Friday, February 23, 2007

How disparity of cult made me more Catholic

I've now been married for exactly 3 years, 1 week and 4 days. Yes, we were married on Valentine's Day.

So many of my friends and family were delighted to know that they didn't have to make plans for Valentine's Day, because my wedding would be their celebration. Guys especially thought it was great - their wives would get to dress up, eat a great dinner, enjoy some romantic dancing with their husbands, and generally be surrounded by the idea of love. What could be more perfect?

I loved everything about my wedding. I planned every detail myself, and I had a blast. But I love my marriage even more. There is something so sacred to me about being joined as one with another human being. As I mentioned in my last post, my husband keeps reminding me that we are together "no matter what." Which is a pretty big deal for him to be on board with - he wasn't even Catholic when we married. He had no faith or religion at all. But he went through RCIA 2 years ago and - as my first anniversary gift - he became Catholic.

As a cradle Catholic, it is amusing to see things from his perspective from time to time. But most amazing for me, is that this man supports the sacrament of marriage 100%. He comes from divorced parents, and an upbringing that would seem to defy Catholicism in its entirety. But he gets it. And he believes it. And that makes all the difference.

I never told him he had to become Catholic - in fact I made it a point not to try and force him to. I kept my faith, and the Holy Spirit did the rest.

People would advise me to "force him" to become Catholic before the wedding, which I always found laughable. You can't force someone to believe something. If you don't believe in baptism, and you become baptised, is it really a sacrament? I'm not a theologian, but I would argue that if you don't believe in what you're doing, the criteria for a sacrament are lacking. Which seems dangerous to me, because it might preclude someone from honestly obtaining the sacrament at a later time, when they ARE ready.

I didn't want my husband to pretend to be Catholic for me. I didn't want him to pretend to believe in something he didn't believe in so my family and friends would approve. I wanted him to really believe. I wanted him to WANT to become Catholic. I wanted him to see the value faith could have in his life and want that for himself.

I led by example. He came to church with me. Perhaps unwillingly at first, but he knew that my butt was in that pew every Sunday. So if he wanted to see me on Sundays, his day would start with Mass.

At first he agreed to go twice a month. I never asked him to do that. And I never asked him to do more. I simply said, "ok." Then he started coming every week. Pretty soon we had a regular pew at our church and Jim started helping with the collection. It's fun to watch the Holy Spirit work.

One of the church ladies talked to Jim about RCIA. He asked me if I "set him up." I said, no. I never asked you to become Catholic. But if you want to, I want to support you.

Now let me say that I don't claim to be a perfect Catholic. I am far from it. I spent my college years skipping Mass more than I went. And for years I had no problem skipping if I 'needed' to. But after my mom died a few years ago, I found solace and strength in my faith more than ever. Her example of faith was so strong - so devout. After her death, and with my father having died a few years earlier, it was - at times - the only thing I had to hold on to.

Some of my friends have become so angry with God that they left the church after a death or a tragedy. One of my brothers laughed at me when I suggested he should go to Mass when he told me he didn't go anymore. Several friends have told me that my mother's funeral and my wedding were the last times they were even in a church.

The thought of leaving the faith after my mother's death was unthinkable to me. But it was hard to know what to do or where to go. When you are young and your parents have both died, you are like a boat without anchors, without sails, and without oars. You simply toss about at the whim of the sea. No way to stop, no way to steer. All you can do is hang on and hope. And pray.

To have left the church would have been an insult to my parents and everything they tried to teach me. So no matter how I felt, I went to Mass. But I felt so alone. I felt so alone in my faith, and so alone in the world.

Because I met my husband right after my mother died, he never got to meet her.
He doesn't know it, but when he started going to Mass with me, it made it even easier for me. Sharing my faith with someone else made it more important to me. Explaining why we do things made me understand it more myself. And suddenly I didn't feel so alone anymore.

When he joined RCIA, I went with him to every class, and I learned a lot, too. Hard to admit for a cradle Catholic with 12 years of Catholic schooling behind her. I thought I knew everything there was to know about our faith. But I was wrong.

In the end, I know that from his perspective, I brought him to the church. He would tell you that my faith inspired him to become Catholic. He would tell you that I am the reason we go to Mass, and are involved in our parish. In reality, he brought me to the church. More fully. More purposefully.

I know that marriage is a sacrament and that it's a gift from God. God brought this man into my life - a man who seemed to have no faith. At one of the worst times in my life, when I was so much in need of someone to hold my hand and guide me through. God didn't send me a Catholic, he made me one. Because all that time I thought the Holy Spirit was moving him ... it was working on me.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Thanks for sharing this very beautiful story.