"Recommunicating" with Catholicism

I’ve attended RCIA* at St. Mary Magdalene’s in Willowick** since last September. My Confirmation is now two days away.  And …I’m 49 years old.

My cousin asked me if I wanted to borrow her communion veil from when she was seven, but I thought it might clash with my deepening laugh lines and budding crow’s feet … so I politely declined. (Besides … the veil is 45 years old and would probably disintegrate on top of my head, which would likely lead to more explaining than I’d already have to do). 

So, there will be no veil for yours truly. However, it’s troubling enough to know they’re making me wear white. Never having been married (and certainly not planning on it now), wearing white in church was something I thought I’d never have to worry about.  I’m not a small person. Small persons have a lovely relationship with the color white. Someone like “American Idol” finalist Jessica Sanchez – who weighs, what, 17 pounds? – looks charming in white. Me, I’m a large woman who could put away a buffet the size of Jessica Sanchez.  So, when my well-meaning friends say things like, ‘Good news, I’m bringing my camera!” I have to smile and nod because I know they mean well.  What I’d like to do, of course, is reply with an emphatic “_____ *** no!” and gently smack them over the head with my Bible. I fear, however, that such a passionate display of violence might get me excommunicated before I even get “recommunicated” (I’m pretty sure that’s not an official Catholic term), so I’ll just keep smiling and nodding and praying that they all forget their cameras at home.

If even one person gets a photo of me wearing that robe, I’ll have to look at big ol’ Brenda scrolling across the TV screen in the church lobby (actually, I think the technical term for the lobby is “narthex,” which I had to look up on Google). I believe this is God’s not-so-subtle way of keeping me humble and wanting me, for His sake, to go on a diet already. 

Let me pause for a moment to explain the “recommunication” reference. I was born and baptized by well-meaning parents who intended to raise me Catholic.  Then, along the way, something happened (it might have been Vatican II, or Dad just being pissed at the church for some reason) that sort of derailed that agenda. I never received First Communion and was never confirmed, so I grew up knowing that while I was technically Catholic, I wasn’t Catholic in the ways that really counted. I was always one of those kids who  got left out of the good stuff.  So many of my classmates were participating in events which were beyond my understanding and so, consequently, sounded attractive. I used to feel let down when Donna or Debbie or Nancy or Susan would talk importantly about having to go to Catechism, attend Mass,and give up candy bars for Lent (side note: it was 1970ish… just about every girl in my class was named Donna or Debbie or Nancy or Susan). Plus, I never got to wear the white fluffy dress with the cascading white veil at a time when I was a much smaller person and who would have looked darling in white (now THERE was a window that certainly closed quickly!). Oh… and I would have gotten lots of presents. No kid likes missing out on that.

It took me this long to come back to the church because I just never got around to doing it sooner. I spent most of my 20s, 30s and 40s avoiding commitment of any kind, and the thought of going back to church overwhelmed and intimidated me. I did explore many other faiths and read a lot of books.  I did do a great deal of soul searching over the years…but, after awhile, I realized I was no wiser (and certainly no holier) than when I started.  So, I think what mostly brought me back was a combo platter of a strong cultural connection to the religion, a need to reconnect with a community where I had spent my childhood, and the desire to believe in something worth believing. In spite of all the lousy press it’s gotten over the centuries, Catholicism is a very comforting and beautiful religion. I realize I’m not worthy to step forward to receive my first Holy Communion on Sunday. I can’t honestly say I believe in 100% of everything the church teaches. And man, memorizing those prayers and responses is a real ___.  All I really know is that I’m keeping company with many good, positive people and I feel like I’m finally filling in a hole that’s been yawning inside of me since I was a child.  All of that is more than enough compensation for having to wear white on Sunday. 

Footnotes:

* RCIA - Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. 

**Willowick - Lovely little suburb of Cleveland.  It's where I grew up and where I've come back to live.  

 

***My swearing can still be a problem. I’m working on it. In the meantime, it’s a good thing there’s Confession on Saturdays and both Father Ted and Father Ron are really nice and don’t yell at me or get mean or anything scary like that.

If you’d like to see a copy of our church bulletin (yes, you’ll see my name on the second page), please visit http://www.catholicweb.com/bulletins/58161/May-06-2012.pdf