3/8/15

For the last few days, I've been plagued by a lot of doubts and fears. About what I believe. About what I'm searching for. About where I fit in... Some days I think I have everything figured out, and others I feel like the rug's been pulled out from under my feet. It's often said that the Catholic Church is a large umbrella, yet I often wonder if it's large enough for me to fit under.

I see in Catholicism a living faith of myths, mysteries, symbols, and sacraments trying to articulate truths that defy the boundaries of human language and reason; and I'm drawn towards those myths, mysteries, symbols, and sacraments. But my faith isn't like most, and I worry that it's too fragile, too discordant to be accepted.

Today, I was full of uncertainty as I waited for Romanos to pick me up for mass. Entering the church, I saw a lot of familiar faces and felt more at ease. Once the service started and we got closer to the first scrutiny, however, I began to worry, wondering if I was doing the right thing, scared to face the idea that maybe I was lying to myself and entering into this before I was ready, or worse, that I was putting my hopes and faith into an institution that I don't fully support. Thoughts of the Church's stance on things like gay marriage, women ordination, and married priests flashed through my mind, as did various scandals and the rather conservative, authoritarian structure of the Church itself. Before I knew it, though, we were being called up to the altar by Fr. Charlie.

Fr. Charlie, who was celebrating his 45th anniversary of ordination, began by asking everyone to bow their heads and pray for an inner spirit of repentance, true clarity of their sins, and God's Grace to face and overcome their temptations. Then he asked the assembly to stand and raise their hands in blessing as both he and Barbara took turns offering prayers on our behalf: that we review our lives and acknowledge our sins, that hold the word of God in our hearts and search its meaning more fully each day, that we sincerely reject everything that's displeasing and contrary to Christ, that the Holy Spirit will help us overcome our weaknesses and become true temples of holiness, and that our daily example will help bring others to Christ.

Afterwards, Fr. Charlie gave an exorcism prayer based on the day's Gospel reading, John 2:13-25, the cleansing of the temple:

All merciful God,
through your Son,
you reveal your love and mercy to those
who ask for these gifts.
Look favorably on these elect and candidate
who are now turning to you.

Open the doors to their hearts
so that they can choose to become
Temples of the Holy Spirit.
Protect them in every danger,
that they may serve you faithfully in peace and joy.

Lord Jesus,
you are the Word to everlasting life.
Over-turn for these Elect the tables in their hearts
that support the temptations of sin.

Help them avoid the lures of the marketplace
so they can hear your call to be
witnesses of your Words.

In the power of your name,
which we now call upon in faith,
stand by them and heal them.

Touch their hearts with the power of the Holy Spirit,
that they may come to salvation
through you who live and reign for ever and ever.

Something about that experience put me at ease. Romanos joked that his real role as my sponsor was to hold me in case I tried to run away; and at the end of mass, I felt light, peaceful, and was reminded once again what attracted me to St. Philip in the first place—the faith of its people.

Most of the things that had me worried are aspects of the Church as a human institution, and those things change. But the real Church, the one that people place their true faith in, is of a different sort. Like the Dhamma, it's timeless. It's universal. It's what lies within the hearts of those who live their lives with conviction in what's skillful and a mind suffused with compassion and loving-kindness. It's the path that leads to theosis, awakening, union with God. And it's that Church that I'm putting my hope and faith into.

Lent is all about 'cleansing the temple.' Not the Temple in Jerusalem, but the temple within, where St. Paul tells us "the Spirit of God dwells" (1 Cor 3:16). I'm still in the process of cleansing my own temple, figuring out what 'God' means to me, how God fits into my life, and how to reach out into the silent darkness and touch the absolute, like a wave touching the sea from which it's born before returning to its fathomless depths.

But I suspect it's a journey that'll take more than 40 days; it'll be a life-long journey of seeking and transformation. And I hope that I'll have the wisdom, patience, and guidance to see this "gradual process by which a person is renewed and unified so completely with God that he becomes by grace what God is by nature" through to the end ("Theosis: Partaking of the Divine Nature").