I was reading Hayduke's article today entitled, "My Problems with Religion -- Part One", and I was inspired to make a comment... but then I quickly realized that I was writing a freakin' book and was probably better off to reign it in, and save my story for my own podium... or blog.

Unlike Hayduke, I was not raised to obey the heavy-handed laws of the Catholic Church. I grew up unfamiliar with terms like purgatory – actually I didn’t even know the proper definition until reading Hayduke’s article this morning. As for Limbo… well, who knew there was ever such a thing? In fact, even today, I probably couldn’t tell you the difference between a priest and a cardinal… except that I think a cardinal is closer in hierarchy to the pope, which probably means that he is closer to God, right? And I believe he also wears a tall cardinal-coloured hat… correct? I really don’t know. It’s just a guess.

No, I was not raised in the Catholic Church. Instead I spent all my formative years attending Zion Evangelical United Church. But as a kid, it didn’t make a difference. To me, church was church – whether it was a strict Catholic church, or an easy-breezy United Church. We went every single Sunday, like it or not. Sometimes I had to go even if I was sick. In fact, back in the days before wheelchair accessibility, I had surgery on both my feet and was in a wheelchair for a couple months -- and even then someone carried me and my wheelchair downstairs so I wouldn’t miss any Sunday school. No rest for the wicked… We had to be at church Every. Single. Sunday. That’s just how it was.

I have to admit there were times when attending church felt like punishment – even if it was only for an hour a week – especially once Sunday School started taking place *before* the sermon, which meant that instead of shuffling off downstairs after 15 minutes of preaching, us kids had to first attend an hour of Sunday School and then go sit upstairs and endure another whole hour of “adult” preaching. Groan. Since that time it sounds like my parents’ church has switched it back to the way it was, which I think makes much more sense. Kids are more engaged in Sunday School than they are with stale scriptures and sermons that fly right over their heads. I know that I spent many a Sunday sitting in the pew, drawing elaborate pictures on my offering envelope. Oh gosh, I totally remember how I would panic if my pen didn’t work, and then running around trying to find another one before the sermon started, just so I didn’t have to be bored to death during the service. My parents obviously weren’t always impressed - however, word soon got around that the money counters always looked forward to my little drawings… so heck, I couldn’t let them down, right?

But as much as I didn’t pay attention in church, or resented attending Sunday School when I was sick… I was still very spiritual. I prayed all the time. I believed in God with my whole heart. And I always wanted to learn more – more than the stories of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Moses in the basket, Noah and the Ark, the fish and the loaves, the Crucifixion, etc…. I wanted to know the answers that my Sunday School teachers could never quite address. What was God’s relationship to me -- just a spirit in the clouds, a passive listener, or a real true active part of my life? Why don’t we ever hear about miracles happening anymore? Did they just stop back in the olden days? Why doesn’t anyone ever discuss the Book of Revelation with its freaky beasts and modern day predictions? Why can’t anyone give me a clear explanation of who the Holy Spirit is? I found the unknown fascinating… but no one would answer my questions.

I remember the big controversy in 1988 when the United Church opened its doors to allow gays in to preach. And just like the Book of Exodus, people left our little united church en masse. I honestly didn’t get it. Some close friends of my parents left the church to attend a different one across town, while some of our neighbours (who even had a gay brother/son) looked down their noses at my parents who chose to stay. Again, I simply didn’t get it. First of all, I didn’t see anything wrong with allowing gays in to the United church to preach. It seemed pretty un-Christian like to judge another based on their sexuality. I was taught that God loves *everyone* – so why are these friends and neighbours casting stones against those who want a chance to preach God's word? But more than that, I really couldn’t understand how one church could be wrong and another could be right if they’re all preaching from the exact same book? It didn’t make any sense – at all!

I was only 8 turning 9 in 1988, but I remember it being a bit of a turning point that I wouldn’t fully explore until years later. After overhearing all the uproar about who had left our church and who had decided to stay, I can still recall asking my dad after church one Sunday, “How do we know if one church is right and another is wrong? If we all learn from the same Bible, then which church is the right one?”

Much like the daunting question of “Where do babies come from?”, I’m sure my own inquisitive remark took my unprepared father off guard, because looking back, his rationale was as weak as could be… although I have to admit that at the time it satisfied my curious 8 or 9 year old mind. Dad’s response -- “Our church is the right church for you, because it’s the one your mother and I were raised in, and it’s the one that your grandparents go to… and you always do what your parents and grandparents tell you.”

Fair enough. I suppose we all do what we’re told as children… until we’re old enough to have a mind of our own. And even then, I guess there’s a certain level of comfort in maintaining tradition. My cousin and my sister still occasionally attend church, and naturally it’s the same one that we were all raised in. My niece now wears a cute little gold cross around her neck given to her by her Nan and Poppa, who pick her up and bring her to Sunday School every Sunday. And even though my sister also has her own very distinct views about spirituality, I think she occasionally attends my parents’ church because it makes them happy, and she supports the idea that my niece should have some sort of foundation for her own spiritual journey… whether lil’ Josie chooses to pursue the path of the United church or her own path later on, Sunday School gives her a starting point.


Alright… I should have known that this would have transformed into a bigger subject to tackle than I had originally anticipated… I’ll continue with more later on….