Leap of Faith

As a cradle Catholic, I've never thought much about my religion.  It's who I was and what I did.  I can remember following along with the missalette when I could barely read; cleaning the church (grudgingly I admit) with my mom and grandma, the smell of lemon-scented Pledge forever taking me back to those Saturday mornings; wishing I could be a server like my brothers (luckily my girls will get to!)  And then I grew up and fell in love with a Catholic boy.  I guess when it's all you know, it's all you know.  You have no reason to question any of it.

But others have.  Most have been innocent curiosities.  The coworker who asks about purgatory.  A friend who asked why we didn't believe in the Resurrection.  (What?!  She innocently said she had been raised to believe that we have Jesus hanging on the cross because we don't believe he was raised from the dead.  !!!  It was a good discussion though--and a chance to explain the crucifix as a powerful reminder of His ultimate sacrifice.)  But about a year ago, a coworker pointed out that Jesus didn't command us to celebrate Lent--that it's not mentioned at all in the Bible, and to do so was a sacrilegious defiance of His Word.  Ouch.  Despite our discussion, neither of our minds was changed.  You can't argue or prove faith, after all.  Then The Bible mini-series came out and a "friend" on Facebook attacked it saying "What can you expect from Catholics who worship Mary instead of Christ."  That lead to numerous back-and-forth private Facebook messages in which he told me everything we were doing wrong and how he was simply trying to save me from continuing down the wrong path.  I soon took it upon myself to have one less person on my Friend list.  Growing up in a predominantly Protestant community, I knew my sisters had been the object of such ridicule, but I luckily had somehow escaped, or had been too oblivious to notice.  I was appalled that people who called themselves Christians could be so awful.

But then it got me thinking. . . what if they're right?!  What if we have it wrong. . . ?  What if this was God sending me a message???

Coincidentally enough, R and I then began a study at church called Catholicism by Father Robert Barron.  WOW.  I left each week empowered and in awe of my faith.  His sermons are so down-to-earth and inspirational.  We then did his series The Eucharist, and watched The Lamb's Supper by Scott Hahn.  It was as if everything I had been doubting or questioning was suddenly clear.

Then this past week, my friend's brother passed away from influenza complications.  It hit way too close to home.  At the funeral mass, I nervously sat in the pew with my non-Catholic coworkers.  I felt like all eyes were on me as I crossed myself and knelt down.  I'll admit that some Sundays, the routine of mass is painfully monotonous.  It's easy to go through the motions and say, "And with your spirit" and stand and kneel and sit without really thinking about what I'm doing.  But on this day, it was as if I'd never before heard the words.  I think I was super sensitive that something would be said to offend them or to give them "ammunition."  What if the priest said something about our reverence to Mary?  What if he talked about Lent?  What if his sermon went against what they believe?  All of my fears, of course, were unfounded.  Simply put, it was absolutely beautiful.  When the priest read the Gospel about Martha asking Jesus where He was, and why He didn't save her brother, I sobbed.  I too, have asked the same thing.  And then the priest delivered his sermon and reminded us all that the deceased isn't dead, he's very much alive with Jesus in the life that He promised.  And that anyone who believes in the Resurrection (See? We do believe!) will never die but have eternal life.  Every song, every prayer, every reading was amazing.  I found myself shaking with emotion and my eyes welling up with tears--some from sorrow, some from shame at being nervous, some from an overwhelming love of my faith.  I realized how beautiful the mass is--and how often I take it for granted.  It was truly one of those "out of body experiences" that could only come from the Holy Spirit.

The next day a coworker stopped me in the hall.  She said she had lots of questions for me and that while mass took her breath away, she left the funeral feeling absolutely terrible.  "Why?!" I asked, nervous about what she had seen or heard to make her feel awful.  "I couldn't get over the reverence, the holiness, of your church.  Mine's a dog and pony show, and I just kept thinking, 'Wow, we're missing the boat here.' There's something to be said for that tradition."  I walked away feeling an absolute peace within my soul.

Sassy recently asked what would happen if she marries someone from a different church.  She's making her First Communion soon and starting to realize what our faith means.  We told her that together, the two of them would have to figure out the best fit for their relationship, and decide which feels most like home.  I'm blessed that the decision made for me almost forty years ago is the same decision I would make today. 

As one of my favorite Father Barron quotes states:  "Faith is not having to have all the answers, but trusting in The One who does."  And for now, that's more than enough.