Losing my religion... partie deux

So, now you've had time to absorb and wrestle with the first part of my personal manifesto. But maybe for those of you not most familiar with me, you need some context.

Context

I was born, baptized, educated, and confirmed in the arms of the Roman Catholic Church, mostly within St. Francis of Assisi parish, in Rochester, MN, a church like many that struggled internally between the pre-Vatican II conversative old guard (really old, really white, really colonial/imperialistic, really misogynist, really arrogant, really pompous, often sanctimonious guard) constantly looking down upon and battling the rest of "the Church", who wanted to finally rise out of the Dark Ages and figure out faith, belief, and worship in a modern, relatable way. It was a general atmosphere to feel guilt for most, if not all, human urges/imperatives, to believe with abandon, to worship with fervor, to love self and others with God/Jesus/Holy Spirit looking over your shoulder.

On a more personal level, I did NOT experience the kinds of fundamentalism often exposed in the stories of so many others, including in other faith traditions. My churches and parochial schools were quaint. The fire-and-brimstone was VERY mild, if more than subliminally present... maybe more passive-aggressive than outright forceful. The clergy were primarily Franciscans, a very small number of Jesuits scattered about, and an occasional Dominican or Carmelite thrown into the mix, just for ecclesiastical shits and giggles.

I was an altar boy AND a Boy Scout in our parish. Spared the horrors of too many heartbreaking stories of young boys and men (horrors THAT NO ONE SHOULD EVER BE SUBJECTED TO), I was never approached and molested by clergy... or anyone else. (Was I lucky or was that the norm?) As an altar boy, a role most boys were expected by their devout families to perform, I was dutiful and solemn (mostly 😏). I attended many very early weekday morning and Sunday services. I saw my share of funerals... which subconsciously made an impression on me I was never able to shake... I think in a positive way... using familiar, communal ritual to deal with personal and collective grief. I participated in a small number of a much more joyous occasions, baptisms, first communions, weddings (usually family ones... LOTS of aunts, uncles, and older cousins). I stopped being a regular altar boy some time in high school (aren't I getting bit old for this?). Those memories are fond in nature... time spent with fellow classmates/friends carrying out our duties... eyes on us during services (don't trip, don't fall, don't forget what to do when!)... the donning of simple vestments (putting on a uniform/costume changes so many things, but especially tone)... the occasional post funeral luncheons... the simple appreciation from adults... the satisfaction and relief of getting it done. Looking back, being an integral part of communal rituals like that was more meaningful than I ever could have realized at the time.

I went to Catholic school for 12 years, 1st-8th at St. Francis of Assisi and high school at Our Lady of Lourdes (the old 1942 location!). Kindergarten was at a public school back then. They weren't bad schools. They were small, or as some might say, intimate. Most families new each other well enough, but maybe not as much as the kids new each other, even across grades. There were a small number of "legacies", where more than 1 or two kids attended at different times... even a few of generational legacies. Unlike the TV and movie portrayals, we had a scant number of nuns teaching in the elementary and middle grades (one of my 7th-8th grade teachers had actually dated one of my uncles in their high school days, before her journey to the convent 😏). Our principle was an angel of a human being, Sister Yvette. A couple priests might extend their parish duties to be in the classroom from time to time, especially for an occasional religious class, but never regularly. My high school had only one nun in the front office and a couple priests teaching a few number of mandatory religious classes. Everyone else were your typical lay, but Catholic, educators, a variety of experiences and personalities that made for some interesting stories... maybe I'll explore the more loving memories in later posts.

My parochial education was NOT sub-par in any intellectual way whatsoever. There was no ideological dumbfuckery injected into our scientific, linguistic, or cultural/sociology lessons. We were taught proper cosmology, physics, and evolution as fact (gasp!). We were taught ALL the specifics of human biology and physiology... including real, honest, quite clinical, lessons regarding sex and reproduction. Knowledge was important... if you knew WHAT to do, you also knew what you weren't supposed to do... especially if you wanted to avoid complications later. We studied the classics of philosophy and literature (though almost exclusively, but admittedly, 'Western' sources). We learned about other faith traditions WITHOUT being smugly judgmental or dismissive. Our trip across the street to the Greek Orthodox church was especially enlightening as THEIR pastor was MARRIED (gasp!). When we were told that, everyone would inevitably swivel our heads to our priest usually accompanying us, with the look of pity and/or "the joke's on you, dude", with a smirk or giggle thrown in. I know many boys discussed the option of 'switching teams', should the calling come 🤣😂.

Sex, especially homosexuality, was formally frowned upon, of course, but that didn't mean we didn't want it. We had all the same desires and urges as the "public school kids" (you'd think they were all heathens/pagans, which was far from the case). We were supposed to suppress all of it (regardless of orientation or physical maturity) though... we were too young, unmarried, and canonically heterosexual. Most often, that suppression led to an increased desire to indulge in what you could, when you could, with whoever was willing... and boy, let me tell you, did some kids INDULGE (not ME, of course, because I was a good boy 😉), many times in alcohol and/or drug-assisted frenzies, but always hormonally fueled. Like any other population, some kids... yes, we were KIDS... developed some pretty notorious reputations in high school... and even junior high. However, given the environment, homosexuality and any expression/manifestation of it was definitely suppressed, even among the kids so desperately needing to come out and be respectfully recognized for who they were. 'Fag", "homo", "queer" and "gay" were still common and acceptable slurs, sadly. Years later, it was easy to reminisce and recognize those among my classmates who were queer, even before they finally liberated themselves from their shackles while in college or later. However, I believe that regardless of our religious upbringing, my generation (with notable exceptions) grew to be far more tolerant of, accepting of, and even supportive of and allied with our LGBTQ+ peers... because THAT is the truly loving thing (in the most Christ-like way) to do. Those still stuck in the rigid, uber-conservative, relative moralism were just shitty people to begin with and remained to be.

My theology classes my senior year of high school really opened my eyes... to the absurd lengths that were contrived to intellectualize faith, like it was something real, like science. Our teacher, a priest, was smart, kind and of a VERY interesting background. He was raised in the United Methodist community. While he was in high school, he began to look up, look around, ask questions... leading to... "what are all those Catholics about?". During his faith journey, he decided that he didn't just want to "switch" to Catholicism, he wanted to enter the seminary and become a Catholic priest. So, he brought a unique perspective to us, as well. Our curriculum was based on official Church texts documenting accepted dogma and doctrine along with the history and reasoning. A significant source at that time were a number of texts authored by none other than arch-conservative Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the man later selected to become the head of the Roman Catholic Church as Pope Benedict XVI 🙄 (not a fan). By the end of this class, coinciding with the end of high school, my eyes had been opened... and boyo, did I have more questions than I started with. In the end, as I stated earlier, all I saw was logical buffoonery asserting idiosyncratic personal and collective belief as universally intellectual fact. Yeah... and I silently, internally, called bullshit.

I had one priest during my senior year in high school who kept pestering me about joining the seminary. I was annoyed. I had no desire, no "calling" that those who would choose the path would talk about (my "calling" came later... it was architecture). After reaching the point of exasperation, I talked to my theology teacher. He said, it's ok, he'd talk to the other priest. He said he didn't think I was candidate material anyways 🤣😂. The largest part of me was relieved... a teensy, tiny part of me was like, WTF?... but only for a brief, narcissistic moment (what, you think I'm not good enough, smart enough, why you... oh, yeah... never mind... whew!).

The happiest day of my young life was getting accepted to Iowa State University while late in my junior year of high school (I was the first in my class to apply and get accepted to college!). A light at the end of the tunnel. A light of no more mandatory religion classes 0r masses, no more subtle and not-so-subtle atmosphere of religiosity. Full bore secularism, here I come! 😂🤣. Upon high school graduation, it really sunk in... I could close a chapter, maybe even a whole volume, on the story of my life and start developing something new, something unknown, but exciting in all its prospects. I might fail miserably or be completely wrong, but it was mine to figure out for myself, not have it dictated to me.

I've seen many older (and some not so old 🥹) members of my family and family friends pass away over the years. Most were remembered very traditionally through wakes and masses and burials. When I was younger, death was hard to process because it was so hard to understand... as I got a little older it was more tragic as it took loved ones away from me that I felt didn't deserve it. What was God thinking? Why would he let this happen? Where is the lesson in it? Why... why... why...? In early adulthood to now, I know... death is an inevitable consequence of life... not a force itself... it has no intent, no malice... it is the end. Doesn't make it any easier to accept, especially under less than "ideal" circumstances, but it does make it easier to face.

Over time, my performative religiosity eroded. Simultaneously, I did not want to radically rock the boat and cause significant distress to many members of my immediate and extended family who still held closely to their faith. I respect their choices (mostly, except for any manifestations of discrimination) as much as I hope they respect mine. A few times, discussions were had... careful and far from heated, but nothing coercive. I gradually participated less and less in masses and overtly religious ceremonies. My wife and I had a very simple, nondenominational wedding with NO mass (it was in a wedding chapel at Riverbend Church... more on that story later perhaps?) and my children were not baptized as babies (that's up to them). I don't want a funeral mass (a good ol' drunken wake/party, even if partially online is warranted... it's for y'all, not me). I don't want my remains in a casket or urn burial in a stodgy cemetery (compost me or cremate and scatter the ashes). They are not needed.

So now you've got background... a sense of where I'm coming from. It's not a from a radical place. It's not a revolutionary's fight. It's not one of spite or derision. It's been an evolution... informed, experienced, questioned, reasoned, debated. It's authentic to me. Granted we are shaped, both positively and negatively, by the people in our lives, but religion, faith, belief, are highly personal, even in a larger collective social context. I am not alone, though... and I do find comfort in that.

Part III, the second part of my manifesto, what I do believe, is next.