The one annoying thing about being a Catholic and a Christian in general? No one gets it. No one understands why I’m so crazy about liturgy, the Saints, and ultimately, Jesus Christ. It doesn’t matter who the conversation is with. Fellow Catholics, Protestants, atheists, and agnostics all do the same thing when I talk about my faith: they roll their eyes.
Perhaps coming from a previous Evangelical mindset, I still have this need to evangelize people in actions and conversation. That is, I want to tell people as often as I can about how awesome the Catholic Church is because it was started, is sustained, and is protected by the Son of God, King of the Cosmos. I stumble, say the wrong things, am guilty of proselytizing and forcing my arguments on people who aren’t interested in the least. One can quote all the Church Fathers, Scripture, and Thomistic proofs for God they want–it won’t do a damn thing for a person if someone hasn’t met Jesus yet. For having forced my beliefs or condemning people of a different creed differing from mine? I can only express regret and remorse for being so unlike Jesus.
However, while I apologize for being insensitive and rude, I will not apologize for my faith. The motto of the world is, “I’m spiritual, and not religious” and “Faith is a private thing that shouldn’t be talked about in public”. I disagree. It engages everything that we are as it addresses the questions of existence that keep us awake at night. Who are we? Why are we here? Where are we going? Is this all that there is? Being a theology nerd is nifty because the study of God is the Queen of the Sciences. Faith is something that uses reason at its height and is its logical extension into the Divine, which has spoken galaxies into existence.
But all this wonder and awe of God fizzles when one looks at the Church, which is made up of sinners and saints who are human beings. Name the scandal. Name the hypocrisy. Name the injustice done in the name of God. I’ve heard it all. I feel the unveiled anger, hate, and malice heaped on the shoulders of Jesus because we’ve failed to represent Him. We’ve failed to do our job. We’ve failed to love unconditionally. We dropped our crosses to serve Mammon rather than God.
And then the Church suffers as a consequence. No one wants any part of it.
It makes one feel like a fool. But I keep calm through all those jokes about priests being nothing but perverts that get off with little boys. I still smile at you when you muse that Vatican is a corrupt society that hordes money and should sell all its art to serve the poor.I listen when people earnestly tell me how Dan Brown’s DaVinci Code is journalism that provides keen historical insights or ask if the new X-Men villain is talked about in the Bible. I am insulted when I hear that I’m a backwards thinking person who isn’t educated because I believe marriage is between one man and one woman. And that disagreeing about same-sex intercourse being healthy is fostering an intense hatred of gay people? Come on. In fact, why is the Church so caught up with sex? Why do you all care about condoms, pills, and birth control? Why are those pervy priests celibate? Isn’t because they’re not married that they become sex-starved pedophilic maniacs? Why not let them get married? In fact why aren’t women ordained? Why do you enslave and oppress women? Why? Why? Why?
All of those questions have answers of which I’m willing to discuss in a respectful, honest, and friendly way. It’s my own fault that I get riled when a Calvinist insists that I sacrifice Jesus again on the altar or worship saints. It’s my own fault if I feel hurt when I get the “Are you f***ing serious?” looks from people when I make a sarcastic quip against pro-choice people. It’s my own fault if I get flustered with Bob Dylan-ish guitar hymns at Mass when I’d prefer a choir chanting in Latin.
Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
Being a Christian is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I wish I weren’t so zealous. The zeal for His House has consumed me. I wish I could keep hidden. I wish I could keep my opinions to myself. But Jesus is the only thing, the only Person who could save me from myself. If it weren’t for Him, I’d probably be in jail or dead. Such was I before He found me. But where sin has abounded, Grace does much more abound.
Granted, I have gotten weary and complained to other Christians. People say that I was on some sort of conversion high. That the inertia has worn down. That soon the frescos would crumble, I would see the evil stubbornness, see what a crock everything was and there I would be–swindled. But I just don’t think so.
From my understanding, the Christian is constantly called to conversion every waking moment. If I don’t preach Jesus Christ and how He delivers us from sin, I am the crock, for I am a member of the Church. If I do not repent and say I haven’t any sins, I am a liar, and His Grace isn’t in me. People who aren’t Catholic study me by my actions to determine if Jesus of Nazareth is someone they would like to know. For Christian means “Little Christ” and that is what I am. They may never read a Gospel beforehand save for the example of my life. Yes, to employ the cliché, I may be the only Jesus anyone is going to see.
Like Our Lady and St. John the Baptist, I point to Him, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. All of theology is describing what God is not, and pointing to what He is. Truly, all I can do is invite you in the words of the Christmas carol: “Come, let us adore Him.” My prayer is that you will, and I do everything with the talents that God has blessed me with to divert your gaze to Him who alone will still your restless heart.
I am no honeymooner, I am married. Jesus Christ is my Spouse. I am a part of the organism known as the Church, the Body of Christ and His Beloved Bride. I have some strong feelings for Him, yes. I do not always express them perfectly. But the wonder is that He is in love with all creation. And whether we feel Him or not, He loved us first. Like any marriage there are highs and lows, mountains and valleys. Yet if I do not pursue Him madly who first pursued my salvation and sealed it in His blood, I am heartless.
Come, let us adore Him: the beating Heart of the Universe.
The Rowdy Hobbit 