I was brought up sporadically Catholic. By that, I mean that I was baptised in the church when I was a baby. (although a little late, I was a whopping 9 months old by the time that my mother had me in the church to be baptised.)
I did not know that I was Catholic until after my mother and my sisters' father divorced. At that point, I was 9 years old. I was told that I was going to be enrolled in Private School because "We were Catholic". I did not know what that meant, except that I got to wear a cool pleated skirt and white shirt. To me that was very cool. Plus knee socks and Mary Jane's. In my opinion, it was the coolest stuff to wear to school.
Catholic School was very different than any school that I had ever been to in my life. Catholic School was like a cool club to which you were selected to be a part of. The only uncool part was me. I did not know that there were rules and regulations. Going to church with all of the other Catholic kids was a fumbling embarrassment. All of the other kids knew about genuflecting and making the sign of the cross, and the holy water and everything. I watched the other kids and copied what they did. A few times, a nun would tell me to do something or not do something, and then tell me that I should know better. It was a comedy of errors, and I was the butt of everyones' joke. (Albeit unwillingly)
My sister and I were there in Catholic School. It was there that my sister was in the back seat when my uncle decided to lose his temper and drive the car into something. My sister was injured. I knew it before anyone told me. My sister and I were very close at the time, we really were the only thing that each other had. It was sad and tragic. I can recall being in my class, laying my head down on the desk and praying for my sister to make it through the accident. When my teacher and one of the nun's told me that my sister was in an accident, I told them that I already knew. How I knew is something that I cannot explain, except to say that my sister and I were very connected to one another. When that morning happened, I kept hearing this rush of voices in my head over and over telling me that my sister was in a car accident and to pray for her. I was not scared, nor did I think that I was crazy. I still look back on that time with calm and clarity.
Of course, after any family crisis, a lot of families turn to their faith. Ours was no different. Except-my family was one of those that was so strange. My grandmother had to call everyone that she knew, even people that she barely knew, to make sure that they could all pray for my sister. I do not remember US praying though. Not together.
My sister even made First Communion. I was SOOOO Jealous! I did not know what it meant, only that she got to have a new dress, and get some presents.
So, here was my little introduction to being Catholic. Then, we moved. from the only community that we really ever were a part of. We moved to a different part of town. Again, we were enrolled into another Catholic school at the behest of my grandmother. No one stopped to think about how very confusing that was for me, or my sister. We only were in that school for a short time. All I wanted to do was to go somewhere that I fit in. For being so Catholic, the only times that my sister and I went to church other than Midnight Mass was when we chose to go alone. How sad is that? 2 kids, being the moral example. Wild.
I had sporadic experiences with other Christian religions. My sisters' dad comes from a Charismatic family. Occasionally, when we visited, they would take us to church. They were very very evangelical. For children that really have no religious upbringing, evangelical can be very scary. We went twice that I recall. They knew that we would be there a long time, and so they would bring blankets and pillows for us to lay on. When we got tired, they would spread blankets on the floor and lay us down on the blankets. It was very sweet.
My concept at this point in time was that there were 2 people, G-d and Jesus. One was white haired and bearded, one was brown haired and bearded. They worked together to keep everything running smoothly. They were like a spiritual Santa Claus. They knew when you were bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!
By the time that we moved from New Orleans, Louisiana to Fort Knox, Kentucky, I knew how to say "The Lord's Prayer" and the "Hail Mary". I did not know how to say a rosary. Just knew those two prayers. I got to say the Our Father in chruch one time. I did such a miserable job because no one explained to me that this was a prayer that needed to be said with a certain rythym. I managed to offend all of the nuns and priests and teachers in my school, as well as a good many fellow students, all in the space of about 45 seconds. When I asked my teacher after the prayer "How did I do?" Her look told me everything that I needed to know. I did not do well at all. Not at all. The comments from my fellow students after Mass made me feel like I had committed some horrid little sin.
After that, we moved to Kentucky, and we did not go to church, except for the all important Midnight Mass. (Christmas Eve service) Was there anything cool about Midnight Mass? Well, we got to light and hold candles. That was pretty cool. We got to be up pretty late. That was really cool. We got to come home, have a bite to eat and then go to bed. It was all pretty cool. Plus, it took the edge off of Christmas Morning. I did not know until much later that Easter and Jesus were the same thing. I thought that Easter was the day that the Easter Bunny dropped by with my chocolate loot handily located in a basket. Perhaps even a stuffed animal or something. The day that Jesus rose from the dead? Who knew? :) All kidding aside, I really did not know that until later.
Have you ever noticed that, from a kids perspective, all of the major Christian holidays tie in to candy or food if you are a kid? Start with the beginning of the year.... St. Valentines Day...heart shaped candies. All because some Christian guy was helping out some girls with their dowrys. From that, we get some really good marketers turn it into what we now know it as. As a kid, you pass out some paper and cardboard Valentines. Then you get candy. Yum Yum. Mostly Chocolate and those chalky hearts with simpering sentiments.
Next holiday for kids that is Christian based is Easter. Ok, as a kid, telling the truth here, I really did NOT know that this was a Christian holiday. Nor did probably 75-80 percent of the kids that I played with and/or knew. We all knew that it was about the Easter Bunny, chocolate, finding some eggs, and maybe having a nice lunch. That was it. But the candy was wonderful!
Next one..Halloween. Yes, I know that it got its start Pagan, but Christmas got its start pagan with the whole tree thing. Anyway, let me continue. Kids dress in costumes for......CANDY! This was a huge deal as a kid. I did not know anyone until I was a pre-teen who did not trick or treat. Then I knew one kid who was a Jehovah's Witness. No trick or treating. No Birthdays. I do not know if there were any other things that they could not do, but I did know those two things. So, we dressed for Halloween and did the trick or treating thing, not knowing that there has always been a huge stir amongst Christians about whether it was right or wrong.
Final Holiday for the Christians....Christmas. Ok, I knew that this was Jesus' birthday. I also knew, on a much more personal level that this is when Santa came and dropped the loot, and the CANDY. To me, Christmas was over within 15 minutes, or, however long it took to tear the wrappings off our gifts. Plus, if we had been to Midnight Mass, we were already past the tension and surprise. *Note..number of times I have attended Midnight Mass is less than five.
So, that is pretty much my Christian upbringing. I knew that Jesus and G-d were related, that Jesus was the son of G-d, but that was about it. I would repeat what my mother told me, which was "We are Catholic", or, the other comment that I would hear her tell other people "Oh, we believe in Jesus and all of that". Seriously. That was her big answer. Thanks for all of that Christian instruction. I could not have an intelligent conversation about Christianity. There was not a single Bible in the house.
We moved to Michigan. One of my pals was Mormon. I went to church with her a couple of times and my mother flipped out. She could not give me a good explanation of why she did not want me to go, except that "They were a cult". When I asked my mother what a cult was, she could not answer that for me, except to remind me of Jim Jones and Grape Koolaid.
I was now afraid that my friend Kirsten was going to drag me to her church, that we would enter into some weird verbal deal, and that she and I would be forced to drink grape koolaid, fall face down and die. (I remembered Jim Jones, and all of that, but the details were very vague to me. I was 8 or 9 when it happened.) It is now strange for me to think about all of this. Here my mother had the perfect opportunity to get me and my sister into church. She did not do that. She actively discouraged me from going to church. Very odd.
My stepfather was a Wiccan. For a while, he tried to get us all to be Wiccan. At first, my mother was all for that. Then she did not follow through with it, and since she and my stepather were not that motivated, we only were Wiccan for less than a month.
Moving here and there, we would occasionally meet someone who would invite us to their church. Sometimes we would go, and sometimes we would not. I never felt at home in any of these churches. Much like a new suit that was not meant for me, I could not sit still and I was uneasy.
I was faced with a pregnancy that was the result of incest. (What a great stepfather that I had. SO respectful of people's boundaries). I was 15 at the time that I was pregnant.
At first, I wanted to keep the baby and raise it myself. Thankfully, my mother prevailed and made it so that I was very desirous of placing the baby up for adoption. When I was pregnant, I did pray here and there. Not with any regularity, but I did try to pray a lot more than I ever had before. After the baby was born, I probably was thankful in prayer that the baby was very healthy.
After the baby was born, I tried to read the Bible. My aunt who I was now living with was Catholic. She went to Church every Sunday. This was a foreign concept to me, but I went. I tried reading the Bible that mysteriously made it into my room, but the words and concepts were foreign to me at times. Living a Christian life seemed to be something that was very hard to do, and that was before you added all of the Roman Catholic rules. The whole thing left my head spinning- almost. Occasionally, I would glean something here and there. When I would share something with my Aunt or Uncle, I would be cautioned against becoming "Too Catholic". This was confusing to me, because from reading the Christian Bible, you could not love Christ too much, or emulate him too much. When I talked about this to my Aunt and Uncle, they would recaution me not to become a Bible Thumper. Hmm. That was something that intrigued me.
I began to watch the 700 Club on the sly. Tammy Faye was, to me an older Madonna *the singer not the Virgin- who needed someone to downsize her cosmetic approach a bit. I loved watching the show because they did not have the whole Catholic concept of BIG GUILT. That was weird, but refreshing to me. Here, you could take care of anything, with a monetary donation in the name of the problem. They and their prayer team would pray over it for you. How convenient. This was like Fast Food Christianity. I loved it. For a rebellious 16 year old, this was the way to go. You prayed a little, played a little, and sent in a check. Sometimes, they would even send you a little present if you sent a nice enough check that month.
I left home a few times. During those times, sometimes I had a Bible and Christian influence with me, sometimes not. I never was really grounded in Christianity, so it was no surprise that when I entered Adulthood that I was not as spiritually prepared as many other people that I know.
Marriage. I married someone who was Roman Catholic. (Shocked are you?) But he was a fallen away Catholic. This meant that we did weddings and funerals. But then, he expected me to be well behaved and know what to do in church. Uh-huh. This did not work out well. I saw right through all of this. I saw it as being sarcastic and playing lip service to G-d. When we went to church, I would ask what to do, and he would shush me. That was frustrating. I tried to become a really good Catholic. I got a book about becoming Catholic. I learned how to say the Rosary, and other bits and pieces of Catholic history and learning. Now, hubby was a truck driver. I went all over the country with him. I carried the Bible and read it all of the time. I said the Rosary all of the time. It was hard to be learning about all of this and not have firm support of my husband. He told me that he was worried that I would become too Catholic. Yeah, there was some rhetoric that I had heard before. To me, whenever someone was worried about me becoming too Catholic, it was because they felt guilty that they were not Catholic enough. I was ok with that. Whenever someon would ask him what I was reading, he would make something up. It was really bizarre to me.
Divorce.When I left my husband, I came to Dallas where my sister, one aunt, and my mother lived. I was not interested in religion at that time. I was interested in me. Selfish, but very true. I dated some people here and there. I dated some people that my family knew I was dating. A lot of people that they did not know that I was dating. It was complicated, and I loved it.
I ended up dating a Deputy Sheriff. Neither of us were single, although we both had divorces filed. He was raised Baptist. We went to church twice the whole time that we were together. We went once when his kids had something going on at their church. Once when my sister was married. If we went other than that, I have blocked it out.
We broke up, and I moved in with my sister and her husband until I could get back on my feet. They went to church, and they urged me to go to church. It was easier to go than not, so I went. Church was nice, it was a pleasant diversion. My mother at that time was dying of breast cancer. She, too was a member of the church. It was Lutheran. Lutheran is like Catholic light. All of the casseroles, none of the guilt or confessions. No bloody Christ at the front of the church. Nice music, good worship, nice people. no hard questions, no hard answers. I liked this church so well that when I became engaged, it was the minister from this church who married us, albeit in the clubhouse of our apartments because we were all pressed for time and space.
I married my best friend, and I truly love him more than anyone else on the planet. I am pretty blessed to be in a really solid marriage. We have watched several of our friends' marriages end in divorce. We have survived. It is a testamony.
At first, my husband and I went to church together. After my mother died, we became really sporadic about going to church. There was always a better reason not to go than there was a reason to go. Finally, we admitted that we were not members anymore. I breathed a sigh of relief. So did my husband. We moved to our home, and I decided that I was going to start going to church. Of course, I looked at a bunch of different churches. I finally decided to try a Catholic church near me. It was ok, but the priest could best be described as Manic-Depressive. He was happy one day and angry and sullen the next.He refused to process my papers even though he said that he was processing them. I would later find out that he had lied to many like me, putting our spiritual lives on hold. He had me questioning my sanity.A few phone calls to other churches in the area, and I was thrilled to find a church that would help me get all of the papers in order that would allow me to be fully Catholic. For the next year, I fully embraced my Catholic faith. I learned new things each and every day. Every day was a blessing. I awoke early in the morning to go to church happily. I even took my niece to church with me and she loved sitting there with me. It was a happy time that even allowed myself and my sister to be employed by the church. I loved it so very much. Then, the priests were moved about. I found myself without a job. Worse, the priest who I befriended was not keeping his promise about getting me a job at the new church. Again, I felt betrayed by the Catholic church and the people who represented it. I attended church, but I felt torn. Certain family members during this time were again urging me not to become "too Catholic". I ignored them and plodded along, knowing that everything would somehow work out, and that my faith would be restored in time.
Only, it never was. The small candle of Catholic faith that I had tried to light over and over again was not able to sustain all of the life events that were happening. It flickered, faltered, and burnt out. I did not feel as though I had anyone that I could turn to and talk to about this. I decided that I would try churches of other faiths. I tried a few around here. They were nice, but they were not a good fit for me. They were not what I needed. I was at that time, rationalizing to myself that I would eventually come back to being Catholic, but I needed a time out for right now. The time out was permanent.
Then I branched out. I tried churches that were farther away from me, eventually trying a number of them that are very well known here in Dallas. It was very eye-opening for me. The main focus of a lot of these churches was money. Yes, they did wonderful things, but doing wonderful things costs money, and they wanted to have the money to continue doing all of these wonderful things. It disgusted me. Want to learn how to have a better life? Come to our classes.....if you can afford them. Want to get a diploma? Come to our school. Bring your checkbook. The bookstore was filled with books that were written by the elders of the church. At the same prices that you would get the books anywhere else. Only books written by their people were featured. It was so surreal. I could not imagine that this was the Christianity of our forefathers. It was actually turning my stomach and making me ashamed that I was a part of this church machine.
I left.
I was determined to find a place for me. A place where I belonged. A place where I would not have to become a person that I was not, and a place where I would not have to pretend that I was something that I was or was not. I stopped going for a few weeks. It was nice. The world did not end.
My sister and I had been talking about Messianic Judaism. I was intrigued. Perhaps this was something on my path. Perhaps this was the answer to the question of where did I belong. Or was I putting too much stock in something? I went to my sisters' house and we had a Sabbath dinner. Very nice. I had bisquits. Little tiny ones. We talked, she prayed and lit the candles, it was very nice. As I came drove home, I was anxious to look up Messianic Judaism.
There was a lot to read about Messianic Judaism. A lot. Then I found a page that was written by a Jewish man. He was angry that there was a Messianic Jewish movement. As a Jew, he felt that the whole movement was based on deception. I was angry when I first read the page. Then, I read all of his pages. All of them. And I started agreeing with what this man said.
No one was more startled than I was. If I agreed with what this man said, then I was not a Christian. I was not a Messianic Jew. I was someone who was wanting to become Jewish. I could feel my breath as it left me. Was I renouncing Christ? Was I now non-Christian? The answer was yes. And I could not believe it. My breath came to me fast, like panting. I calmed down, and wanted to talk to someone about it. Anyone. As the night turned to day, I called all of my Jewish friends and we talked and talked. One of them, Mark S. is someone that I will always be grateful to. His advice was wonderful, solid, and meaningful. Thanks, Dr. Mark!!!!!!!!!! My husband was weird about it. He was supportive of it until he talked to some people at work who told him that I could not become Jewish. I explained the difference between the Jewish race and the Jewish religion. He still makes the occasional smart ass comment now and then. I ignore it. It is only because he is afraid and uncertain that he says things. It will pass. The weekend was spent talking to everyone that I knew, Jewish and non-Jewish, feeling them out. Then, I talked to my sister and told her that I could not be Messianic Jewish. She was ok with it and told me that she did not think that she could be Messianic Jewish either. I could feel my sister smiling through the phone to me.The hardest call that I made was to my aunt and uncle that have raised me since I was pregnant with my son. I called my aunt and hemmed and hawed. Finally I blurted it out. She was very accepting. I sent an email to the rest of my family. Their response has been no response, which is typical in a passive aggressive type family model. I just go on blithely.
The people that have had the hardest time dealing with it have been the Baptists. Sorry to be so stereotypical, but it is true. One of my friends was making really smart assed comments. I said nothing. He told me that he was just kidding and that I should know that. I stayed silent until he apoligized. All of the people that I know who are Baptist feel the need to remind me that I will be burning in Hell. Ok...um If I believed in that.
So, Now that I have bored you to tears, what were those awesome things that I read that caused me to throw Christianity out the window?
Check them out for yourself here:
Jews for Judaism FAQ - The Jewish Messiah - Criteria
messiahpage.com <<< The Page that Converted me!
There are tons of other pages, but these are really the ones that answered all of the questions that I had.
I am now in the process of meeting with a Rabbi to get my conversion process started, and I have joined several online groups as well.
Unlike any Christian faiths that I have ever belonged to, I have felt at home from day one.
I hope that this has answered any and all questions that you all may have. If not, please email me. Dixie@BathCandy.com
Best Wishes.
Dixie