When I was in 11th grade, my friend Cathy invited me to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve in her big old Catholic church in Narberth, PA. It was my first time at a church service. It was one of the most beautiful sights Id ever seen. So was Kathy—which, admittedly, was one reason why I accepted her invitation (after all, it was 11th grade). At Communion, Cathy asked me if Id like to come up to the altar with her to take the wine and the wafer. I said Id better not, cause if I did, my grandmother would drop dead right where she stood in her house three miles away. I watched as Cathy knelt and and ate and drank. Wonder upon wonder. I saw my friend in a strange new light...not exactly transubstantiation, but along the same lines. When she came back to join me in the pew, Cathy looked at me and gave a little giggle, which I think was her sweet way of making me feel comfortable and connected to her at such a potentially separating moment. Ever since, I have often thought of her religion as Cathyism. The wafer of that night has never melted from my mouth. If you love anyone whose faith is different from yours, and they love you back, then you both have the same faith. Its so good that you dont have to give it a name. Thats my Faithbook post for the day.
Posted on: Wed, 03 Sep 2014 10:56:06 +0000