Posted on Friday, June 19, 2015
in Family, Philosophy
I’m not a non-believer. I’ve seen too many coincidences in my time to deny any sort of higher power. There’s something funky going on out there outside our existence which I’m sure of. Even if we don’t exist at all.
I’m supposed to be a Roman Catholic. So are my kids. I can’t resist a sly snigger any time anyone asks me what my faith is. I’m all over the place, but for my children’s sake I remain stoic and do what I’m s’posed to. I’ve no choice really, it’s all about school availability.
So. What I really like about Roman Catholic society is that their masses get people together as a community. There are a very few other entities out there that can do that. They’re damn good at holding funerals. Even if you didn’t know the poor chap that died, but maybe you used to queue behind him at the post office for your pension fund or what have you, you still nodded and doffed your cap, so that’s you at the funeral paying your respects and scoffing free sangwidges, telling nice stories to the deceased’s family because that’s really all they want to hear and that’s a nice thing, it’s what I’d want in the eventuality of having something awful happen to me or someone I loved with all my heart.
Here comes the Catholic Guilt… when Puppychild was making her Communion I made a concerted effort to bring her to Sunday Mass every week. She remained in the back pews making bored noises while I became hooked on the choir. It’s a good choir. It has four parts. I was a middly sort of singer but I’m damn good at picking up tones and reading music so they liked me.
Then Puppychild finished her Communion thing and I got lazy. She had no interest, no motivation, and I can’t say I blame her. All that chanting. Stand up. Sit down. Baskets of money and people looking at you strangely because you forgot to load up on change that morning or your jumper has dog hair on it. So, I lost motivation too and I feel SO GUILTY.
Why do interesting things have to always take place in the morning? Especially a SUNDAY morning when you’ve been working hard all week and deserve a lie-in?
I don’t miss Mass. Well I do sort of. I miss the stories.
I miss the choir though most of all.
Can’t they have a lunchtime mass for layabouts and messers? We’re part of the congregation too, you know. We’d even bring coffee and hummous crackers and cactus plants. Probably a guitar too.
Numbers are dropping, they tell me. Not just Mass-goers, but priests and nuns too.
It’s Puppychild’s Confirmation next year, and it was supposed to be Laughingboy’s last May. I’m lumping them together, like a 2-for-1 offer. That’s how it feels. It’s more convenient for a family day out I suppose.
It’s depressing though, how MEH it all feels.
I wish there was more relaxation, more passion, more of a family feel to Sunday Mass. More of an open-ness to individual preferences instead of a fixed regime of closed doors and silent sadness. The Lord is with Thee every day, no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Or maybe He’s a She. Or maybe She’s an It. It might not exist at all.
My poor Grandmothers must be turning in their graves.