Paved Roads and Good Intentions

My name is Jennifer, and I'm a Recovering Catholic...

Tomorrow, for the first time is 32 years, I'm attending Mass. On Purpose. And willingly. I've decided to give up my preconceived prejudices regarding the Church for Lent. You might ask, "Why does a Recovering Catholic observe Lent?" And that's a fair question. The answer is simple. I have no idea, but this experiment is my attempt at finding out!

I have issues with the Church. Some are real and some are probably imagined. But all of them are based on the knowledge of a six/seven year old. That's how old I was when my mother received a letter from our Church telling her she could no longer take Communion, but her tithe was still welcome. I guess in the 70's that's what happened if you divorced without an annulment and remarried outside the Church.

To bring even more excitement into the mix, as a child I suffered from scrupulosity. I would spend sleepless nights obsessing over stigmata and possession. I would worry about going to hell and I would worry about going to heaven and getting kicked out because I wasn't good enough to be there. Now, of course, I'm aware that I suffer from OCD. But as a child, I just thought I was evil. As I grew up, I blamed the Church for my OCD. Natural scapegoat when you don't think life is fair. Blame God, right?

As a young woman, the most pivotal event in my life brought to the surface feelings of such intense disdain and revulsion toward the Church that it sometimes hurt to breathe. I lost a child. Her name was Lauren and she was so beautiful. And she died without being christened. According to the Church, my daughter would never see the full glory of God. And I hated the Church for that. How could a Church that was supposed to surround people with love turn it's back on them when they needed God the most? Divorcees, homosexuals, women who'd aborted babies, babies who died without being christened? Of course, the Pope, in his infinite wisdom (insert sarcasm here), has decided that that's no longer the case and my daughter got to go to heaven, after all. Instead of making me feel better, his decision just made me mad. Who was he to decide something like that? Still, when my next child, Jacob, was born, he was christened before leaving the hospital.

It isn't a surprise that I have a problem with organized religion. A part of me believes that it was created to tax and control the masses and nothing more. That all the rules and regulations impede our natural ability to communicate with God on a personal level.

Yet the Church calls to me. Even though I'm not a practicing Catholic, when asked about my faith, I say I'm a recovering Catholic. I don't say, "I don't go to church." I don't say, "Well, we've been going to the Unitarian church." I'm beginning to think that my animosity and anger toward the Church is a result of envy. Envy that others have found an instrument to tap into the Holy Spirit and I've been left out- turned away. I'm beginning to think that my wounds are self-inflicted. I'm beginning to think that it's time to heal.

And, as I told my friend Keli tonight- if the church doesn't come crashing down when I step inside, I'm going to pray for the Saints to win the Superbowl!