Mainer's Musings

Memories.....
My husband and I attended the church of my youth for Easter Vigil Mass. I was flooded with memories. I spent so many hours in this church. I was baptized there, made my first confession and First Holy Communion, and I was confirmed there. One of my children was baptized there.  There have been many family/ friend funerals over the years. So yes, I have a history there.
 As a young child I remember sitting in a pew with my family listening to goobledygoop. That would be Latin. The priest's back to us. Then came the changes in the 60s. The masses were in the  languages of the people. For me that would be either French or English depending on which service we attended. The priests had to face us sinners. Oh yes, I was consumed with Catholic guilt at a young age.
I remember the nuns parading us down Walker Street for monthly confessions. Really, I had to come up with sins as a six year old!  What if I did it wrong? Was I really all that sinful? It only contributed to my anxiety. Yup, I was an anxious ,SERIOUS  kid. "Bless me Father for I have sinned..."Hmmm, what is it this month? Fighting with my sister,not saying my prayers,telling a lie. Catholic guilt continues....
Don't get me wrong,there were good memories. The excitement of making FIRST HOLY COMMUNION.  I had a new white dress, covered by a white gown and wearing a white beanie. In those days, females had to wear something on their heads. What was that about? All my adult family members seemed so proud of me that sunny Spring day.
Easter week seemed endless as my family went to church Thursday, Friday,Saturday and Sunday. At least I got a new outfit for Easter. But didn't I hate those white gloves we had to wear to church. After Easter mass,off to Memere' s house we went for dinner and CANDY.
Midnight Mass was the best. It was so exciting to stay up that late. I loved singing Christmas carols in French and English. The church was packed. It seems that someone would be fainting. Maybe it only happened once,but it made an impression on me. Then we would go home for a PARTY- the French Canadian custom of Reveillon.
Then came my teen years.I was questioning some of the dogma. I had my father for CCD. Poor man, I was a pain in the tuckus. For the following years of young adulthood and parenthood, I compartmentalized my issues with the rules of the church in order to be a part of a community.
I have changed so much. I can't support a church that was covering up the abuse issues. I can't support a church that excludes  women as priests. Nuns have always done much of the real work such as teaching,nursing,caring for the poor. Plus the exclusion of the LGBT community is painful. I don't accept,"Love the sinner,not the sin" mentality.
I do find some comfort in the familiarity of the rituals long ingrained in my being. But I do better in a church that is not fraught with memories. And on a limited basis.
So,dear hearts, this is but the surface of what occupied my brain while I sat in the pew breathing in incense at St Hyacinths Church.