An Examination of Conscience

When I was in high school, I was so religious that one of my classmates referred to me as the "God Squad Chick." This frightened me to my very core. Every time I went to a religious retreat, every time I sat in adoration, I felt called to an extremely religious lifestyle. I wanted to get married, I wanted kids! I couldn't be a nun AND do that. I was too close to the holy fire, I was about to get burned, so I ran as fast as I could away from the church to... the "God Squad Dude," as Joey liked to refer to the guy I dated my junior/senior year of high school and for part of my freshman year of college. God Squad Dude is now an Orthodox Rabbi, and although we are quite obviously no longer together, we do talk on occasion through instant messenger to compare notes on our kids (he has a daughter a few months older than Asher).

I was really captivated by the rich history of the Jewish people. I had always been fascinated by the strength of spirit and the resiliency that has been demonstrated by the Jewish people time and time again in their history.

Deep down, under the surface, and unbeknownst to even myself, my study of this history was motivated by a desire to know and understand the religion that Jesus practiced to better understand the New Testament. In the 10 years I studied Judaism in depth, I learned more about Catholicism and the origins of certain parts of the Roman Catholic mass than I ever did in catechism classes. I wasn't searching to get to know Jesus. I wanted out of the Roman Catholic church. I was bothered by politics within the parish I had grown up attending. I wanted to be Jewish.  I wanted to distance myself from everything Roman Catholic, and yet, I kept being drawn back.

The past six years, I've been wavering... back and forth.  I wanted to go back to the Roman Catholic church, but I was afraid of admitting that... not just to everyone who hated that I left the church (I didn't want to hear "I told you so!") but also, to myself.  I didn't want anyone to think that that my study of Judaism was 'about a boy.'  It wasn't.  It was more than that. It was me getting to know how my Savior, Jesus Christ, lived his life 2000 years ago, and yes, Jesus was male, so maybe it was 'about a boy' but not the one everyone thought. 

I dreaded what I would have to do to return to the church: Confession.

Confession was what I needed most.  I needed an unburdening that was personal and between me and my God, and I needed forgiveness and absolution for my abandonment of the church.  I never really understood confession before.  I never had a real good experience and I never had a confessor make me feel so comfortable as when I made my full confession to return to the church.  I truly felt as if I had come home, the prodigal daughter of the church.

I joined the folk choir, and when I sing, I feel transported back to those feelings from high school.  Intense joy fills me as I listen intently to the scripture readings at mass.  I truly love the sermon's of the pastor at my new church home, Our Lady of the Hills in Columbia, SC, because he relates the scripture to the life I am living today.

I cried tears of joy this past weekend, as my son was baptized into the Roman Catholic church.  I feel sad that I did not have the same emotional response at my daughter's baptism 2 years ago, but I had not been completely ready at that point to fully accept the church as my spiritual home.  I am ready now, and I will raise my children sharing all the knowledge I gleaned in my time apart from the church in hopes this will teach them to be strong witnesses of the faith.