I'm spiritual but not religious. So says the snippet next to my name on the dating sites. I dislike that this terminology somehow indicates my appropriateness for meeting strangers, but I don't mind playing along and abiding by the rules, so long as it doesn't offend my personal philosophy for occupying space and breathing air. Truthfully, I was raised Jack-Catholic, but there's no checkbox for that.
Jack-Catholic means that, while I was baptized with holy water, a Sunday spent nodding off in a pew was rarer than a Pat Robertson reality check. A Jack-Catholic is a bit of a rebel. Explains some things, right? Amen.
When I was four, my nine-month-old sister lingered on the verge of death by pneumonia. The attending clergy in the hospital refused to issue last rites since she hadn't yet been baptized. That pissed my dad off. Thankfully, my sister survived (Amen!)--no thanks to anybody with a presumed direct line to the Big Guy Upstairs. Afterward, Dad turned his back on the church, and thus began my life as a pagan. Let me amend that: a proud pagan. I know, blasphemy in a blog . . . Whatever.
Now don't go trying to convert me. I have a firm belief in the oneness of science and creation, and an open mind to the universe's possibilities. Plus, I'm 80/20 on the benefits of sin, and a smartass. Ask anybody.
I think so many of us thumbing our noses at the church comes down to one thing. The religious rites. So okay, confession time. When people drink the blood of Christ (I know it's metaphoric, no letters, please), I get creeped out. Why not just offer the congregation some wine, in our own cups—no sharing spit? Just say, "Belly up to the altar, folks." Then, we can talk about this Eucharist business rationally, including that snacky-poo thing on JC's body. Um, can you say cannibalism? Why not just add a cheese plate? We could pretend it's from the goat of JC and nobody gets hurt in the making of this sacrament. And what's with the constant sit-down/stand-up pewmanship through an entire hour-long mass? It makes for a lot of grunting and sighing, and who doesn't prefer to do that at work?
As a Jack-Catholic, I'm obliged to fall back on tradition from time to time. I like to call it the Just-in-Case Doctrine. One might say I convert to Convenience-Catholicism on an as-needed basis. Like when I look up, roll my eyes benevolently, and pray, "Good God!" or "God help me!" and the occasional but always reverential "My God, I'm going to kill him!" Is that so wrong? A good poke at the pope and a saint du jour can buy a little time if I ever need it—or get me off the hook. Can I get a witness?
Fire nipples
2 days ago
