The Catholic Debate.

From the minute I was born, I had been unquestionably consecrated to a belief that I was completely ignorant of.
In time, I had become a well-oiled religious machine--capable of following, explaining, and defending the faith of my family, my neighbors, and my friends.

I only began to question my faith after having most of my formative adolescent years dedicated to an unwavering desire to be a Carmelite nun.

And, my one moment of real reckoning came when I attended a religious retreat designed for teenage Catholics. We spent all weekend praying, fasting, and partaking in friendly communal activities... (That is, when my peers weren't having sex in the woods or smoking dope in their cabins.)

One night, we had a question-and-answer group. Everyone gathered around to ask some older Catholics questions--these people were in their early twenties, really cool, well-dressed, attractive, and in college or had really great jobs.

The point of this was to be able to see how we'd be in the future if we kept going down a righteous path. We could ask them about their families, their daily lives, their opinions on anything and everything--and always, their answers had something attributed to being Catholic.

Well, I had a friend in my class at the time who found herself at the retreat because if you attended our school it was mandatory to attend the function. However, it was common knowledge that she was a lesbian. She was also notoriously poignant about the way she was.
So it was no surprise when she started asking this very crisp-looking twenty-something Catholic woman why it was so wrong to be gay.

"Well," said the Catholic girl, "Let's be honest here...the parts just don't fit..."
"But I'm human, and I have human feelings. I'm the only being that can feel the way I feel. I'm not gay because I chose to be, I'm gay because I have the capability to recognize what I feel and for whom I feel it."
"Yes, well..." the Catholic girl sneered. "God gave you those feelings to test you. You're not supposed to act on them."
"What if I don't believe in god?"

There was a dead silence in the entire room.

I stared at her. A sick, weird feeling rose up in me...it wasn't because I was disgusted, as the rest of the people around me appeared to be, it's because in my heart I knew I believed her.

In my heart, I had always known that there were things I never agreed with about the religion in which I was brought up. Everyone told me this was simply the way it was, and that to not accept it would mean I was completely out of my mind. Upon recognizing that I wasn't docile in my mind, I realized I simply couldn't be a nun. Though I hungered to be devout, and to dedicate myself fully to something greater than myself, I knew this wouldn't be my path.

My mental rebellion made it uncomfortable to be around other people who I knew would disagree if I told them how I really felt. I began to spend my time with people who were more open-minded, and who accepted me for whatever I did or didn't believe. I began to be truly happy with myself.

These experience also helped me to see with open eyes exactly what I didn't know about being Catholic.

Though I've never had any qualms about any religion, and I remain a firm believer in the phrase 'to each his own', I know all too well the pitfalls of being so involved in one thing that you forget there are people who don't share your belief systems or ideology.

I have never wanted to be the person who told you you were wrong for believing something I do not. Just because you are different from me, does not mean that we cannot be friends.

People, for instance, who like to judge the Islamic faith most likely know absolutely nothing about it--as an educated lapsed Catholic, I can draw several parallels between Islam and Catholicism. They are not entirely different religions, but are actually more similar than one may imagine.

As an adult, I have become comfortable with who I am and what I believe. I no longer feel this guilt I often felt in childhood, the emotionless agreement to something that I had no control over. I regard myself as a thoughtful, generally good, non-religious person.

I have read and studied the Bible. I have had lessons in Latin. I have learned the particular religious meaning behind the vestments of the priest. I have examined the religious and lay callings. I know each in turn, and I respect each in turn. I enjoy the knowledge they've given me. But, in my quest to understand, I have also learned so much from opening my mind to other beliefs.
I have read on the gurus of Hinduism and Buddhism, I have been welcomed to prayer at Ramadan, and I've appreciated it all in turns.

So, why am I so annoyed at this particular incident that happened a couple of days ago?

My parents regularly receive bulletins from their diocese, and like any other bulletin it usually just follows up on the events the parish is putting on and what's generally been happening recently. This was a letter I found myself reading, and it was a little different.

This letter was from the priest who oversees the parish where my parents attend church. It was a polite, well-written letter--but the content completely dumbfounded me.
In the letter, Fr. So-and-so explained he regretted having to do so, but he was writing the letter as a matter of urgency because there were maintenance issues the church needed to take care of. The collection money, he went on, has been down for some time.
To conclude, he aggressively mentioned that the parish specifically needed $50,000 and enclosed is an envelope for donations because the air conditioner needs to be changed and it needs immediate attention.

...I really haven't enough words to explain my complete annoyance.

Perhaps I'm an entirely selfish person, but $50,000 can go a long way for anyone--I have stepped foot in this church myself: it is ornate, well-maintained, and--dare I say--it needs very little maintenance outside of the minimal?

I have been to the Vatican myself, and I know the Catholic church itself is perhaps the wealthiest religious organization in the world as far as its monetary value. I know that the pay priests receive is dictated by their bishop, and their bishop answers to Rome...

But, I find myself wondering, why the Dalai Lama never asks his followers for a single physical thing...he only asks for their understanding, appreciation, and acceptance of each other as human beings?

Why must the wealthiest religious organization on earth ask for hard-working, perhaps even struggling people's money in a time like this?

We live in a beautiful world, but there are children starving and being murdered in it. In light of this idea, why does a priest not ask his congregation to be a little uncomfortable in the event of no air-conditioning, and instead offer donated money not to his own cause--but to the cause of those children and people whose lives are forever uncomfortable?

But hey, I'm only an ignorant agnostic these days.
One who spends her free time tipping local businesses, paying her bills, and attending school on a very limited income--who also one day looks forward to taking a parentless child, and giving them a home.

But, I'm only an agnostic...
So, I guess it doesn't count?