ElizabethEsther.com

You found God in Catholicism?!

Prayer conducted primarily in public becomes a matter of making announcements to God or to the group or to your own self-image...When we emphasize public, verbal and social prayer forms, along with group rituals, while not giving people any inner experience of their own inner aliveness...it tends to keep religion on the level of a social contract; this is often what we call cultural Christianity or civil religion...Social and public prayers hold groups and religions together, but they do not necessarily transform people at any deep level. In fact, group certitude and solidarity often becomes a substitute for any real journey of our own. 
--Richard Rohr, "The Naked Now"

One of the main criticisms of Catholicism is that it produces a "form of godliness" without the inner reality. The idea here is that instead of developing a personal relationship with God, Catholics emphasize performing formulaic rituals.

Religion without relationship, then, is akin to marriage without love. 

I think this is a valid criticism of Catholicism insofar as it refers to a Catholicism that emphasizes rote imitation and not inner transformation. But it's important to remember that this "form of godliness" can happen in any church or denomination. My guess is that the lack of inner reality is probably the fault of poor discipleship and bad Christian example than Catholicism itself.

As humans we seem to have this inherent need to systematize everything. We want it all codified and organized. But what is so scandalous about the grace of God is that it's not limited to our ability to organize it.

The grace of God breaks out and goes rogue just when we think we've tamped it down.

Catholics are not the only ones who have seemingly codified the approach to God. 

If, as fundamentalists often told me, I would only come to know God through reading my Bible--I would probably be an atheist by now. Reading the Bible was simply not an option since it had often been used as a weapon against me. 

As blasphemous as it sounds, God was going to have to be bigger than the Bible, bigger than a Sunday sermon, bigger than a Church.

I needed to know one thing: did God love me unconditionally? 

The problem with a question like that is that it's completely irrational. First of all, it presumes there is a God and secondly it presumes that He's capable of loving and thirdly, it asks if that love is unconditional. 

Apparently, I like to ask the questions that have no answer.

At least, no systematic, theological, rational answer. 

I probably wouldn't even ask this question if I wasn't first brought to a place of complete and utter lowness. This is where I found myself after the twins were born. I was desperate. And in that desperation was a kind of grace because I was open to the possibility of finding God in an unexpected place: Catholicism.

This is not to say that God was/is limited to the Catholic Church. But it is to say that it's not really up to me to tell God where to reveal Himself and for reasons that are entirely beyond my ability to understand them, I first began to experience the unconditional love of God in that ancient form of liturgical worship.

There are, of course, many Catholics who grew up in the Church and say they were never "saved" or ever had a personal encounter with God. I understand this frustration and to be honest, there are things about the Catholic Church--or, perhaps more precisely, their way of doing things--that truly perplex me as well.

I think what gives me hope is that the Church is an organic, tangible body that is still developing, growing, changing, adapting. Yes, it moves too slowly for many. 

But it is moving.

In the end, all I really needed was an experience of my "own inner aliveness" as found in the unconditional love of God. I found that in Catholicism. 

And yet, I still hold a deeply embedded fondness and debt of gratitude to my Protestant upbringing. If anything, I see myself as a spiritual pilgrim--caught between two worlds.

It's a fairly lonely pilgrimage--nobody on either side of my family is Catholic. There are times when the loneliness of it is just totally overwhelming, especially when I hear the muttered jokes, the mocking comments, the misinformed prejudice.

I don't know how to answer that. I really don't. So, I keep quiet.

There's no way to have that conversation because there's no way of explaining it in coldly rational, intellectual, systemized terms. Sometimes I wish God could have revealed Himself to me in, say, Presbyterianism--I really didn't want to end up Catholic.

But that wasn't my choice to make.

All I know is that once I was lost, but now I'm found.

And most of all, there is no fear in love for perfect love casts out fear.

Love is my only hope, my only certainty.

How Mary brought me back to Jesus, part 2

A few weeks after I brought my babies home from the NICU (you can read about my first moment of appreciation for Mary in part 1), I was battling through PPD, managing 3 older children and breastfeeding preemie twins. I was absolutely humbled. I've never felt more desperate. 

This was a necessary lowness, I think. Before this, I had often relied on my powers of critical thinking to wrangle through theological debates. I approached the whole subject of Mary with the typical "prove 'em wrong," "show me the Bible verse!," "gotcha!" mindset of my fundamentalist childhood. 

But as I sat in my rocking chair, nursing my twins, it suddenly seemed totally ridiculous that I was approaching Mary as if she were a debate topic.

She was, after all, the the mother of our Lord! She was a PERSON, not a bullet point in a proposition/rebuttal debate.

At the very least, as the mother of my Savior, she deserved my respect. For the first time in my life I felt a shiver of shame regarding the way I had treated Mary. My approach to Mary--Jesus' mother!--had been so irreverent.

Did it grieve the heart of Jesus to see so many Christians like myself treat His own mother disrespectfully?

I had never once considered that maybe Jesus thinks His own mother is special. Yes, God could have chosen anyone to bear Christ. But He didn't. God chose Mary. She wasn't just the mother of Jesus. 

She.Was.The.Mother.of.Jesus.

I mean, really. Is there a higher honor?

Maybe, just maybe, Mary was important. Maybe she was really important.

How could I have ignored her for so long? Perhaps because I had simply accepted the male-dominated Christian narrative I had learned as a child.

I mean, this is how skewed it was: even when teaching the story of of Jesus' birth, we sang "extra-Biblical" songs about ox and cow before Him bow, but we never once pondered the Magnificat.

We certainly didn't sing about Mary.

It was almost as if we intentionally avoided her.

We didn't accord her any honor--not even in how we referred to her. She was just Mary. Or sometimes, if we needed to distinguish her from Mary Magdalene, she was "Mary, the mother of Jesus."

Contrast this with how we talked about Paul. I mean, we fell all over ourselves referring to Paul as a great apostle, John as the Revelator, John as The Disciple Jesus Loved.

But Mary was always just Mary. Nothing special, nothing worth noting really.

For the first time in my life I realized what a stunning oversight this was. It was almost as if in our haste to avoid being like those Catholics who "worshipped Mary," we'd demoted her from central character in the Nativity to one of the sidekick, background characters.

 
This was right around the time when I first watched EWTN, a Catholic TV channel. I watched--with great curiosity--some nuns praying the Rosary. I had never seen this before. Each morning as I breastfed my twins, I watched these nuns pray the Rosary and I was struck by two things: 

1. The Rosary was all about Jesus: each decade was devoted to a particular event in the life of Christ
2. Jesus was right in the center of each Hail Mary.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee,
Blessed art thou among women
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, JESUS.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for me, a sinner,
Now and at the hour of my death. Amen. 

I was completely blindsided by these discoveries. I mean, all my life I had believed "Catholics worship Mary." It was quite clear that these nuns weren't worshipping Mary. Rather, they were joining with Mary in worshipping Jesus!

What other human being knew Jesus more intimately than His own mother? Praying the Rosary was like sitting down with the one person who knew Jesus best and letting her take you through the events of her Son's life.

Still, I was pretty leery of praying the Rosary myself. But sometimes I murmured along with the nuns because, in spite of myself, the prayers soothed my anxiety and helped me focus. It was a form of prayer totally foreign and unfamiliar to the extemporaneous, "popcorn praying" style I had learned from childhood.

As I began to find great comfort in listening to these prayers, I simultaneously realized that this was NOT the empty, repetitive praying I had been warned against. This was prayer with purpose and deep intention. This was structured prayer that simply allowed me to fall into something more profound than myself.

I can't tell you the relief I felt. What I'd often referred to as "empty ritual" was becoming nothing less than a lifeline pulling me to safety.

Devotion to Mary did not detract from devotion to God. Indeed, it seemed to compliment it. How often had I appreciated other heroes of the faith whom God chose to use? God chose Mary to physically participate in the story of redemption. And isn't God big enough to bring along a grand entourage of co-participants? 

In other words, who am I to belittle or demean or simply neglect those whom God has clearly chosen to use?

I had never considered the life of Jesus through the eyes of His mother. I had never walked that road or seen His life from her viewpoint. But as I began to pray the Rosary--albeit falteringly and disjointedly--I began to catch an altogether different view of Jesus.

Jesus was full of love. Jesus loved his Mother. Jesus loved women. 

The strongest impression I had of Mary and Jesus was how much they loved each other. She never abandoned Him--even when most everyone else had. 

I began to understand some of her titles like "Mother of Sorrows." Could it be that Mary understood and sympathized with my sorrows? For so long I had been confused and unable to talk to God.

But now...could it be that I could run to Mary and pour out my heart to her? When I was afraid of talking to God directly, would Mary perhaps hear my cries for help and intercede to God on my behalf?

Could this be what Catholics meant when they said: "If you can't find Jesus, look for His Mother"?

I was finding Mary and she was gently leading me back to Jesus--her Son who never forgot her.

Even as He hung dying upon the cross, He looked down and seeing His mother, committed her into the care of the disciple John.

Jesus loved His mother. 

If Jesus loved her, that was enough for me. I was no longer going to ignore her.

I was going to love her, too.

**Sincere questions are always welcome but comments that disparage Catholics and/or Mary will not be published. There is so much misinformation and misunderstanding among Protestants regarding Mary that I have chosen not to perpetuate this on my blog. Thank you for understanding.**

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How Mary brought me back to Jesus, part 1

If there was one thing about Catholicism that totally freaked me out, it was Mary. I just didn't get it. Why did the Catholics make such a big deal out of her? After all, she was just a human being who needed salvation like everyone else. So far as I could tell, there wasn't anything special about her.

God could have chosen anyone to be the mother of Jesus. Catholics, I believed, had falsely elevated a human woman--a glorification that would have probably horrified Mary herself. Indeed, it was a glorification that flew too closely to goddess worship and plain ol' idolatry.

When I saw those Catholic bumper stickers that said: "If you can't find Jesus, look for His Mother," I was astounded and offended. How could Catholics be so blatant about their blasphemy? By giving Mary such a place of preeminence, weren't they diminishing the centrality of the cross and work of Christ? 

I never really stopped to think about the ways we, as fundamentalists, elevated other heroes of our faith. For some reason it never seemed to bother me how much we loved and exalted the apostle Paul or John the Revelator. We were forever quoting Romans and pondering the Apocalypse, but I can honestly say that I never ONCE heard a sermon that reflected on Mary.

Mary, you see, was just not that important.

God was male. Jesus was male. Paul was male. Luther was male. All the important heroes of the Christian faith were male. I cannot emphasize enough how the fundamentalist faith of my childhood was predominantly and emphatically masculine.

Women were God's afterthought--created for the sole purpose of serving men.

Looking back, I can begin to understand why we didn't give Mary much thought. In fundamentalism, women are second-class citizens. No wonder we treated Mary the same way.

The problem with being raised with an emphatically masculine faith was that it gave me a very distorted image of God. I'd often heard that we were created in God's image. But if God were male, what part of God's image did I reflect as a woman?

Additionally, the God of my childhood was a roaring, Almighty, vengeful God. I was terrified of Him. I often imagined him as a stern-faced judge just waiting to strike me down should I make a mistake.

When my childhood church imploded because of massive moral failure on the part of the male leadership, the engine of my belief just started shutting down involuntarily. 

I didn't know how to talk to God anymore. My twisted image of God prevented me from being able to come back to Him.

To my dismay, I discovered that all paths back to God were blocked.

I couldn't see God except through the lens of fundamentalism. If my relationship with God was going to be restored, I needed to see Him from a different point of view.

The first time I ever began to appreciate Mary happened during a moment of sheer desperation.

I had just given birth to premature twins and was standing in the NICU watching the nurses try to find a vein in one of my twins' arms. They couldn't find a vein and my fragile, underweight baby was screaming in agony as they prodded and pricked. 

They wouldn't let me hold her or touch her. I could do nothing to ease my child's pain. I had no choice but to watch her suffer.

"We're going to need to find a vein in her head," one of the nurses said. At that moment, I thought I would pass out. I could not BEAR to watch my child in physical anguish. I felt so helpless and alone. I thought I would vomit.

I leaned against the incubator to steady myself and at that moment, I was struck with a thought: this is a small taste of what Mary felt like while watching her Son suffer.

I'd never once felt a kinship with Mary. But in that moment it was like a firmly closed door opened just the tiniest bit. A crack of light appeared in my consciousness.

Mary understands. Mary watched her child suffer and there was nothing she could do about it. Mary understands.

I broke down sobbing right there in the NICU. I'd felt so abandoned by God and betrayed by church and Christians. I'd felt so alone.

But in that moment, I realized Jesus hadn't forsaken me. 

Because He'd sent His Mother to comfort me.

Part 2 next week!

**Comments that are disparaging to Catholics and/or Mary will not be published. There is so much misinformation and misunderstanding among Protestants regarding Mary that I have chosen not to perpetuate that on my blog. Thank you for understanding.**

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Halloween is NOT a pagan holiday---boycotts unnecessary!

Boycotting Halloween is like all popular now. When I was a kid, we were the only family in our entire neighborhood whose house went dark on Halloween. Because, you know, Halloween is a pagan, evil holiday and Christians shouldn't celebrate it 'cuz that's like Jews celebrating Hitler's birthday.

We didn't even pass out Gospel tracks like those Christians who see evangelistic outreach potential in every single holiday. And we certainly weren't going to throw a faux Halloween church party called a "Fall Festival." Because that was COMPROMISING WITH THE WORLD, yo.

So, we did the most Christian thing and cowered in our darkened home, praying we wouldn't get tricked. Or, you know, persecuted for righteousness' sake.

But now? Now it seems like all kinds of Christians--and not just fundamentalists--boycott Halloween. 

The common reasoning seems to be that Halloween, an originally "pagan holiday," was "Christianized" by Catholics--yet another example, fundamentalists like to say, of Catholics corrupting true, pure Christian faith.

As an adult, I realize our boycott of Halloween had more to do with anti-Catholic sentiment than actual historical fact. Back then, I didn't even think Catholics were Christians.

Now that I know the Catholic Church isn't, in fact, leading millions of souls to Hell, imagine my surprise in discovering that "the origins of Halloween are, in fact, very Christian and rather American."

When I was a fundamentalist, I never even stopped to ask what the word Halloween meant. 

Hallow=holy
e'en= contraction for the word 'evening'

Thus, Halloween means the holy evening before All Saints Day. 

All of which to say, I would probably still be a fundamentalist if it weren't for the Internets.

Furthermore, so what if Christians "Christianize" things? That doesn't alloy our faith. Christianizing is what Christians do. I mean, if we're gonna get really technical--didn't Christians "Christianize" the Jewish faith?

And anyway, who decided that the goal of life is to avoid all things pagan? If that's the case, I guess we better come up with a different name for Thursday since it was named after the god Thor.

Of course, Halloween has become a largely secular holiday with widespread overtones of the occult. But that doesn't mean Halloween needs to be boycotted altogether. It just means that a lot of mainstream Christians have allowed pre-Christian superstition about the dead to takeover what should be a redemptive holiday.

It's possible to celebrate Halloween without glorifying the secular aspects of this particular holiday. The true celebration of Halloween should be about acknowledging our mortality--followed by remembering those who have gone before us on All Saints Day.

It's possible to celebrate and enjoy Halloween if you can, like I had to, overcome the reflexively anti-Catholic perspective that was ingrained into my Protestant DNA. 

I really hope more Christians don't boycott Halloween this year because me and my five kiddos are going trick-or-treating and guess what? We don't want a Gospel pamphlet.

WE WANT CANDY!

Although if you pass out Mint Milanos instead? I'll totally say GOD BLESS YOU! :-D

*******DISCLAIMERS!*********

1. One buggy thing about Halloween is all the stupid, sexy costumes. On TODDLERS. 
2. It's even worse for tweens. My 11 year old wears tween sizes now and seriously, these are the options:
3. Sexy witch.
4. Sexy ladybug.
5. Sexy pumpkin.
6. At one point she was all: WHATEVER HAPPENED TO APPROPRIATE?
7. Her words.
8. See? It's not just moms who don't want sexy kid costumes. Even my KID doesn't want sexy.
9. We finally found something.
10. But next year? I'm so totally sewing the costumes.
11. Um. I have 5 kids. I better start sewing NOW. Ack!

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When you can't make sense of it all, make pizza. At the very least, dance in the kitchen with your rolling pin.

When I make pizza, I turn on the music and dance unabashedly with my rolling pin. Rolling pins are very obliging partners.

Scandalous as it may sound to my proper fundamentalist upbringing, I really like to have fun. I can't help it. I've tried to squelch that unholy urge for years. Then I discovered Catholicism.

Now I eat, drink and am merry. For tomorrow I go to Confession. 

KIDDING!

Let's just put it this way: Catholicism has given me the long-awaited permission to enjoy my life. Now I attack life with WILD ABANDON and without one tiny scintilla of guilt. I love making pizza, I love making sex, I love making a bajillion kids, I love a bustling, bright kitchen where food and drink and laughter, debate, discussion and dancing with rolling pins are not only allowed...they are CELEBRATED!

Speaking of pizza, look at this beauty I whipped up the other night:

 
I call it Greek Pizza. I don't know if there IS such a thing as Greek Pizza, but eh. I threw some Kalamata olives on there and called it Greek. OPA!

After all, I am Greek and we Greeks like to take credit for everything in Western civilization. Including Pizza. Which may or may not be Greek. But who's quibbling?

Is it Italy or Greece? Is it Rome or Constantinople? Is it the Pope or the Patriarch?

See, did you ever suspect that making pizza was so pregnant with such potential controversy?!

We Greeks also like to say the Greek Orthodox church was the official, original Church. To which I say: TYPICAL GREEK. Then again, I do love the Greek Orthodox Church and am sorely ticked off at my Grandfather for abandoning it and thinking he knew better and could start his own, new and improved church. WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT ENDED. Typical Greek.

So, here I am. And I hate picking sides.

Why should I? Anyone can see Italian pizza does just fine with Greek olives on top.

Can't the Orthodox and Catholic churches just make up already?

Everybody kiss and eat pizza!

OPA!

 

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