Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit
As it was in the beginning, is now and forever shall be, world without end … Amen.
This past week, I participated in a group praying the rosary for our family friend, Frank who recently passed away. This simple act reminded me how proud i am to be a Catholic. The solemnity of the rosary, particularly in a group, is a meditation of sorts. We pray in combined reflection and the simple repeating of these prayers of our youth helps us be in touch with ourselves, each other and the person we are praying for. I watched as the family felt our strength and love - and it took me back to my own time - walking the hospital hallways 6 years ago waiting for news of whether my mom would survive her life-saving heart procedure. I must have repeated the rosary at least 2 dozen times over the course of those 48-hours. It helped me stay calm and prepare for God’s plan to unfold.
My mom grew up in rural Eastern Washington. When she was small, she and her siblings helped their parents work as migrant farm hands. They moved from place to place picking crops and mom once told me their religion was whatever church or preacher was closest. My grandma was born of a Pentecostal minister, and when my mom’s family finally moved to Spokane, they were drawn to the Pentecostal church.
Skip forward a few years and my mom and dad met at a Chinese restaurant in Spokane. My dad was a proud and faithful Catholic, attending church every Sunday no matter where on the planet he inhabited that week, brought my mom to church with him. She once told me “it only took 1 Sunday for me to know that this was the place for me.” The quiet contemplation, the togetherness in prayer, the knowledge that these traditions and practices had been handed down for centuries, not to mention the beauty in the Catholic art and symbolism that surrounded her in the church drew her to this new faith. She converted not long after they were married and was a devout Catholic until her death. All 6 of my siblings were brought up Catholic and despite all the teasing and negative reports I’ve received related to my religion, I still practice and have confidently raised my girls as Catholics.
Being one of the oldest religions in the world, Catholics comprise more than 50% of the world’s faithful. And while I certainly don’t condone or defend the abuse from priests, coming from a court background, this certainly isn’t the only religion who has abuses against children or attempts for religions to cover them up. The sheer size and reputation of the Catholic faith brings the issue front and center in the news. I am still incredibly proud of my faith and support our decision to send our girls to Catholic schools, just as Dave and I were blessed to do.
The majority of the people I come in contact with are Christians. We all share a basic belief in Jesus, the story of his birth, the belief in morality and following his teachings in the New Testament. Do good. Be kind. Follow the Golden Rule. Mom told me once that she viewed a person’s religious choice as a matter of personality. She’d not felt at home in her childhood churches where speaking out and laying on of hands when the Lord moved your spirit was not comforting for her. Preferring instead the quiet traditions of a Catholic Mass. Therefore, I’ve never once considered objecting to others choices in their religion. However, and to my great disappointment, I have been forced to defend my choice as a Catholic. I have been asked to defend “Catholic exercises”, “our boring and monotonous” masses, the actions of our priests, the Pope, the amount of money and property in the Vatican, the fact we don’t “study the bible as much as other Christian churches”, why we “worship” saints and on and on. Some people I avoid simply because I was tired of defending my level of faith against what they believed was weaker than their own.
My Catholic faith brings me closer to God, my parents, my husband and my children. It is with quiet reflection that I hold tight to my rosary beads and sit in meditation, reflecting on Frank’s life and helping his family grieve his passing, as once they did when my parents took the same journey. It’s comforting to know I belong to this worldwide network of Christians and wherever I, or my daughters, travel in this world, we can enter a Catholic Church and follow the Mass, no matter what the language, while we pray forgiveness for our sins, appreciate God’s gifts and hope our loved ones find eternal rest beside the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
