(no subject)
I'm comfortable with not pretending to be "in." What with my views on reproductive freedom, nonparticipation in charity this year (even volunteering), choice to obtain medical services from Planned Parenthood because I'd rather fund them than a regular ob-gyn, intent to use birth control as long as I see fit, and gleeful participation in premarital sex (and next year we will be LIVING IN SIN! IN SIN, I tell you!), I'm clear on the Church's stance. I'm not a "real" Catholic, although they'd love for me to be one day and are praying hard for it. Okay, it's cool. (Oh, yeah, and I support my gay friends in loving--including in the same way the Bible means knowing--whomever they choose.)
But still, it's home. It draws me back. So, just as I came home to Washington for the first time in a year, last night I went to Mass at the church I grew up attending. I had a few thoughts:
1. Man, there sure were a lot of dudes up at the alter.
2. I know the holiday is all about Jesus, and the strange circumstances surrounding His birth, and I agree with my roommate Patrick on this one. There never has been, and never will be, a virgin birth. Mary got pregnant the way a lot of other teenager girls through the ages got pregnant--she got knocked up, and not by Joseph. I think the real, miraculous act that opened the door for the salvation of humanity was Joseph's forgiveness of her infidelity, his acceptance of the child as his own, and his desire to protect Mary and their child. And then they came up with a masterful cover story.
3. Even though I'm not "supposed" to, seeing as how I'm immersed in sin and haven't confessed since my confirmation, I took communion. As always, it was nourishing and made me feel strong, loved, peaceful, and many other things. As ritual cannibalism should.
I love Jesus, and I love Christmas, and I love the Church. I'm confused and searching, though. Maybe Torie's right and it's time to pay the Episcopalians a visit.
But still, it's home. It draws me back. So, just as I came home to Washington for the first time in a year, last night I went to Mass at the church I grew up attending. I had a few thoughts:
1. Man, there sure were a lot of dudes up at the alter.
2. I know the holiday is all about Jesus, and the strange circumstances surrounding His birth, and I agree with my roommate Patrick on this one. There never has been, and never will be, a virgin birth. Mary got pregnant the way a lot of other teenager girls through the ages got pregnant--she got knocked up, and not by Joseph. I think the real, miraculous act that opened the door for the salvation of humanity was Joseph's forgiveness of her infidelity, his acceptance of the child as his own, and his desire to protect Mary and their child. And then they came up with a masterful cover story.
3. Even though I'm not "supposed" to, seeing as how I'm immersed in sin and haven't confessed since my confirmation, I took communion. As always, it was nourishing and made me feel strong, loved, peaceful, and many other things. As ritual cannibalism should.
I love Jesus, and I love Christmas, and I love the Church. I'm confused and searching, though. Maybe Torie's right and it's time to pay the Episcopalians a visit.