Bread and Fish

I have a confession. Lately, I've been struggling with my faith.

I've been a (pretty) faithful Catholic throughout my life. My parents took us to church every Sunday and we practiced our faith during the week. I went to Catholic grade school and went to Religious Education during high school. I attended a Jesuit college and was married in a Catholic ceremony in October.

I first questioned my faith during high school. Religious Education seemed so vague and not applicable to my life. The classes talked about specific bible studies or else the teacher seemed to harp on how all teenagers were sinning. I didn't really care at that time whether I was confirmed or not, but it was important to my parents, so I did it.

The sacredness of making your confirmation in the midst of taking SATs, applying for college, playing sports, and all the other demands of high school.

My home parish was also changed during this time, as my mom had a falling out with the parish that I had grown up at. My family changed parishes to our grade school rival. I know it seems petty, but I had spent so much of my time from ages 9-14 in a rivalry with these kids and that church and for her to make us attend church there with the *enemy* was hard to stomach.

My feelings about church were of tolerance after that, as I'm sure that's common of most teenagers.

The first time I really enjoyed going to church and felt like I was receiving the message was in college. We had a really amazing pastor who gave homilies that were applicable to where we were in life. I was in college during the terrorist attacks of September 11 and for the first time in my life, I felt comfort in the church. I was active in my school parish community and really enjoyed it.

After college, I desperately sought out the connection with my church community that I had in school. And I just couldn't find it. My parents' pastor would give homilies that didn't seem applicable or couldn't relate it to where I was in my life. I just couldn't get into the church groove.

I eventually found a home parish and was excited at becoming a part of a community again. But the priest that was there who attracted me to that specific parish, left about 2 months later. The priest that remained seemed to just deflate everything that was happening in the world. And he was at war with his finance committee, so he was making small digs about the parish finances all the time. I just didn't really want to be a part of this, but by the time I was starting to get fed up with the situation, something happened that made me need faith and prayer.

My beloved grandmother was dying.

Nothing about my grandma's illness and passing was easy or peaceful and I really relied on my faith. I spent many hours in the hospital chapel trying to have some peace and praying for my grandmother's suffering to end and subsequent healing.

My grandma was not a religious person, but she did want to receive Anointing of the Sick. We prayed with and over her as she made her way to heaven and it was nice to have a religious person there for my family. We were also comforted in the fact that the priest who was serving as the hospital chaplain was also a pastor who my parents have known for years.

Since this was the time that we got engaged, Paul and I thought it would be special to have someone who was there for my family in a time of need, be there for us on our big day.

We first met with Fr. A who said he was happy to marry us at the chapel of my old college. I had such fond memories of it and was so excited to start my married life there.

In order to be married in the Catholic Church, you have to be a member in good standing. And since I wasn't getting married at my home parish, I had to be interviewed by the college pastor, my home pastor, and the pastor marrying us. They all told us that we needed to continue to go to church and attend pre-cana.

During our engagement, I was going to church on Sundays. Of course, it felt a bit forced at some points, because I had to ensure that my church envelope got in the basket every week to ensure that they counted me as attending. This was often tricky for me because on certain days, I would go to church with my family.

So when I needed my letter of good standing, the parish complained to me and begrudgingly wrote a letter. The pastor was really mean and difficult to me and I literally stopped going to that parish after he provided the letter. I started driving back home to go with my parents to avoid the man.

In the meantime, Paul and I really enjoyed pre-cana. We confirmed that we were on the same page with our faith and starting our lives together, and it was really a great day for us.

We were so relieved to be married and while we were frustrated by the hoops we had to jump through to get there, it made us all the more thankful to be together.

Upon arriving at our new apartment, we looked to find a parish together. We liked the one that was right around the corner from us and started going. Unfortunately, we also realized that the pastor at this parish was an Indian man and we could barely understand him. We would literally sit in church for an hour with absolutely no idea what he was saying. We tried 2 other churches after this and found the same.

It was upsetting to me that I couldn't find a church to belong. And even more upsetting that the parishioners weren't friendly either. (A common problem we are finding in this geographic area...another post altogether.)

To make matters worse, a lot of our friends who are getting married in the upcoming months, are having an easy peasy tie getting married. They are non-practicing and were given the okay to get married in a Catholic church. They also took pre-cana online for an hour for $150. I have to admit, it was just very upsetting to know that I did the right thing - I went to church, I did the pre-cana, and I practiced my faith. And yet, it still felt like pulling teeth to get the okay.

And then, a month before the wedding, in a check-up call with Fr. A to ensure that he was still good for the day, dropped the bomb that he had another wedding that he wanted to do out of town for a close family friend. And that if I could find someone else to marry us, he would be very grateful. (Amazingly, we found someone who I had never thought to ask and he performed the most perfect wedding ceremony for us.)

Needless to say, it's been a struggle for me to find my faith "groove" if you will.

Until yesterday.

Paul's parents were visiting and we decided to try out a new church. And I have to say, something happened to me that hasn't happened in a very long time.

The Gospel yesterday was that of the loaves of bread and fish. Jesus was speaking to a crowd and everyone was hungry. They didn't have enough food for everyone and so Jesus multiplied the food and everyone had enough to eat. One of His most well-known miracles.

I always thought this was a story of sharing. That Jesus showed the crowd how to share with their neighbors. That no matter what we have, we can share it.

The priest told us otherwise yesterday.

Based upon the time that Jesus was preaching, there wasn't a lot of food. People shared what they had because that was the custom. He insisted that this was not the case of sharing food, this was an actual miracle. This is the specialness and point of the story. The reason that this is so remarkable is because it was a miracle. There was a crowd of hungry men and women. And one man was able to feed the crown by multiplying the bread and fish.

I am not doing the homily any justice. But the way this priest spoke made me feel like a mini miracle happened inside of me. I wanted to be at this church and learn more. I wanted to find more applicable ways to practice my faith in daily life.

I think I just found my new parish.

And I'm hoping the crisis of faith is over. For now.

I think I'm going to start blogging my thoughts on various faith items. I know they are often sensitive and very personal issues. But I think I'm ready for it.