Another thing about the Episcopal church is that their music is often better. The few times I attended a Catholic church I was shocked. I was hoping for more ritual, some “latin” flavor — ahem — but it was so low church. Some contemporary thing on a piano. The Episcopal church is much more likely to play a Bach prelude on a great church organ than the Catholics — at least in my experience. It’s definitely worth a try — you’ll get more of the ritual and less of the claustrophobic conservative authoritarian guilt stuff.

I understand Tim’s point. But if you want to reform the Catholic church why put your daughter through all that — unless you want to “debrief” her after each service. You could wait till she’s older if that’s your real desire.

I’m not much a fan of suffering for an organization. Vote with your feet, you know. A church is there to serve the spiritual needs of its members. Something perverse is going on if people are harming their own spiritual interests for the sake of an institution.

I have no church to promote. I have no ideology that constrains what I say to you.

Your path is before you. Walk with confidence. Do not look back with regret.

Have joy in your family.

Rather than work towards change (which has been done before and will be done again), it’s far easier to throw up one’s hands and say, “I don’t like a part of this, so I’m leaving.” Those who think that in fifty years the priesthood will be composed of only males are kidding themselves.

Such things are really small trifling details in the grand system of beliefs. If you don’t believe in an all-loving, infinitely compassionate God who sent Jesus to teach us, serve us, and die for us, those are legitmate reasons not to be Catholic. If you do not believe in the Real Presence in the Eucharist, that’s another legitmate reason. Because you disagree with the Church’s stance on stem cells, that’s almost always an excuse used to leave when the real reason invloves a deeper rift that requires much more pain to understand. There are sociopolitical views in which I disagree with the Church, but I take comfort in the fact that the Chuch is made of humans and therefore is possible to be wrong. Heck, they’ve even acklowledged many mistakes over the years.

I won’t say never, but I can hardly ever remember hearing a homily about doing something to gain salvation. That’s never how Catholicism was presented to me. Instead, I was alwyas taught by my parents, teachers, and priests to do the right things because of love for God and love for others. Salvation isn’t some scavanger hunt prize that you win by completing a checklist, and the post-middle ages Church doesn’t teach that it is. Instead, we’re taught to do right because it is inheriently good. All else will follow.

Many changes have already come. Most of us are too young to really know what it was like pre-Vatican II. You may remember Latin Masses and lots of incense, but you probably don’t remember the lack of laity involvement with parish operations, or marriage preperation run only by priests, or the inflexible boundaries that marked a parish’s district.

Today, there’s lay involvement from the tinest rural parish all the way to Rome. A priest may want to do something, but it’s the parish council (formed of laity) that controls the finances. “[Laity] activity in ecclesial communities is so necessary that, for the most part, the apostolate of the pastors cannot be fully effective without it.”–Catechism 900.

This isn’t directed at any particular comment, just a general ambling along a thought path. Ask yourself about the issues that you have with the Catholic Church. Are they over small political issues, or fundamental tenents? Are they covering for deeper, more painful issues? And perhaps most importantly (and I’m referring to myself here, too), in issues where I disagree with the Catholic Church, am I sure that I am right?

CIcero, you will find the answer you seek as long as you try. It may not come soon, it may not come when you expect it, and it may not come in the form of Catholicism. God knows we’re going to fail, that we’re going to have doubts, that we’re going to make mistakes. He just wants us to try again.

Things came to a head recently when my father-in-law pestered my wife about getting our 2-year old baptized in a Catholic church. My wife kept resisting. Then finally she asked, “Dad, do you want him baptized because it’s a family tradition of celebrating a baby. Or is it because you’re worried he’ll go to Hell.” He actually admitted that the reason he wanted our son baptized was because he feared he would go to Hell. For that, we’ve decided to get him baptized in HIS church, and do NONE of the pre-baptismal preparation (except as required to do the service). Since neither my wife nor I believe in “Hell”, the whole thing seems a pointless and meaningless ritual. It’s been quite a depressing thing, the only benefit of it seeing that he was honest. But it reinforced why I don’t want my children inundated with the propaganda of one faith.

I want my children to consider their spiritual nature. When we go to church, we say, “That’s where we learn to be nice to other people.” The rituals are foreign to both my wife and I. But every once in a while something resembling the Catholic mass comes out in a service. Or a beautiful prayer in the minor key in Hebrew reminds me of the songs of synagogue (my favorite part of Jewish service was the music in minor key). Those moments feel nice for both of us. But the deeper purpose of the church for us is for our children to understand the intrinsic value of each human being. Why doing right is right, not because God might reward you, or Mom and Dad will smile, or you might get rich, but just because it comports with your basic understanding of how we should live and who we are.

You’ve made me think back to my childhood and realize that for a child, even before she or he is capable of giving much thought to ultimate questions, religion is a sensory experience. Holidays and services are magnificent works of collective, four-dimensional art, multisensory environments for a child to be blissfully immersed in. There are smells, sounds, tastes, and also a sense of solemnity and mystery, and of anticipation and orchestrated crescendo. And holidays are aligned with the seasons. All of this strongly appeals to a child in a sensory and emotional way. It speaks directly the the soul, which is less concerned with the concept of “God” than with the experience of mystery, power, awe, and beauty. Life is poorer without that. There the Unitarians may be missing the point. (But it sounds as if Mary Sheehan’s UU church isn’t missing it.)

To a child, also, Bible stories are mainly just great stories.

I went to a Reform synagogue, but we had an exceptionally great, warm rabbi, Jacob J. Weinstein, who radiated the humor and warmth and compassion of the tradition (and also marched with MLKing). We had Sunday school, with very vivid telling of Torah stories and celebration of festivals. Most of all, we had an amazing cantor, who was (unbeknownst to us kids) a famous composer of Jewish liturgical music, Max Janowski. We had a professional-quality organist and choir. Max’s melodies came roaring out of the choir and organ loft and bathed us all in a passion that we didn’t understand but felt directly. I can still hear and sing his melodies to Hebrew prayers.

Unfortunately, I felt pretty much the same way as a child about churches I visited, and Christmas, and even Hallowe’en, as I did about the Jewish holidays that were my own heritage. When it came to holidays and mysteries, I was like — the more the merrier!

I really appreciate what you’ve written. I am staunchly athiest (something which has developed over time from being vaguely agnostic), and sometimes find it frustrating and confusing that anybody could possibly believe much of what the bible (in my limited knowledge) teaches.

Your viewpoint is beautifully written, and if I personally would want to being my child/ren up without religion, I can definitely see where you’re coming from. It is great to read something I can relate to on the topic of faith, and I can definitely appreciate that having faith to turn to would be a great comfort.

I admire you for putting what you see as best for your child before what you believe/what you think you believe.

My wife grew up Catholic, alhtough all she remembers about the services is putting in the dollar her mother gave her and sitting in thte back of hte church reading her Archie comics while the service was going on. She says she is non-practicing now, whatever that means.

The topic of finding a good church came up, as did with you, as our 3 year old son started to become truly aware of his surroundings. It is the age of discovery for them and what better time to expose kids to religion when they are gullable and naive. I mean that in a good way.

My wife and I have come to the conclusion that we will expose our son to both sides of our faith and just leave it up to him when he is older to decide which, if any, route he feels drawn toward.

I guess I’ll have to go to a Catholic church one day with my wife but I am reluctant to do so, partly out of some guilty pseudo-betrayal to my own faith, but mostly because the Catholic faith confuses me- too many “things” to keep track of just to worship the Almighty. Perhaps they are just stereotypes on my part just as my wife has her own about Baptist churches having huge choirs, helfire and brimstone messages, and plenty of food to eat after the service.

I could no more return to a church that does not allow the full participation of women in all the sacraments, then I could take wings and fly. I have found a UU church that is deeply devotional with its own comforting rituals including a communion service on Christmas Eve at midnight. I hope you find a spiritual home. Its good to have a harbor in these unsettled times.

Why not teach her to do the right thing because that is how you live your life, and it makes you feel like a good person.

What a wonderful essay. Grandly honest, picture perfect, thoughtful and richly overflowing with faith.

Thank you.

Eusto, I think that is the healthiest way to keep one’s focus on God. The traditions we inherit are necessary to our identities as individuals, but at botom they are human and they bear watching. We Christians are supposed to have a very healthy scepticism towards our human nature and its tendency to wickedness.

“religion is not a smorgasbord. �

I think it is always a smorgasbord, just like any other aspect of culture. Linguists talk about idiolects and are always taking pains to get as broad a sample of infromants when they are trying to describe a new language, because they recognize that individuals have their idiosyncracies. The same holds true for the rest of culture.

God is mysterious, and our expereince and experiences of him are mysteries, and we wrap them in concepts in order to make some sense of them. That is what Paul means about having thee treasures in earthen vessels. The Liturgy is porcelain, which is to say, earthen.

Speaking of Unitarians, one of my wife’s friends in seminary was a Universalist Unitarian. She would always add “I’m a Universalist Unitarian” to her name when introducing herself. That always struck me as odd, almost as if she were playing a religious game of one-upmanship. Well, that and the logical disconnect of a Unitarian attending a Christian (or any other) seminary. Why invest all that effort and money in studying the intricacies of a faith that is fundamentally incompatible with your own?

So, Cicero, how was the service? Did the blending of “High Church” and rock-n-roll elements work for you? I find myself to be pretty much a universalist when it comes to services, and this one sounded interesting.

I feel that it is perfectly good and just to allow each individual to sift the contents of a particular religion, harvesting the wheat from the chaff. I place more faith in the divine within each person to discern truth rather than a huge and ancient bureaucracy. If it feels appropriate you may as well want to help your daughter separate the wheat from the chaff in the tradition as she grows older.

Substitutionary atonement and original sin — eh — but who can argue with love and justice and beauty?

If this strategy feels right to you, pay no attention to the mindguards and authoritarians who harangue you with tired rhetoric concering “cafeteria catholics” and “religion is not a smorgasbord. ” Trust your own intuition and simply reply that no religion has a monopoly on truth. You may even want to teach her about other religions as she grows older — weaving in other religious strands as seems appropriate.