Confessions

In lieu of standing at an altar, or a podium, on Sunday mornings to express my take on the gospel to help others feel closer to God, I come before you on the page. The three main reasons for this are because I am a married female who wants children. If you haven’t guessed yet, I am Catholic.

How odd that word has become. “Catholic” has practically turned into a bad word - almost dirty. Many Catholics don’t even like to admit it. Even as I say it now, they don’t believe I am talking about them. But, I am here to tell you that it’s okay to be Catholic. It is even more okay to be afraid of your church and yourself for not liking some of the things about it. If you have spent any time in confession or therapy (what I call modern-day confession), you are beginning to find some sort of comfort in forgiveness.

Growing up Catholic, I learned many things about God and the Bible. I was taught about Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John and how they wrote the scriptures. I was taught about the major holidays of Christmas and Easter and all of the stories that go with it – never once questioning how the Easter Bunny fit into it all.

I did this all throughout grade school. In high school I took Humanities courses that introduced me to my love of the world and all of its wonder and mystery. In college I took more philosophy classes and was inspired by Metaphysics. I majored in Humanities in grad school and was lucky enough to concentrate on religious history. This is where I felt most at home. My whole life I have been moved by religion – not just my own, but that of all mankind.

I still soak up what people believe, enthralled by what they have to say and why. I love the personal aspects of religion - not Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism… but the specific, fundamental place where individuals are touched, shocked, and awed - moved and inspired by unexplained forces. So many people follow religion blindly, so many people are afraid of it and avoid it blindly, and so many people just don’t care.

After delving into religious history, I saw my childhood Sunday School images shredding to bits. I learned about dear Constantine and Nicaea and the persecution of Christians. I learned about the assembly of the gospels and the other writings that didn’t make it into scripture. I learned that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John didn’t write the gospels after all. They were plucked from the pool of Christian writings from antiquity as a strategy to organize and consolidate religion…and let’s face it, control it.

After I picked up my jaw from this education, I quickly did an about-face, saying to myself, “so what?” This is a phrase I still use in my mind today about many things related to this twisted history: “So no one told me this growing up, so what?” So, the apostles didn’t write the gospels, so what?” None of this makes Christianity less real; in fact, I believe uncovering the truth makes it more tangible, makes it more real, makes it more human. I fell in love with Christianity all over again. I fell in love with Jesus all over again.

I wanted to share my knowledge with the world, but quickly discovered how little people like to openly talk about their religion. They often avoid it more than politics. I am not sure why this is; maybe they had too many people try and convert them or force opinions on them. Maybe religion was a foreign idea that they don’t know how to talk about. Yet, I begged for conversation, yearned for the exchange of one person’s humanity to another. I always felt like it was a delicate thing to sit and share - gut to gut, person to person. Maybe that is why people don’t like to share – it is just too delicate.

Because of all of this, I write into the oblivion of online social media where it doesn’t entirely matter if anyone listens, but I still get to talk. And, honestly, I feel people today are seeking for this same kind of discussion. The Church may be stopping me from giving sermons and helping people in need the way that I want to. It may be stopping you from feeling comfortable about religious discussions; it may be stopping all of us from conversing in the absolute most fundamental way. But, why let it?

Beginning on the celebration of Pentecost, I will begin my journey of writing at least a year’s worth of sermons – a common woman to the common public. I come to you on the page as an un-ordained, un-incardinated individual without Holy Order or authorization to perform rituals, administer religious rites, or conduct mass. I come to you as a counterpart - as it has been done for thousands of years, as it was done in Jesus’ time, as he did for us.


Beth Wilson