A History of Religion: Part 3

Part 1 and Part 2 are here and here.

We'll need to back up just a hair:

Soon after my fiance and I got engaged, I sold my car and took him up on his offer to drive one of the vehicles from his collection. We also moved out of my townhouse into a house that his parents in Nashville had recently bought so that it would be lived-in until they were able to retire and move back to Texas. So, when he broke off the engagement and decided that not only did he not want to marry me, but that he didn't even want to date me anymore, I suddenly had no boyfriend, no home, and no car. Of course, he said I could continue living in the house as long as it took for me to find a new place and that I could drive the car for as long as I needed to, but still.

I was devastated. I'm talking about the kind of devastation that keeps a person from sleeping or eating or getting out of bed. Looking back now, I realize that there were several other issues playing into my depression, but the breakup was just the right shove I needed to fall smooth into the throes of darkness. Fortunately, I just happened to have an annual doctor's appointment that same week. My doctor urged me to try counseling, and she wrote my first prescription for my beloved Vitamin Z. A friend of mine recommended a counselor who turned out to be excellent, and a slew of girlfriends helped me move into a new townhouse in my old complex. Then, I drove into the Honda dealership, bought a car that I had been eyeing and called the ex to come pick up his porno-red 'vette. I was getting back to me and feeling pretty OK about it.

Around the same time, one of my best friends invited me to attend her daughter's First Communion. She and her family picked me up that Sunday morning at my new townhouse and we rode to the Cathedral together. When we arrived, they asked me to help them present the Gifts for the Eucharist, and I resisted, citing my total ignorance of all the Right Things To Do. It didn't matter, they insisted, and so I processed down the aisle with them at the beginning of the Mass. I felt honored to be there. During the service, I observed and followed the lead of my friend as we knelt and prayed and sang and listened to the Word. There was something about that place that made me feel at home. The kneeling, the choral responses, the reverence of that Mass, and the tranquil and thoughtful homily that the priest gave that day comforted me in a way that I hadn't known in many years.

I continued attending Mass with my friend, and a few times I even went on my own. Her daughter coached me on crossing my arms in front of my heart so that I could receive the priest's blessing during the Eucharist. After a few months, I arranged to meet with Sister Sue, the Church's director of education, to talk about joining RCIA classes. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to become a Confirmed Catholic, but I definitely wanted to know more.

As the months passed, I attended RCIA classes on Thursday evenings with a surprisingly large number of other adult catechists, and I learned more and more about the history of the Church and about its rich Tradition. While there were a few things that I felt somewhat conflicted about, for the most part, I was convinced that the Catholic Church was the One True Church. I was ready to sign up.

More than the classes and the lessons in religion, though, there was a feeling. I soon realized that despite the differences between the two religions, the feeling of worship and peace that I felt in the Catholic Church was very similar to the spirit that my growing-up church had nurtured in me.

The Catholic Church gave me a new sense of liberation. As strange as it may sound, the Church helped to free me from my past through the symbolic and literal demonstrations of washing sin away. During my first Sacrament of Reconciliation (a.k.a. "Confession") I went as far back as I possibly could and repented every wrong and evil and bad thing I had ever done. It was a long, nerve-wracking and marvelous experience. As I sobbed and confessed, the priest only nodded. Then he told me the most comforting words I'd ever heard: "God has already heard your prayers, and He has already forgiven you." My slate was clean. A priest had told me so.

During Holy Week, I was randomly selected to take part in the Holy Thursday celebration. I was seated with 12 others at the front of the church, and a pair of priests knelt before my chair, removed my shoe, and washed and dried my foot, just as Jesus washed the feet of the Disciples. Then two other catechists and I extended the ceremony to the entire parish as we washed the hands of the congregation. It was an humbling and beautiful experience.

I realized, too, that one day, I probably would want to remarry, so I began the process of having my first marriage annulled. That was one of the most difficult, yet cathartic tasks I've ever accomplished. I completed a 20-page questionnaire and solicited family members to complete testimonies on my behalf. It took almost exactly two years for that request to make its way through the correct channels, and eventually, my annulment was granted.

On April 22, 2000, during the Easter Vigil--the mother of all Catholic celebrations--I was confirmed and received my First Communion. My mother and stepdad and my brother and his girlfriend came to celebrate with me, and my friend whose daughter's First Communion I attended stood as my sponsor with her hand on my shoulder as I was anointed by the priest. It was one of the most special moments of my life.

I continued worshiping and actively serving in my Church after that. I had begun graduate school, and besides studying, my spare time was spent exercising, working on lessons and materials for my students, and going to Church. I dated some, but there was no serious relationship in the works. In fact, I resigned myself to the fact that I might live the rest of my life without a significant other.

For once, I enjoyed my own company, and I was content with my life.





Of course, no real-life story ever ends so simply and happily. Stay tuned for Part Four (and Five, maybe?).