Retreat
I was raised in the Roman Catholic faith. I didn’t last much beyond the age of reason there, as once I was able to reason for myself, I couldn’t find a good reason to hang around there much longer.
They’d done their best to try to convince me that there were two kinds of people in the world — good Catholics who, if they played their cards right, could go right to heaven when they died, or get a switching flight in purgatory to heaven, after a brief layover.
Just don’t commit any mortal sins, and you were on your way. Commit a mortal sin, and your soul was going straight to hell on a direct flight.
For those poor heathen who weren’t Catholic — well, they were all going to purgatory or hell, and even if they went to purgatory, it was going to be a long stay before heaven might be achieved.
They had confession in the catholic faith, where you went into a little confessional booth, next to a booth the priest was in, with a window between them. The priest would slide the door to the window over, and ask you what your sins were.
I quickly learned that you didn’t want to tell the truth during a confession, if you didn’t want the priest jumping down your throat. I made that mistake once, and swore, never again. I think I told him about masturbating, and he acted like I’d committed a mortal sin. So, I never talked about that again, in confession or otherwise. Some things are just better left alone, I figured. So, I’d make stuff up when I went to confession.
I was an altar boy when I was about 9 or 10 years old. Back then, the Mass was said in Latin, so I had to learn all the prayers in Latin, so I could say my part, which was usually a response to a line the priest had said. It took some time and hard work, but eventually I learned all those Latin prayers. I didn’t know what they meant, but that was okay — it was all a part of the mystery of the holy church.
Then, they went and changed it up on me. They started doing the masses in English, after the Vatican II Council, so I had to re-learn all those prayers in English, now. When I saw what those words were, they really didn’t make any sense to me. Plus, they took the mystery out of the thing. It wouldn’t be much longer before I was so disenchanted with the church, I stopped going to mass, dropped out of the catholic high school and transferred to the public high school, and never really looked back.
My parents still dragged me to mass on Sundays, but at least they started going to some of the cooler masses, folk masses with guitars and cool songs. That at least made it tolerable, as long as I had to be there.
I went to a retreat down in Faulkner, Maryland, last weekend, at this beautiful retreat house right on the Potomac River, near the mouth of the river, where it feeds into the Chesapeake Bay. It’s a facility that belongs to the Jesuits, a very intense Catholic order of priests, but the retreat was facilitated by an orthodox Jewish rabbi who was also a recovered alcoholic. That was really interesting!
The rabbi was really great. He was very entertaining, very genuine, and funny as hell. This retreat was a lot bigger, in terms of numbers, then the ones I normally go to up in Connecticut. There were about 75 of us at this one — the maximum number we have at the one in Connecticut is 28. But, although it was a different dynamic and larger, I got just as much out of this one as I did out of those.
I was even asked to speak on Saturday night, at the speaker meeting. There were four speakers, and I was the last one. I’ve never been asked to be the Saturday night speaker at the Connecticut retreats, so it really surprised me when they asked me.
It struck me as kind of funny, how things have changed. When I was a good little Catholic kid, I had learned not to tell the truth about my deep, dark secrets, lest someone jump down my throat for it. Here, at this catholic retreat facility, I was baring my soul to a whole roomful of alcoholics and addicts, with no fear of someone lecturing me or telling me I was wrong.
I used to feel that way about telling stories on Cowbird, and then on Story Hall, but that changed. I’ve become more inhibited about being honest and truthful about what’s going on with me. I posted a story that honestly conveyed what I was going through over a situation I was dealing with, and I was told it was not appropriate, by someone who I respect, so I took the story down, and upon reflection, did agree that it probably wasn’t appropriate to have posted it.
After that, I couldn’t find anything I felt like writing about. What if what I say is not appropriate? I was struggling with some things, and the way I have dealt with a lot of things I’ve struggled with, over the last 5 ½ years, anyway, has been by writing stories about it. It’s my way of processing what I’m going through.
It kind of reminded me of how I felt after that priest scolded me for being honest in confession. It ruined that sacrament for me. Not to worry, though. There’s always other ways to process one’s changes, and I’ve just turned to those ways.
I came to the conclusion that maybe it’s time to just shut up for awhile, when it comes to storytelling, and process my changes a little more in private. That way, I can go through what I have to go through, without someone passing judgement on me, for being me, and just do my own thing. It’s better, I think.
I have gotten a lot more into writing poetry over the past month or two, which has been kind of wonderful. I’ve enjoyed that a lot. So far, no one on that site has jumped on my case about anything I wrote. I don’t feel as inhibited about what I say in my poems, there.
That’s about all I wanted to say in this story — maybe a lot more than I planned on saying, but hopefully, I haven’t offended anyone.
I hope everyone who celebrates it, enjoys their thanksgiving tomorrow, and has a wonderful time with family, or friends, or sharing with those less fortunate, all great ways to spend the day. We’ll be hosting this year, for the first time in many years — we usually travel up to Lancaster to be with some family there, but this year, thought we’d stay around here, to be with our son and have friends over.
There is so much to be thankful for, in my life, I am happy Thanksgiving Day is almost here. I’ve been tuning into what I’m grateful for all month, and it hasn’t been much of a problem to think of what I am. Many positive developments on many fronts, things I have struggled greatly with this year are coming to reasonable conclusions. Thank God!
