None of my biological relations were Catholic, but when I was born on the wrong side of the sheets, the father whose name was on my birth certificate cast my lot with the Catholic Church. I amplified that decision 13 years later when I entered a Catholic seminary. In this instance, I was casting my lot with the church as a refuge from my family rather than a path to walk forward.
A month before I turned 21, I left the seminary and the church, for my mind was set on earthly things rather than citizenship in heaven. And though I had the path set before me, I needed to walk away because I had only been on this path to hide rather than to find my way. It was not my path to walk and so I had to walk away.
A good 12 years of temptation and distraction lay ahead of me before I would accept the ashes and enter the desert. A terrifying place. A place we probably all have to go to, a place that is distinct, I suspect, for each of us, though I make no judgments about other people’s deserts.
My desert did not lead me back to the church, or any place where men are in charge, or Jesus was white, or the holy become prosperous.
I recently returned from a visit with family in which people believe all of those things. As disturbing as that was to me, I want to see each of them as “round” and not “flat” characters. Our paths are all full of contradictions. Each of them was filled with goodness and engaged in beautiful acts of care and love as they said some of what I think of as awful things. Each of them cared for each other in the extremely difficult trials of health, walking in their own deserts, and looking for love.
There is no one way to salvation. Perhaps, you just have to accept the ashes and enter the scary desert.
— DanielSouthGate
A month before I turned 21, I left the seminary and the church, for my mind was set on earthly things rather than citizenship in heaven. And though I had the path set before me, I needed to walk away because I had only been on this path to hide rather than to find my way. It was not my path to walk and so I had to walk away.
A good 12 years of temptation and distraction lay ahead of me before I would accept the ashes and enter the desert. A terrifying place. A place we probably all have to go to, a place that is distinct, I suspect, for each of us, though I make no judgments about other people’s deserts.
My desert did not lead me back to the church, or any place where men are in charge, or Jesus was white, or the holy become prosperous.
I recently returned from a visit with family in which people believe all of those things. As disturbing as that was to me, I want to see each of them as “round” and not “flat” characters. Our paths are all full of contradictions. Each of them was filled with goodness and engaged in beautiful acts of care and love as they said some of what I think of as awful things. Each of them cared for each other in the extremely difficult trials of health, walking in their own deserts, and looking for love.
There is no one way to salvation. Perhaps, you just have to accept the ashes and enter the scary desert.
— DanielSouthGate
I like your style! I was raised Catholic as well, but the only time I wanted to enter a convent was in my mid-thirties when relationship failures were really starting to bug me, and I wanted to just give up. So, yeah, it would have been an escape.
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