Growing up Catholic
Catholicism was my parents’religion. More accurately, it was my father’s; mom converted when they married. Nevertheless, growing up I never viewed it as my own. The weekly practice of going to church was foisted upon me whether I liked it or not, with the admonishment, “This will be good for you.”
As a very little boy, it was all confusing, mysterious and a little bit spooky. We put on suits and ties in those days, masses were still at least partially performed in Latin and our church, St. Mary’s, was this big old Gothic structure with high ceilings, stained glass windows and a cavernous echo effect. Half the time I had no idea what was going on.
That was to be rectified by studying for my first Holy Communion. Where I grew up, if you were Catholic, but attended public school, once a week you got out of school an hour early to travel across town to the Catholic school for religious instruction. There were kids from all across the city, who I didn’t know, and you could count the number of Black faces on the fingers of one hand. At about age 7 or 8, this was my first introduction to racism.
It was the first day. We were getting an orientation from a nun. A kid behind me started in with racist comments I still remember to this day. He told me how he hated niggers and how his father hated niggers and how he was gonna beat me up when class was over. I was terrified. I didn’t know anyone in that school and certainly hadn’t done anything to that kid.
When I told the nun after class ended, she didn’t believe me. She wanted me to point the boy out, but I had been too scared to turn around. Given that, she said there wasn’t anything she could do. That may very well have been true, but it forever colored my impressions of the church. When I looked to it for comfort and a sense of peace, it often failed to deliver. All subsequent discussions of religious values and church teachings from that point on, were looked at with a jaundiced eye and would only grow more so as I got older and began to understand the Catholic position on issues of particular importance to me.
I must say however, if there was any moment when I was willing to give the church a second chance, it was when Pope John Paul II became the pontiff. Until that time, Popes were always Italian, quite parochial in their world view, cared little about matters beyond the Vatican, Italy or Europe, and if they spoke English, it was minimal. They were inaccessible to all but the most devout.
With the United States in upheaval over civil rights, women’s rights, and gay rights, the all-White, patriarchal system of the Catholic Church always struck me as out of step. Our secular political changes created a set of expectations we wanted to see in all facets of our lives, including our religious institutions, but the church was slow to change.
But John Paul II seemed different, at least at first. He spoke several languages. He was a writer and had been a performer. He was Polish, and the first non-Italian pope in 500 years. More importantly he was interested in reaching out to the growing base of Catholics in Africa, South America, and Asia. He was willing to reach out to Moslems and Jews, even acknowledging the church should have done more during the holocaust. He seemed genuinely interested in touching real people with messages of hope.
But in reality the basic message had changed very little. Church views on the role of women haven’t changed, they still can’t be ordained as priests. Priestly vows of celibacy remain, despite the diminishing number of men interested in the profession. Homosexuality remains the great taboo, despite the presence of openly gay Catholic groups.
More recently the Pope and the church have been uncomfortably quiet on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; the US invasion of Iraq; the priest sex abuse scandal in this country; multinational corporate greed and what used to be core issues of poverty, hunger and health care.
In my personal search for a spiritual base, I have come to doubt the ability of organized religion to fit my needs. Beyond perpetuating its own existence and furthering what seems to be an increasingly divisive political agenda, I am not sure what role the Catholic church plays in engendering a sense of humanity and compassion for all mankind. Perhaps a new pope will bring a different vision. I won’t hold my breath waiting.
Posted by bernie at April 5, 2005 1:08 AMTrackBack