My mom asked me to accompany her at Christ the King Church last weekend. It was Fr. Jerry Orbos' birthday and being personally invited to his thanksgiving mass, she invited her sister - my aunt, who had just recovered from a very serious illness that disabled her for almost six months.
Since I do not have any itineraries that day (except to continue my reading for the final paper, whose progress is already delayed for almost a week), I granted my mom's request knowing that no one would assist her or push her wheelchair going to the church.
However, I gave her one condition. The moment she and my aunt settles in one of the pews, I would have to leave the building to continue my reading elsewhere.
Because I don't attend the mass, especially the homily part which often bored me.
With a slight expression of disappointment, she accepted my condition. This is the only way she could bring me to church.
But many years ago, when I was just a little boy, I was not like this. Before, I was even a religious kid who prayed the rosary everyday. However, the moment I discovered how to masturbate, I began to feel awkward with my situation. This vulnerability lead me to distance myself from my very-Christian beginnings.
One fateful afternoon at the Santa Clara Church, my mom asked me to go the priest to have a confession. I was in high school then and studying at a secular school weakened my faith tremendously. My mom said that since I had my last confession during elementary, perhaps it would be best for me to have another one. I was hesitant then because of my state of faith. But nevertheless she forced me to. After all, my understanding then was that the priest might help me recover my faith once again.
The confession was supposed to be my spiritual reinforcement. But instead of getting enlightened and absolved after talking to the priest, he shattered what remains of my belief. He accused me of many things that I never did, up to the point that methinks I am doomed to eternal damnation already.
I forgot what sins I confessed to that wretched priest. But after that tragic experience, I never spoke to any priest again. I became very weary of their presence and during the times I went to the mass, I would always get critical of their homilies. As for the tragic confession incident, it lead to a crisis of faith that was only partially resolved after I entered the Royal Pontifical University of the country. Nevertheless, my spiritual belief was already altered by the time I regained my faith. I remained a Roman Catholic, but my views significantly differs from those who share the same affiliation with me.
Now back at the present - at the Christ the King where my mom and her sister were waiting for Fr. Orbos to officiate the mass. I entered the building to inform my mom that the birthday cake she requested me to buy at Red Ribbon for the celebrant has been delivered to his office. As the church choir sings the opening hymn, I was at the center aisle beside the pulpit where my mom and her sister were seated. Their thoughts and hearts were focused to the mass and since I felt extremely awkward that I was the only one who was not paying attention to what was happening, I asked my mom if I could already leave.
She asked me to stay. She told me "Sabi ng ninang mo, dito ka na lang daw sa amin."
I didn't buy her excuse. She thought that my aunt who used to have a sharp tongue (before she had the illness) could still intimidate me, just like when I was still young.
I was about to leave when I heard Fr. Orbos' opening message to the flock; "Be very thankful to the Lord for being here in celebrating the Eucharist. We should always be very appreciative of still being alive..." I saw my aunt and her son close to tears.
---
These past few days, I spent most of the time in G4M in the philosophical and spiritual forum debating about religion and spirituality. I think for those who regularly posted in those threads, my presence tipped off the scale in their never-ending debates about morality. For the first time in the forum's recent history, someone openly assisted a "satanist" who was solely defending his "beliefs" against his detractors - who were mostly Christian Fundamentalist that openly preached the Bible while openly practicing their homosexual inclinations.
What's more shocking is that the "satanist's" ally admitted to everyone that he is indeed Roman Catholic.
In religious debates alone, I could always pin down a Bible-based preacher by simply stating that "God can never be entirely found in a book." For me, the best way to get closer to the Almighty is by doing acts of kindness towards others and appreciating little things, most of us could never see anymore. Thanks to the prevailing trends and pop-culture, our minds are fixed at looking for grander and more spectacular "miracles," which in most cases are merely fabricated.
Sad to say, but many faithful tend to depend the bulk of their faith in an object or some certain religious figure for religious reinforcement. They tend to forget the simple truth that God is everywhere - in the millions of stars at night, in the breathtaking sunsets that we enjoy in the afternoon, in random acts of kindness being given to us by strangers and by knowing that all our loved ones have arrived home safe at night.
But you know what, I realized last weekend that despite how remarkably liberating my spiritual beliefs are, I too needed some spiritual ammunition from time to time. Knowing that very few believers shares my foundation, there is a very big possibility that I might get lost in my own spiritual journey.
In fact, there are times I really get lost. When I am alone and contemplating about the universe, I still ask myself where my faith in God really lies.
And so, being confronted by my little "crisis of faith." I resort to humility for answers - or at least comfort to my own questioning. I know that arrogance and deception will never get me anywhere so in times like this, like everyone else, I look up to the religious mainstream for guidance.
That Sunday, my mom succeeded in convincing me to stay. Despite the awkwardness I felt the whole time, I did hear the mass just to be with the rest of my loved ones.
Since I do not have any itineraries that day (except to continue my reading for the final paper, whose progress is already delayed for almost a week), I granted my mom's request knowing that no one would assist her or push her wheelchair going to the church.
However, I gave her one condition. The moment she and my aunt settles in one of the pews, I would have to leave the building to continue my reading elsewhere.
Because I don't attend the mass, especially the homily part which often bored me.
With a slight expression of disappointment, she accepted my condition. This is the only way she could bring me to church.
But many years ago, when I was just a little boy, I was not like this. Before, I was even a religious kid who prayed the rosary everyday. However, the moment I discovered how to masturbate, I began to feel awkward with my situation. This vulnerability lead me to distance myself from my very-Christian beginnings.
One fateful afternoon at the Santa Clara Church, my mom asked me to go the priest to have a confession. I was in high school then and studying at a secular school weakened my faith tremendously. My mom said that since I had my last confession during elementary, perhaps it would be best for me to have another one. I was hesitant then because of my state of faith. But nevertheless she forced me to. After all, my understanding then was that the priest might help me recover my faith once again.
The confession was supposed to be my spiritual reinforcement. But instead of getting enlightened and absolved after talking to the priest, he shattered what remains of my belief. He accused me of many things that I never did, up to the point that methinks I am doomed to eternal damnation already.
I forgot what sins I confessed to that wretched priest. But after that tragic experience, I never spoke to any priest again. I became very weary of their presence and during the times I went to the mass, I would always get critical of their homilies. As for the tragic confession incident, it lead to a crisis of faith that was only partially resolved after I entered the Royal Pontifical University of the country. Nevertheless, my spiritual belief was already altered by the time I regained my faith. I remained a Roman Catholic, but my views significantly differs from those who share the same affiliation with me.
Now back at the present - at the Christ the King where my mom and her sister were waiting for Fr. Orbos to officiate the mass. I entered the building to inform my mom that the birthday cake she requested me to buy at Red Ribbon for the celebrant has been delivered to his office. As the church choir sings the opening hymn, I was at the center aisle beside the pulpit where my mom and her sister were seated. Their thoughts and hearts were focused to the mass and since I felt extremely awkward that I was the only one who was not paying attention to what was happening, I asked my mom if I could already leave.
She asked me to stay. She told me "Sabi ng ninang mo, dito ka na lang daw sa amin."
I didn't buy her excuse. She thought that my aunt who used to have a sharp tongue (before she had the illness) could still intimidate me, just like when I was still young.
I was about to leave when I heard Fr. Orbos' opening message to the flock; "Be very thankful to the Lord for being here in celebrating the Eucharist. We should always be very appreciative of still being alive..." I saw my aunt and her son close to tears.
---
These past few days, I spent most of the time in G4M in the philosophical and spiritual forum debating about religion and spirituality. I think for those who regularly posted in those threads, my presence tipped off the scale in their never-ending debates about morality. For the first time in the forum's recent history, someone openly assisted a "satanist" who was solely defending his "beliefs" against his detractors - who were mostly Christian Fundamentalist that openly preached the Bible while openly practicing their homosexual inclinations.
What's more shocking is that the "satanist's" ally admitted to everyone that he is indeed Roman Catholic.
In religious debates alone, I could always pin down a Bible-based preacher by simply stating that "God can never be entirely found in a book." For me, the best way to get closer to the Almighty is by doing acts of kindness towards others and appreciating little things, most of us could never see anymore. Thanks to the prevailing trends and pop-culture, our minds are fixed at looking for grander and more spectacular "miracles," which in most cases are merely fabricated.
Sad to say, but many faithful tend to depend the bulk of their faith in an object or some certain religious figure for religious reinforcement. They tend to forget the simple truth that God is everywhere - in the millions of stars at night, in the breathtaking sunsets that we enjoy in the afternoon, in random acts of kindness being given to us by strangers and by knowing that all our loved ones have arrived home safe at night.
But you know what, I realized last weekend that despite how remarkably liberating my spiritual beliefs are, I too needed some spiritual ammunition from time to time. Knowing that very few believers shares my foundation, there is a very big possibility that I might get lost in my own spiritual journey.
In fact, there are times I really get lost. When I am alone and contemplating about the universe, I still ask myself where my faith in God really lies.
And so, being confronted by my little "crisis of faith." I resort to humility for answers - or at least comfort to my own questioning. I know that arrogance and deception will never get me anywhere so in times like this, like everyone else, I look up to the religious mainstream for guidance.
That Sunday, my mom succeeded in convincing me to stay. Despite the awkwardness I felt the whole time, I did hear the mass just to be with the rest of my loved ones.