I am not I: What if I had chosen to be confirmed?
When I was about fourteen, I started religious education classes at our church that were intended to prepare us for confirmation. The teacher was a creep who had no answers to my questions and no real interest in answering them. So I stopped going. I told my parents that I was not going to be confirmed under these circumstances. I have never been confirmed in fact, and now will never be since (although this is a long post for another day) I and the Catholic church have permanently parted ways.
What if I had been confirmed? What if I had gone on to resolve my relationship with the Catholic church? Perhaps attended a Catholic university? Found comfort and strength in a relationship with God and the church? What if…
Lent is fast approaching. My aunt has sent me the yearly book of reflections and I have been leafing through it, thinking about the forty days of Lent, so like and yet so unlike Advent. Advent always seems to me like the joyous waiting of a child for Santa. He is coming! He will come! And with him bring such presents as I have never hoped for. Lent is a sadder time, a more grown up time and it feels so grown up, coming at the end of winter (rather than the beginning of spring). It comes at the dull, grey end of the year and promises death and pain. It is part of knowing that I am getting older, that Lent feels more real to me, more weighty. Like snow speaks to me now not only of play but of ice, of safety, of chores to be done, of sidewalks to shovel.
I know both in my head and in my heart that life and death are part of a cycle, but to face death is still so sad. I know I ought to rejoice in Christ’s death, in the gift that it is.
And perhaps that is the point, that it is a gift and that this gift is in fact the same gift that came at Christmas, only now it is placed in our adult hands. The child that was born, grows and dies. The gift that was promised is given. Life will come again. It is something worth remembering in the cold days of February when even the worms wait far underground for the light and warmth of spring to urge them on.
My catholic raised parents opted to baptise us but when first holy communion time came around they pulled the plug, because by then they had lapsed. Now I have this empty space that wonders about my lack of catholicism/faith. Wondering if it would have been better to receive the education and the confirmation and then if I so wanted, turned my back. Made lapsing MY choice, if you will.
Now my mother tut-tuts about her grandchildren not being baptised. I tell her if you wanted baptised grandchildren you should have raised your children in the faith. Which is probably harsh because sometimes I think the catholic church never really lets you go and she probably can’t help it.
Oooh, listen to me ranting on. You touched a little nerve! I like the I Am Not I theme by the way.
My parents converted to Catholicism when I was about 13.
I always enjoyed the strong, very devout air of the Catholic church–after attending Protestant services with my grandparents, I realized the difference right away– no one falls asleep at mass!
Will you do requests? What if Stuntfather was Ambassador in Ulan Bator?
This is such a brilliant idea – and so well written. I look forward to meeting others of you!
I don’t know if you read comments way after the posting, but we should talk about Lent sometime, if you like. The way I look at it, it is definitely more along the lines of Advent than not – it is the promise of what is to come, and is more inspiring and comforting than death-filled and depressing, and it is up to us to fight our natural proclivities towards guilt and unworthiness and accept, embrace this tremendous gift that has been bestowed upon us – offered to us – precisely because we ARE worthy. It is a beautiful thing, and a difficult time because to accept such unconditional generosity is difficult. Aah, but you are worth it – and worthy.