Resurrection

Like many kids in the mid-western city where I was born, I was raised Catholic. I attended our neighborhood Catholic school from kindergarten all the way through high school, and then even went so far as to graduate from a Jesuit university. I consider myself fortunate -- and I would even dare say typical of folks my age -- in that most of my memories of my Catholic education were pretty positive. By the time I was in school, most of the nuns of the "old regime" -- the "whack 'em with a ruler if they're not paying attention" school of classroom management -- were either dead, or were getting too old to teach. Not that that didn't stop a few of the old broads from trying, but they were thankfully a dying breed. Most of the nuns I encountered were very kind. They could be stern at times, yes, but also funny and wise and suprisingly hip. They were good people.

I am no longer a practicing Catholic, although Catholicism is sort of like herpes -- once it's in your system, you'll always be a carrier. No, I am no longer a practicing anything. I find religion sociologically and anthropologically fascinating -- I'm just not interested in belonging to a church. I am not much of a "joiner", for one thing. For another, my relationship with God (I do believe in a higher power) feels very personal to me -- not something I want to proclaim to all. Although I have to say -- last fall I went to an Episcopalian service with Bug to hear his offspring sing in the kids' choir, and it happened to also be the Blessing of the Animals. The church was full of adults and kids with their dogs, cats, hamsters, snakes, turtles, bunnies and other creatures. It was the best service I ever attended. If I found a church where animals were welcomed to every service, I might actually consider joining -- there was something lovely and humbling about celebrating with the animals.

All this to say, like most fallen Catholics, there are certain times of year when I feel the "tug" of old rituals and deeply ingrained stories moving me to act. I'm sure all religions are full of great stories -- they would have to be to have lasted so long. Everyone loves a good story. The stories I'm most familiar with are those I grew up with -- those of The Bible and Jesus Christ. And to me, that's just what they are -- stories -- more metaphorical than real, which as far as I'm concerned, does not diminish their power. Those early Christians sure knew what they were doing when hooking up their stories to pagan celebrations. There are certain times of the year when we need to be reminded that all is not lost -- that the darkness will pass -- that new life can spring from even the deadest of places. Even from the grayest asphalt of mid-western cities. Even from the saddest of fallen Catholic souls.

Hallelujah.