I was born into a very Catholic family but I was not raised Catholic (my mother isn’t Catholic). But when my aunts and uncles would visit, I’d go with them to Mass. I’ve been attending Masses with varying frequency since about 1968.
The Catholic faith for me was like being born into it by inheriting it through my maternal grandmother, and her mother who came over to United States in 1913. Church attendance was like eating vegetables at dinner, because it was good for you. No reasons were offered. It was more of a custom than a conviction. And when my father and grandfather would not go, this added more seeds of doubt. By time Confirmation came around, and formation of faith in catechism was nearly non existent, I experienced doubts about deserving something not understood. Confirmation was more like conformity to family and peers, who were undergoing the same rite of passage. Nobody quite understood it, much like who questions the robe and cap at high school and college graduations. Confirmation was a commencement for many to walk out the doors ill prepared to know anything of God and His purposes in this life. Many succumb to megachurches, cynicism and indifference. Suffering and confusion without meaning has a way to focus the mind to return to examine a family heirloom in the attic of the heart. This has really been a trial and temptation, especially when other self-professed Christians ask if a personal relationship with Jesus exists. I cannot possibly imagine if they know what they are asking if they understood the Eucharist. Instead, it fosters doubt and confusion as to the objectivity of truth amongst the subjectivity and relativism within religion itself.
