Do you practice religion?
The question, Do you practice religion? feels vague and like a loaded gun all at once. Practice feels up to interpretation.Yes, I practice a religion. But the how feels so heavy-handed. I grew up in a Presbyterian / Catholic household. Now my father, the Catholic, was non-practicing. While my mother, the Presbyterian, is the one who took my brother and I to church. We would go to Sunday school, say prayers at dinner and bedtime, and celebrate a few holidays. But I never truly considered it practicing a religion.
I never understood the inner workings of the faith I was being raised in. I’m not sure my mom did either. When we would go to church, we would listen to the pastor’s message and take it at what it was. I know my mom’s bible had notes in it and if I would look at it now, there would be scribbles from when I was a bored child. In my Sunday school classes, I would listen to the favorites of the bible like David and Goliath or the Garden of Eden. But once I walked outside those doors, I never gave it much thought. I knew God was with me and I didn’t care what was the origins of the faith I was following.
As I reached middle school, I developed a fascination with the Tudor family. Now you may wonder what the Tudors, a royal English family, have to do with religion. Well, it deals with it a lot. Until King Henry VIII sought a divorce, the English were Catholic. It wasn’t until the Pope refused his divorce did he become interested in the reformation of the church. I had never heard of the reformation before. I knew there were different branches of Christianity, but I never knew why. I chalked it up to different flavors, kind of like ice cream. You picked what you liked best. But after reading how King Henry broke away and created the Church of England. This made the wheels in my head spin. How was the Presbyterian Church created?
I ate up book after book learning about the faith.
In high school, I would go to church with my mom still, but it felt empty. My faith felt empty and lukewarm, as if I had sat in bathwater for far too long. A lot of my friends were making their confirmation. But there was a part of me that couldn’t do it. I was trying to unweave how the Presbyterian Church was related to the Church of Scotland, but how the American Presbyterian churches followed along the path of Calvinism. It overwhelmed me. I couldn’t confirm my faith to one that I didn’t fully understand.
College was where I had the chance to truly pick apart different faiths. I stuck with the Abrahamic religions. Those were the ones that made the most sense. But the more I picked them apart, the more I fell in love with how the Catholics worshiped. The traditions that were rooted so deeply that if I went to a different state, I would receive the same message. Yes, the homilies varied; they differ at every Mass, but the readings remained the same.
It wasn’t until my mid twenties did I feel comfortable enough with my decision. I began the reformation class, which I needed to convert. I felt grounded in the rich history and speaking with the priest. I also appreciated that he didn’t shun or shame anyone for the faiths they grew up in. When I was younger, I remember at the two different churches how the youth pastors would dog on the other christian faiths. It didn’t sit well with me. We were supposed to love one another, not rip each other apart. What stuck with me the most was my priest expressing how jealous he was that the Protestant prayed. As if they had an open connection with God. He said that he wished more people in our congregation felt that they were open about prayer and their conversation with God. It made me feel comfortable with the idea that my prayers had still been heard even though I was of a different faith.
I would go most Sundays. Not as a show of someone who was and wanting my face to be seen, but for my soul. I felt a great deal of comfort in the rituals. I never had that at the other churches that I went to. They always seemed to be something the pastor did on the fly. I know they had their sermons set up, but it just felt off.
But even with all this, I never considered myself practicing. I had a rosary that I would hold and do occasionally. I didn’t read the bible anymore than I did before. And I just took the warmth in my heart and leave each Sunday and go about my life.
It took a while for me to figure out how to add my faith to my life outside of nighttime prayers. I wanted things to feel natural and not forced, so I went back to what drove me to the feeling of comfort. Studying my religion. Oddly, social media, which I gave up for Lent, offers many helpful tools. I found the Hallow App that has guided prayers and the rosary, which I use more than I thought I would. The daily homilies are quick and easy to listen to in the car. For mass I started to use a journal from Every Scared Sunday. This allows me to reflect on the messages and I feel less guilty when I miss a Sunday service because I am still reading the Mass readings. My cousin discovered Blessed is She and purchased their advent journal for my daughter and I. It was nice to break down the days leading up to Christmas and see it as more than just a reason to buy gifts. These silly little elements have made me engage more with my faith. I am no longer a passive member, just sitting in a pew each Sunday morning. By journaling, I can apply the readings to my life.
Being active in my faith is what was missing from my youth. I know others may have had similar tools, but they didn’t resonate with my soul. I didn’t fully understand what my faith was and made that was the problem but I am glad it sent me on my journey. I love the peace I have found.
