Church aerobics anyone?

Some time ago (more like last year) I told Hasarder I was not a religious person, even if I was born and raised as a catholic. I;m more spiritual than religious, that's for sure. I went to church on a weekly basis until I turned 18 or so. I had no choice about it – it was “house rules”. My father was an elite member of the “C & E Club” (meaning he would go to church at Christmas and Easter).
My mother on the other hand always went and still does. She would go to the Sunday service or if she couldn’t the Saturday one. And that’s without mentioning the weekly visits she does for funerals or simply because she wants to.

So, since I had to attend mass at least once a week, I decided to serve mass. Might as well keep busy while I was there. I spoke to the nun who ran the “altar activities” (who was also my 3rd grade teacher) and started out as an altar girl. I would basically simply attend mass sitting in my soutane. As time went by I became more involved. And began to serve mass, helping the priest preparing the host, his wine, etc. Used to love to ring those bells when he presented the host before communion. And then I was in charge of the incense! I loved that; I got to leave the service to go “being the scene”, prepare everything and lit it. I didn’t mind the smell either. I liked being up there and seeing everybody, some paying careful attention, others snoozing with the wife elbowing the husband at times, or others simply “not there”, lost in their thoughts or picking their noses. I saw it all!

I soon became so involved, that I would be called out of school on certain days to serve at funerals. At some point I had to train my mother to do all that. The giggles we had kneeling next to each other when one of us would goof up…

I remember, during a service, sitting there looking at the paintings around the altar, asking myself why was I there, since I wasn’t really sure I believed in what the priest was saying…so I stop going. I was old enough, i.e. over 18+ to be “allowed” to make that decision. That decision wasn’t welcomed with open arms at home.

For the longest time I chose to believe that my loved ones (like my grand father or a favourite aunt) were out there taking care of me, helping me. In my second year of college I had a philosophy teacher who declared at the beginning of the term “This year I will prove to you that God exists and that God doesn’t exists. You will have to decide on your own.” I was so confused that year. I would come home absolutely convinced that I believed in God and then a few weeks later I thought that it was all man-made. During that time I had some pretty heated conversations with my folks.

My mother has always been, and still is, the type of person who doesn’t question much. I, on the other hand, question everything! When I would ask questions about my parents’ faith it would disturb them, naturally. Not many people are really willing to openly talk about their faith. My mother would get upset. She had faith and believed. And that was that. That was totally unacceptable to me. And still is. But at the same time, as I get older, I understand a little more… (let’s say).

I remember one conversation where I asked her why did she believe. Her answer was always “because”. I would then proceed with the “because why? That’s not an answer”
Because was her answer. She believed because she had been told. She believed because her parents believed before her and told her to. She believed because there had to be something else out there; because she had faith, and wanted to believe in something bigger than us. She didn’t (and still doesn’t) like that I questioned her that way. I disturbed her beliefs system. I on the other hand, don’t have blind faith like that. There were times I wish I did. I kind of envy my mom, with her “knowing” that she was taken care of; that no matter what she was protected in a way.

All this to say the church thing wasn’t for me. And it still isn’t. I like to walk in a church and I love the calmness you feel as you enter it. But the preaching part… that is too man made for me. Maybe things will change and a time will come where I’ll want to go. Last time we attended a service was for Hubby’s mother funeral. At some point he leaned over and said, as we were asked to raise and/or sit; “Here we go with the church aerobics…”

How about you, are you a religious person?
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Image: Personal Photo Igreja Santo Cristo, Acores '99