Catholicism, in its mid-century Dodge City, Kansas, form and version, staked a claim to my intellectual and emotional being at the moment of Baptism, and has never let go. No matter how far afield I may roam, Catholicism taps me on the shoulder with the not-so-subtle reminder that a Good Catholic Girl would not make the statement I just made. Or laugh at the joke I just heard. Or agree with the theology just espoused by my agnostic friend.
A Good Catholic Girl is set apart. A Good Catholic Girl doesn't question. A Good Catholic Girl, whose resume includes twelve years of Catholic school, would not act in many of the ways I have during these past 70+ years. Sometimes I'm bothered by that.
But, sometimes I'm not.
Today, in nearly every group I'm with, a healthy number of the others were raised as Catholics. Very few of them are practicing Catholics, most are "fallen away," as it used to be described. "Fallen Away" is one of many coded expressions about Catholics that means they are holding an "Express Ticket to Hell." I, personally, had never intended to be a "fallen away" Catholic. It just happened.
But, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Before I fell away, I was a CATHOLIC. I have met many Catholics over time, but they really don't understand what it means to be a CATHOLIC. A CATHOLIC has taken to heart everything she was ever taught by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Wichita, KS, and everything she was ever taught by the old and grouchy Monsignor of her youth and his cadre of young seminary graduates...most of whom began attending said seminary upon graduation from Eighth Grade. It was indoctrination and fear or, not to belabor the point: INDOCTRINATION and FEAR. Whereas I wouldn't have understood those words at the time, I do now. But, at the time, I just thought it was normal to scare the shit out of little kids.
On the good side, right now my parents are sitting quite comfortably on cushy over-sized thrones in the CATHOLIC section of Heaven because of the blood, sweat and tears they expended in producing a Good Catholic Girl. A Good Catholic Girl, however, who may have ended their lives prematurely by divorcing a Good Catholic Boy, marrying a Baptist, and becoming a Methodist. And, yes, I do have guilt about that. Actually, I have guilt about everything. One cannot be a CATHOLIC unless one is quite miserable and guilt-ridden.
Much of our misery began when we learned that the little angels did not fly us down to earth because they wanted us to be happy. No. We were placed on this planet to honor God, and perform Good Works. If you do not do both of those in the right way, and with the right intent, and with the right procedure, you are damned. To hell. Forever. Now, I can accept honoring God as a given, but Good Works are so ephemeral. I mean, what exactly is a Good Work? We learned that prayer was a Good Work. But, which ones and how many? No one had exact figures. Helping old ladies across the street was a classic Good Work. But, how old is old, and how far do I have to help her? All the way home? What if my Mom doesn't let me cross that busy street? I can't go on with this, but you will understand how my insecurities would find a real home in Good Works.
I really felt that things began looking up when Pope John XXIII invented Grace and Love back in the early '60s, but he died much too soon and Grace and Love without him nearly faded out of sight. And, I was such a fan of Grace and Love, too. It's probably why I'm a Lutheran now--they hit on that Grace thing in the 1520s. Our new Pope Francis, though, seems to be bringing Grace and Love back and I have high hopes. I know I'll always be a Catholic--even if one falls away she can never just walk away. I'll carry the good and the bad of it, because it's part of me. Part of who I am and part of why I am. I wouldn't be me without it, so I'm learning to accept and live with it. It could be worse.
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