As I mentioned briefly in another article, I had a religious upbringing. Most, if not all, of my family members are Catholic Christians. I also attended the same catholic school that a decent amount of my relatives graduated from. As you can imagine, a large part of my formative years revolved around the faith, and I remember feeling like it was very important to me. Young me was pretty devout, especially towards the Virgin Mary. I prayed every night with my mother, and I was very eager when I began learning about the Sacraments — Confession and First Communion were very important events to me.
Yet, as time went on, I slowly felt the passion I once had for my faith fade away. My family stopped going to church every Sunday simply because our lives became a bit more hectic. It wasn’t anybody’s fault that my feelings began to change. Life is ever-changing, and faith isn’t exempt from that. Spiritual journeys in general are extremely complex and deeply personal experiences; our beliefs change as we grow and continue to work on ourselves. In my case, specifically, I think I was disillusioned over time because of scandals and historical events, as well as being a queer person who has several religious, homophobic relatives.
But I digress; the road that led me to be my semi-spiritual self isn’t the focus of this piece.
Lent began on March 5th this year, marking the beginning of one of the most important periods within the Catholic calendar. Fasting, prayer, and other rituals usually serve to evoke a sense of spiritual depth and connection. However, for those of us who have found ourselves drifting away from what our beliefs once were, it can be a bit tricky. For example, I have continued my effort to not consume meat on Lent Fridays, as I did growing up. Yet, it has stopped feeling like something I willingly gave up as a symbol of commitment and has become something I worry about. If I accidentally slip up, I feel a sense of guilt, even if the more rational part of my brain knows that it was a mistake and that it wasn’t a major transgression.
That guilt also follows me whenever I step into my church, to be honest. I attend service nearly every Sunday at 9:30, but it doesn’t stem from a strong sense of faith or a wish to be more active within the community. I’ve been part of the church’s music group for nearly a year now, and that is the reason that my attendance at church has remained steady. The priest’s sermons never really stick with me, his words sliding off me like water slides off a duck. Even now, at a time when self-reflection and penance are so encouraged, it all feels out of my reach.
Now, as Lent draws to a close, Holy Week seems to be inching closer while humming the theme from Jaws. While it doesn’t necessarily indicate impending doom, it is still kind of a heavy period to go through. For those whose faith is strong, the themes of suffering, death, and resurrection might carry a lot of weight, channeling a sacredness that is very important to them. In my experience, the meaning of all the rituals surrounding Holy Week up until its end on Easter has faded into a distant memory and sense of connection. My family always goes to church on Easter Sunday, and then we spend time with our close family members, so it’s nice to be able to see them more than I usually do.
Even with all those neutral/negative feelings surrounding this time, I think that maybe it could also be a chance for me to reinvent myself and explore the spiritual side of me that fizzled out after my Confirmation back in the 12th grade. While I’m physically present at church, my soul has been pretty far away for a long time. Perhaps this time around, I’ll be able to redefine what faith is to me in a way that’s authentic and meaningful for my personal journey.