Closer, Further

Through the journey and beauty of conversion.

I was born into an Irish Catholic world. A very Irish Catholic world.

My mother, a Philadelphia native and a proud Irish woman, was the most influential part of my Catholic upbringing. She taught my sister and I the basic beliefs of Christianity, from the Bible to the Holy Trinity. She has been beside me during four of my seven holy sacraments. She has blessed the food in front of me in the name of the Lord. She taught me that to be close to God, you must be close to Christ. To protect from evil, you must pray to Jesus. To go to heaven, repent to a Priest.

I was born into a Catholic world, but I never considered myself Catholic.

I have always had my doubts, fears, and questions about the Christian faith and what it meant to be a good Catholic. I remember expressing my concerns and questions about Jesus and other Christian ideals to my mother at a very young age, only to be left more confused and further away from the church. I never felt like I belonged during Mass or my Sunday School. I knew all of the Creeds and formal prayers, but never recited them at mass, not out of spite or disrespect, but out of confusion and unclarity. I prayed the rosary privately, but I felt so detached from it, even though it was carefully wrapped in the palm of my hand.

I always wondered, if God is one, why are there three? If I wanted to talk to God, why must I first talk to Jesus? If Christ is the Messiah, why was he born man and suffered death, only to come again? If I was created by God, why was I born wicked from Original Sin? Why am I to fear Satan, rather than overcome him through my own vision of what is good and what is evil? Why do Christians idealize the vow of poverty? I never understood how we could just say our prayers and our penance, and be saved for eternity. I found myself asking these questions at a very young age, with no sense of relief for years to come.

Until recently, conversion never crossed my mind. I always thought I had to just work through it and force myself to trust in the Lord our God. I used to be so terrified at the thought of leaving the church because I never wanted to disrespect my mothers good intentions of raising me Catholic, I wanted to keep giving Christianity a chance, and I was scared to go out into the world without a sense of community in religion. Little did I know that I was never a part of a religious community in the first place.

I can’t quite remember the first time I sincerely thought about Judaism, but I do remember the feeling I got when I first read the stories of Abraham, the emotions I received when I read Jewish philosophy, Jewish Laws, and Jewish beliefs. It was raw, fierce, and beautiful all at the same time. I clearly remember my previous fear of conversion to be swept away with every word I read regarding the Talmudic passages. I was happy to find a place in my heart where I could ask questions freely, with no scornful glance or strict explanation. I found that Judaism answered all of the questions my Catholic mind had.

While I know this is no easy journey, and most definitely no short story, I believe that I’m on the right track to finding a sense of belonging through religion.

And it truly is exciting.