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
The one about Religion: a history and a beginning.
Things are about to get heavy in here. I normally stay away from the more controversial of topics, but I found myself thinking about Religion, Faith, and Spirituality a lot over this past weekend and I really just need a place to purge some of these thoughts as I try to make sense of it all. This is your disclaimer to skip this post if you are easily offended or just do not care. :)
My thoughts are really jumbled right now, so this will probably be hard to follow.
We took our first trip to Ohio to visit my husband's dad and step-mom. They are regular church-goers; we are not. They celebrate the religious aspect of the Easter holiday; we "celebrate" the bunny and chocolate. They have crucifixes up in their house; I think they are kinda creepy.
Let me back up...
My mom went to Catholic school. She had services every morning before class as a regular part of her day. My dad went to church growing up too, but I honestly do not even know what church he was a part of (not a Catholic one). Basically his mom forced him to go and once he was able to stop going, he did. So, since my parents were both forced to go, I guess they decided to force me to go as well. I went to CCD and occasionally to services on Sundays. Dad did not attend, so it was just me and my mom. Going to church was still not a high priority on her list, so we were not there often. I had my first communion. I even made it to my first confession. I do not even remember how old I was at this time. 11? Maybe? Dunno. This is where things went bad. I think it was for my second or third confession that I chose to go face-to-face. This is where, instead of sitting in the confessionals, blocked by walls and screens, you just sit in a room with the priest and chat. What exactly does an 11 year-old have to confess anyway? "I talked back to mom and dad. I didn't do what I was told. I only made it to church once this month." Oops. Yeah. That last one? That did not go over well. I do not remember exactly what was said to me. All I know is that although I held out during the time that I was seated in that chair, I left the church that night in tears. This representative of the church had basically told me that I was evil for not going to church every Sunday. That my parents were evil for not taking me to church every Sunday. That I needed to beg forgiveness for all of us. Really? This seemed so wrong to me. I thought I was a pretty good kid. And my parents were my world, how could they be evil?! Anyway, it took a lot of coaxing, but I finally told my mom why I was so upset. I am sure by then that she had formulated much worse things in her head. She then told me that she had had a very similar experience growing up. That she had told her pastor that her parents did not attend church regularly and pastor had told her that they were wrong. Never mind the fact that they were immigrants who did not understand English. Or that they often worked on Sundays to pay for their two daughters. I stopped attending CCD and church after that night. I just refused to go. My mother tried on several occasions to enroll me in other programs just so I could get confirmed. In case I ever wanted to get married in a Catholic church, she said. I went a few times, but I always ended up dropping out of those programs before finishing. I was completely disappointed with "The Church" as a whole. Of course I have no idea if every church was like this, but this experience definitely ruined it for me.
Fast forward...
I am college-educated. Have an MS in a biology field, even. Trained in research and deciphering data. Data which show results of carefully formulated experiments. Experiments that demonstrate processes that you can actually SEE with your own eyes. See where this is going yet? I admit that I do not remember a lot from my CCD and church days, but as I sat in church services with my in-laws this weekend, Easter weekend, and listened to the stories about Jesus rising from the dead... Well, I felt an overwhelming sense of disbelief. And do not get me started on the immaculate conception. (And let's ignore dinosaurs and evolution as well for now.) My brain cannot process this. I do not understand how anyone can believe these things. I have no faith.
This is not to say that I think people that go to church are dumb. I actually find myself kind of envious of the people that can believe in something without ever seeing it. With no evidence at all. These people have Faith. They just *know* something. They feel it in their bones. That is pretty darn amazing. I do not know what I believe anymore. I think I believe in a Higher Power, but I am not sure that it is this version that I read about in the bible so many years ago. Like I said, my brain just does not understand how religion and science are compatible at this point. And that might just be because science is all that I have been exposed to for the last...20 years?
I started thinking about what I would tell my son as he is getting older. What will his beliefs be? Of course, he will only be exposed to these things if we choose to expose him. I would very much like for him to make his own decisions about these things. Of course, that means that I have to educate myself. Again. And for the first time in some regard. I have decided that during our next trip to the library, along with books for my little man, I will be getting a book on religion. I am not sure what the title will be, maybe it will just be a bible. I have no idea. And it will likely take me months to finish it. But I want to start and I need to start somewhere. This will be a long journey, one that I will certainly struggle with.
If you have any suggestions for a skeptic, let me know.
My thoughts are really jumbled right now, so this will probably be hard to follow.
We took our first trip to Ohio to visit my husband's dad and step-mom. They are regular church-goers; we are not. They celebrate the religious aspect of the Easter holiday; we "celebrate" the bunny and chocolate. They have crucifixes up in their house; I think they are kinda creepy.
Let me back up...
My mom went to Catholic school. She had services every morning before class as a regular part of her day. My dad went to church growing up too, but I honestly do not even know what church he was a part of (not a Catholic one). Basically his mom forced him to go and once he was able to stop going, he did. So, since my parents were both forced to go, I guess they decided to force me to go as well. I went to CCD and occasionally to services on Sundays. Dad did not attend, so it was just me and my mom. Going to church was still not a high priority on her list, so we were not there often. I had my first communion. I even made it to my first confession. I do not even remember how old I was at this time. 11? Maybe? Dunno. This is where things went bad. I think it was for my second or third confession that I chose to go face-to-face. This is where, instead of sitting in the confessionals, blocked by walls and screens, you just sit in a room with the priest and chat. What exactly does an 11 year-old have to confess anyway? "I talked back to mom and dad. I didn't do what I was told. I only made it to church once this month." Oops. Yeah. That last one? That did not go over well. I do not remember exactly what was said to me. All I know is that although I held out during the time that I was seated in that chair, I left the church that night in tears. This representative of the church had basically told me that I was evil for not going to church every Sunday. That my parents were evil for not taking me to church every Sunday. That I needed to beg forgiveness for all of us. Really? This seemed so wrong to me. I thought I was a pretty good kid. And my parents were my world, how could they be evil?! Anyway, it took a lot of coaxing, but I finally told my mom why I was so upset. I am sure by then that she had formulated much worse things in her head. She then told me that she had had a very similar experience growing up. That she had told her pastor that her parents did not attend church regularly and pastor had told her that they were wrong. Never mind the fact that they were immigrants who did not understand English. Or that they often worked on Sundays to pay for their two daughters. I stopped attending CCD and church after that night. I just refused to go. My mother tried on several occasions to enroll me in other programs just so I could get confirmed. In case I ever wanted to get married in a Catholic church, she said. I went a few times, but I always ended up dropping out of those programs before finishing. I was completely disappointed with "The Church" as a whole. Of course I have no idea if every church was like this, but this experience definitely ruined it for me.
Fast forward...
I am college-educated. Have an MS in a biology field, even. Trained in research and deciphering data. Data which show results of carefully formulated experiments. Experiments that demonstrate processes that you can actually SEE with your own eyes. See where this is going yet? I admit that I do not remember a lot from my CCD and church days, but as I sat in church services with my in-laws this weekend, Easter weekend, and listened to the stories about Jesus rising from the dead... Well, I felt an overwhelming sense of disbelief. And do not get me started on the immaculate conception. (And let's ignore dinosaurs and evolution as well for now.) My brain cannot process this. I do not understand how anyone can believe these things. I have no faith.
This is not to say that I think people that go to church are dumb. I actually find myself kind of envious of the people that can believe in something without ever seeing it. With no evidence at all. These people have Faith. They just *know* something. They feel it in their bones. That is pretty darn amazing. I do not know what I believe anymore. I think I believe in a Higher Power, but I am not sure that it is this version that I read about in the bible so many years ago. Like I said, my brain just does not understand how religion and science are compatible at this point. And that might just be because science is all that I have been exposed to for the last...20 years?
I started thinking about what I would tell my son as he is getting older. What will his beliefs be? Of course, he will only be exposed to these things if we choose to expose him. I would very much like for him to make his own decisions about these things. Of course, that means that I have to educate myself. Again. And for the first time in some regard. I have decided that during our next trip to the library, along with books for my little man, I will be getting a book on religion. I am not sure what the title will be, maybe it will just be a bible. I have no idea. And it will likely take me months to finish it. But I want to start and I need to start somewhere. This will be a long journey, one that I will certainly struggle with.
If you have any suggestions for a skeptic, let me know.
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