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The Catholic Experience 2/23/2012 10:26:14 PM
I think that I am the only practicing Catholic at Greater Trump. I don’t brag about it. But I sensed that I am the only one declaring that if it’s Sunday, to church I go. Many would talk about travel, politics and economics, for example, but to talk about religion, it is only between PDX Mike and me that discussed things dogmatic. But we don’t discuss things spiritual. To a greater degree, our discussion revolved around why the church doesn’t ordinate women, pedophilia and the Nicean Creed. It is difficult to discuss religion in its generality and Catholicism in its specifics because the discussion gets too boggy.
But yes, I do go to church every Sunday (except for very rare occasions.) When I enter the church, I hear singing and reverential, silent prayers. We rouse to start the mass with singing as I turn to the page the hymn was being sung. We go through the motions of standing, sitting and kneeling; and in about an hour, the service is done. I guess it is like Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. Collectively, there is also standing, sitting, kneeling and kowtowing in these religions.
I remember to witness ordination of priest at the Vatican. It was the reign of John Paul II. That mass took me three hours. They say it was a high mass and that was why that mass took that long. The ordination was conducted along with the mass. There was a long line of priests and although I sat quite far from the altar I can follow its proceedings. In my church, there was no ordination. I know that former non-believers were indoctrinated into the Catholic faith. I am witness to the installation of our father; father Petrus (the parish priest.) I heard about the assignment of our deacon. But yeah, I did not experience the one I did at the Vatican.
A miracle did happen at the Vatican. When I wanted to attend the mass of John Paul II, I was told that I needed a ticket to be able to attend the mass. I felt distressed that I didn’t have one. As I was leaving the barricades, a “small blue bird” told me to ask a gentleman behind me for a ticket; and there was indeed a gentleman. Indeed, he was a priest. So I asked him. He asked how many do I need. I said, “One.” And out from nowhere, he produced that one miracle ticket.
I was young then, perhaps twenty-five. And it was my first time to attend a high holy mass. I remembered aside from the ordination of the priests was this British couple. The lady asked me where the bathrooms were. For the length of the mass, I supposed that the lady wanted to go.
I went to Catholic schools. I went under the Claretians, the Bedans and the Jesuits. I attended the Ateneo and the University of San Francisco. I never attended a non-denominational school or public school. Truly, my education and upbringing was all catholic. There were no regrets. I enjoyed the rigors. I felt challenged and I questioned a lot of its doctrines. And at the end, accepted them, nonetheless.
My family was also practicing Catholics. I would say that my mom is the “most-est.” She not only believed in the faith but she practiced it to the T. She attended prayer meetings, novenas and sings in the choir. My nieces practiced their Catholism not too reverentially, although they say that they do. Hector, my sister’s boyfriend made a joke. He said that the girls attend mass just before the priest gives his final benediction. That’s quite a hoot!
Then Lee, a friend from Trumps made this snide but funny comment. Yeah he believed in miracles; even the miracle of the balut (a cooked duck egg with its embryo half developed. Delicious!)
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