What Is The Matter with Us?

You know how you’re not supposed to discuss religion, politics, or sex if you want to have a peace-filled and conflict-free gathering among friends? Well, the other day, a group of us were talking about a book we had all read about modern Irish history which included as a predominant topic the collapse of the Church’s power and influence in this once most Catholic of nations. Needless to say, all three topics, politics and sex, but especially religion, not only came up but came up with a vengeance.

All of us were (and still are!) women and all formerly or marginally or still semi-practicing Catholics – except for one lone Protestant. She expressed both dismay and outrage at Ireland’s and our own religion which spurred her on to do some vigorously Protestant ‘protest’ to the tune of “How can you have any connection at all with that religion when… (fill in here the Catholic bashing words of your choice)”.

I won’t keep you in suspense: nobody wound up in the ER…whether Hell or Purgatory is in our future, however, is to be decided! Oh, and yes, we are all still friends.

The discussion started when one of the younger women who has a child in grade school told us about the family’s attending a recent meeting regarding CCD classes for the year. I’m paraphrasing here, but, as I remember, she said the theme for this term was to be something on the order of “Our Bodies Are Not Our Own”. Hmmm. Wonder what could possibly be the underlying motive here? She and her husband did not even wonder. They bristled with disbelief and then indignation, so much so their little girl grabbed both their arms and hissed, “Don’t you say anything. I want to do this.”

The incident set us gasping, too, but our non-Catholic friend was beside herself. ‘How can you have let yourselves and now your children be exposed to such propaganda? How can you have been part of such an evil institution? How can you still connect yourselves with it, support it?

We quickly pointed out we don’t support the “big C” church in its monstrously horrific actions in the Ireland covered in our discussion book or anywhere else. And we certainly don’t support its repression of women in any age, including our own. In fact, each one of us is an active participant in numerous reform and renewal organizations, works diligently to support positive change in the Church, and fully engages in our own forms of “protestant-like protesting”. And yet, although many of us have made lateral moves to alternative expressions of liturgical and Eucharistic communities – especially those led by women – none of us have completely left the Church.

Our now totally perplexed friend threw up her hands, “Why? Why?” she asked. Our initial unified response came almost simultaneously: ‘because it is too much a part of us and of who we are.’ The logical follow-up question our friend might have asked – ‘Then what’s the matter with you?’ – was thankfully only implied, but the questioning itself did turn us inward to search for more answers.

What I’ll report next came off the top of our heads (which many think generates the most honest responses anyway), and nothing was explored in any depth. The many caveats and qualifications we could have added to what we replied also remained largely unexpressed. Nevertheless, this is what I heard us say and what I thought could have been richly examined further if we had had more time. What would you have replied?

One of our first answers to why we remain connected was: “community”. The Catholic sense of community had helped make us who we are and continues to do so. Our non-Catholic friend immediately jumped in assuring us Protestants had a good deal of focus on community and began listing prayer meetings, church picnics, covered dish suppers, fellowship after services, etc. We then clarified that our particular experience as Catholics expanded the word “community” to include not only the local neighborhoods but the world itself. True, our parish lives also embraced the camaraderie building she had just described, but, although important, the result was only a small part of what we meant by community. A better explanation I thought came through the embedded message given to us every time we received communion at each (and every) mass: Now that you have been fed by our gathering together, by the liturgy, the Word, and the Eucharist, you are to go out to serve the world, especially the poor and marginalized, and whoever is in need wherever they may be.

As a second reply, we mentioned our Catholic roots giving us a “sacramental view of the world”. Within and without the actual physical church, we could look around and know grace was pouring forth, and abiding, and sustaining, us. We were living on sacred ground, and the vast world, the earth and its creatures, each other, and ourselves were both sacred and sanctified.

Then one person mentioned something I had not thought about but want to examine more deeply sometime. She said, when in Church, she had a sense of humbleness in herself and those around her unlike any she experienced in secular life. She did not elaborate, but I had sensed it, too, at times. It felt like a gift, a profound and enriching and unifying way to approach the world.

Finally, we reiterated what we saw as so encouraging about the little girl’s check on her parents at the CCD meeting: her realizing she did have to check them! She was telling them to relax. They had taught her well; she was not about to let herself be brainwashed by patriarchal nonsense. She had just, at this point, found some aspects in this religion that she loved – and she also just wanted to be with her friends.