I started to write this post last December. There's still a saved draft sitting there that I didn't turn into this actual post because I wanted to start fresh. What's worse than the fact that it's been 6 months since I started is that it's been over a year since this one was put on my heart. I've been living in a whale belly for so long that I've built a house out of the ribs.
I need to be 100% clear that this post is based on my experience being raised Catholic and mine alone. I cannot speak for anyone else's experience. I've been given stories and anecdotes by others, but I'm not here to pile on. I'm here to bring some things out into the light that I've noticed, and let you make of them what you will.
As a Catholic, I knew jack with a side of squat about the bible. Everything I did know about it, I knew from my sister's Precious Moments book of kids' bible stories. Tiny, bite-sized, easily digested, heavily filtered heavenly father. I often say I knew God to say hi to in the hallways, but not have a conversation with. Now that I've been away from it for longer than I was in it, I've pinpointed the "why" in my case.
1) We were never encouraged to read the Bible. Never. Church on Sundays was a gospel, a reading from whatever book (often the same ones on rotation), and a quick homily that held no more biblical wisdom than a bumper sticker. It was as though the conceit of the past that holy texts were only for the privileged few was still in full force. If we needed to know anything from the Bible, the priest would tell us. There was no need to go digging for ourselves. I also now wonder if that's because they knew that so much of what is practiced in a Catholic church has no foundation in God's word.
On top of this, questions were not only discouraged, but actively looked down on. To ask a question, to try to get context or clarification, was to reveal that you were a bad Catholic - how dare you not just take your regurgitated, rotated 6 Bible verses and never want more. I figured that had to be right back then, but now I find it quite ludicrous. To quote a pastor I heard a few years back in a multi-church gathering, "God can handle your questions." The idea that the Almighty can't handle confusion from human hearts and minds about cosmic wonders and the grand design is such a narrow view.
And so much is lost in not asking. My pastor takes questions. He explains historical context. He brings in other verses to clarify. And when I leave a sermon, I leave knowing and understanding more. Knowing God more. Feeling closer to my Father, and to understanding. To rob people of that deep, rich, three-dimensional view of our creator is surely a cruel act, meant as such or not.
2) Access to God and His promised gifts was restricted. In Exodus, access to God's presence is, in fact, restricted. The entire encampment couldn't just go pull up a cushion and chit chat. But He did give gifts directly to the people even then - mana, quail, water. And if you fast-forward into the New Testament, (spoiler alert - it's a big one), Jesus dies for our sins so that we may approach the father. We are His beloved children, ever welcome. Why, then, when the Bible says we can talk to God directly and confess our sins to him, does the Catholic church require confession to a priest? God's grace doesn't need an earthly bouncer. His forgiveness doesn't come from our actions, but from the changed heart behind it.
The idea that ritualistic "penance" somehow has the power to cleanse rather than God himself is deeply arrogant, though I'm quite sure most don't intend it that way. That sins can be forgiven posthumously via prayers from others, when that soul is no longer earthbound to experience a change of heart reeks of the indulgences from "purgatory" in medieval times.
This, too, led to me not wanting to "bother" God with anything that wasn't life or death. I prayed every night, but I didn't bring anything to Him that wasn't a capital "P" Problem. I imagined I was annoying Him. Bugging Him. Asking for help without trying to fix it myself. Which, if you're familiar with the Bible, is what you're not supposed to do. He wants us to go to him first. He wants to be there with us for everything - big and little. Unlike older siblings, God doesn't mind when you talk for ages. He's happy to hear his children.
3) Ritual is prized over relationship. I didn't see a focus on relationship with God. With His attributes, His wisdom, His promises, or His desire for us to be close to Him. Instead, the spotlight was on how long you knelt. How many times you prayed your rosary. Whether you remembered the proper order of prayers or the call and response and associated hand motions. Joyful noise was strewn by the wayside, and stoic conformity stocked up like communion wafers.
4) If you thought it, you did it. This one, I think, is nearly impossible to reconcile for anyone with trauma, anxiety, depression, etc. The symbolism is the reality. The thought is the action. Grumbled internally about wanting to throw your cubicle-mate's carrots out the window the next time she crunches during a meeting? Congratulations - you just stole and destroyed property. Even the precogs in Minority Report were a little less nit-picky.
I remember the first time we had communion at my new church. After taking the wafer, I realized that it wouldn't be gluten-free, so I couldn't eat it without getting violently ill and having symptoms for weeks. I nervously approached my pastor's daughter, who I'd had a Bible study with and was therefore more comfortable with, and asked with absolute dismay what to do with it. It was THE BODY OF CHRIST! Anything other than taking it was quite unacceptable in my youth.
Jen, to her credit, didn't laugh at me. She just said, "Stephane, it's a cracker. God knows your heart - He's not going to think you're bad if you throw it away." What a freaking revelation. I wasn't throwing Jesus in the trash. Jesus was in my heart - the cracker was in the trash.
5) Baptism is a given, not by God, but by humans. There is nowhere in the Bible where a baptism is the cause of salvation. It is a symbolic death to your past that is given after salvation. An act of obedience for the great gift you've received. And I can say it's not anywhere in the Bible with a great deal more authority now, as I've actually been encouraged to read it and have done so.
When my oldest daughter was born, she had a congenital heart defect. Catholic (and well-meaning) family members wanted to sneakily baptize her when I said I wouldn't be doing infant baptism so that she would go to heaven if she died before or during her surgery. If I believed for one moment that God would toss an infant into the fiery pit for an original sin that was already paid for by Jesus' death, I can quite guarantee I would not be baptized myself because I'd be sprinting away from the church, as I did at the age of 15.
There's more, but I'm not trying to throw stones. This is the extent of what was on my heart to put here. This is the crux of what I wanted to say. I grew up with a cardboard cutout version of God, and have been given the gift of knowledge of a full, living, amazing God that I had no idea was there. I want everyone to have that. To have Him. To not accept the scales on their eyes, but view the full glory of our Father.
