When I was about eight years old I had a dream that I’ll never forget. I was standing in the kitchen, on the phone with my mother, arguing about something mundane. After hanging up the phone, I sat at the kitchen table, frustrated and sad. My pity party was quickly interrupted by a rapping on the screen door. I went to the door and there was Jesus, with his scraggly brown beard and well-worn Birkenstocks, looking as dejected as I was. “Hey, Mary. I’m so frustrated. I come back from the dead and went to every house in your neighborhood and no one believes that it’s really me.” “Wow, that’s so annoying,” I said, “Ya wanna come in?” So Jesus and I sat down and he immediately asked, “What’s wrong? You seem upset.” I filled him in on my third grade worries and he was refreshingly empathetic. “Glad you came over, Jesus! Do you want some ice cream?” “Sure!” he replied. I got a gallon of Bryer’s Neapolitan out of the freezer, removed the lid, and saw that there was only one tiny scoopful left. I turned to Jesus and said, “Oh darn, there’s barely any left.” Jesus said, “Yes there is.” I looked down and there, before my very eyes, was a full gallon of ice cream. “How did that happen?” I joyfully yelled. Jesus smirked at me and said, “I’m Jesus.”
When my brother Jim and I want to laugh hysterically, we play the cassette tape that we recorded when I was six and he was thirteen. Jim was interviewing me and asked in his squeaky pre-teen way, what I liked. I immediately and assertively answered with my New Jersey accent, “I like Christmas! And birthdays too! And I loooooooooove JEZIZ!”
Now, at age 33, I don’t have any Holy ice cream dreams and if I was asked what I like, gingerbread lattes and Irish accents would most likely beat out Jesus. This begs the question, when asked what she likes, can a gal prioritize Glide dental floss over the Son of God and still call herself Catholic?
This gal does. My relationship with Catholicism is like many of the relationships in my life; at times it’s dysfunctional but for the most part, we’re there for each other. Catholicism continually challenges me and I challenge it right back. Sometimes it’ll ask me if a decision I’m making is ethical, and sometimes I’ll ask Catholicism a real doozy like, “Why can’t women be priests?” Some issues are ongoing, and at other times we just agree to disagree. Catholicism has been a springboard for many of the major decisions in my life, and has really been there for me when I needed it. Like a good friend who gets on my nerves now and then, I choose to forgive Catholicism when it annoys me and focus on the good it has brought to my life.
A combination of my interest in going to a Catholic university and my brother and I getting lost on our way to check out Villanova, led me to attend college at St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia. I knew nothing about Jesuits when I first got to college, but it wasn’t long before the catchphrase, “men and women for others” was burned into my brain. In an effort to make friends and meet sensitive guys, I joined a myriad of community service activities and quickly developed an intense passion for volunteer work. If I wasn’t handing out sandwiches to homeless on Broad Street, I was framing Habitat for Humanity houses or reading to kids at a shelter. I enjoyed doing practical things that served a greater purpose. I benefited from seeing the concepts discussed in my philosophy and theology classes brought to life. I made friends whom I still cherish to this day. And, the sensitive guys were hot.
Exposing myself to the reality of social injustice led me to examine my faith. It was faith that led me to do volunteer work, and it was faith that I questioned when that work opened my eyes to prejudice, homelessness, and poverty. Throughout my four years at St. Joe’s, I continued to explore questions of faith by doing community service in Philadelphia, spending spring breaks volunteering in Appalachia, and taking a summer service trip an Indian Reservation in South Dakota. During the typical angst-ridden, “What am I going to do with my life?” phase in my senior year, I attended a four- day silent retreat. A main focus of my thoughts during that retreat were contemplating what one actually does with a sociology major and gender studies minor. My Jesuit education encouraged me to turn faith into action by questioning, participating and working to create positive social change. In summary, I knew I dug the whole Jesuit thing. I decided that the first stop on my career path would be to volunteer for a year with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps.
I was assigned to work as a case manager at a shelter for battered women in Missoula, Montana. I, along with the four other volunteers agreed to focus our lives on the four values of the program: community, social justice, simplicity and spirituality. My training at the shelter was baptism by fire, and although I felt completely under-qualified and overwhelmed, I enjoyed my job and quickly began to see myself continuing a career as a social worker.
Throughout the year, my roommates and I united in our shared faith, and our shared questioning of it. We took opportunities to explore other religions, including meditations at the Buddhist temple, Unitarian drum circles, and services at the Alternative Catholic Church where the line, “Lord I am not worthy to receive you, but say the word and I shall be healed” was changed to “Lord I am happy to receive you. May your presence give life to my spirit.” The roomies and I took turns planning our monthly spirituality nights, which ranged from silent hikes to Reiki, to stream of consciousness writing sessions about finding God in nature. It was through this exploration that I became more interested in other religions, and felt more connected to my own.
I’m not always sure how to pray or what good it actually does, but it was during my time as a Jesuit Volunteer that I participated in the most moving prayer of my life. My roommate Anne and I were traveling back from Omak, Washington where we spent the Thanksgiving holiday. Our car broke down, and after a long day of walking around a small town shopping for used cars with a gas station attendant we befriended, we bought an old Toyota Corolla for $150. Before leaving to head back to Missoula, Anne and I sat in that car with its three windows and dead animal stench and without much discussion, decided we should say a prayer.
We joined hands and prayed for a safe ride home. We said a prayer of thanks for Bill, who sold us the car. We prayed for our families, and roommates and new friends we met that weekend. And we prayed that there wouldn’t be snow on the passes, and that we’d come quickly upon a Taco Bell. To this day, Anne and I agree that on that journey back home, which was snowy and long, but ultimately safe, there was a presence watching over us. Maybe we were delirious and tired, but I choose to associate the feeling of that presence with my faith. It’s a presence that comforts me and encourages me to do the right thing. I don’t always listen to it, but I know it has my best intentions at heart.
In the decade that followed my time as a Jesuit Volunteer, I developed my career as a social worker. I worked with a variety of populations in a variety of settings, occasionally feeling burnt out and confused. But even now, I like the challenge. I like feeling that the daily grind is serving a larger purpose. I like meeting people who challenge me and make me laugh and make me cry and share their lives with me.
Through the years, I’ve gone through phases where I’ve become angry with Catholicism. But really, I get angry because my Catholicism is a friend who has been there for me and given me some of those most meaningful experiences of my life and I continually see people using it to wage wars and promote hate. Like anything, the Catholic Church is replete with inadequacies and failures, but I believe that at its core, its message is inclusive and welcoming and it has the potential to bring about a more peaceful world. And it’s always willing to take me back after a fight. I walk into a Catholic church after having not gone for eons, and the mere smell of incense makes me feel safe -- and understood. It’s at those times that I think, "Come on world; stop messing with my friend. She’s sometimes kind of wacky, but she’s really cool. You just have to get to know her better."
I’ve never been much for doctrine. It bores me. There have been times when I’ve felt guilty for picking and choosing what I want from Catholicism. I’ll take corny church songs over papal encyclicals any day. I absolutely never go to confession, but I use the Hail Mary as a mantra whenever I’m in a stressful situation. I do that trite, selfish thing where I question God’s existence, and then pray as soon as I’m feeling upset. But I am the sum of a lifetime of experiences. Catholicism has inspired me to volunteer, and surround myself with good people, and do that crazy Jesuit thing of trying to be a woman for others. Catholicism has a large part in getting me to the person I am today, and I’m pretty happy with that person.
I may not read the Bible, but I do my best to live my life with purpose and use the gifts I was given to create a better world. And if Jesus ever comes knocking at my door, I will be happy to welcome him in and enjoy a nice chat with him over ice cream.
