Today’s Homily: Cultural Catholic.

Just before I flew back from Singapore, Nette and I thought it would be a good idea to go back to Church. Having nowhere else to go on Sundays, I found myself driven to my knees, specifically the leatherette pews at Our Lady of Perpetual Succour.

Being Catholic, I discovered then, was like knowing how to ride a bicycle. You never forget the right response, the right time to stand, kneel, and sit, and the rationale behind some of the more obscure rites. If you’ve undergone the crucible of Jesuit Catholic education as I have, you wouldn’t forget, either, even if you’ve wandered far from the fold. As I have.

Indeed, I am as far from the shadow of the Church as is humanly possible, if one were to judge from a practicing Catholic’s POV. I do not go to Mass. I can read Bertrand Russell and Richard Dawkins without flinching. I cannot utter the Nicene Creed with sincerity, though I can say it in my sleep. I oppose the Catholic Church’s intervention in the Philippines’ political life, particularly in the fields of birth control and the media.

But you cannot totally undo a Catholic upbringing, at least not without some serious psychic damage. One might say that the vehemence of some evangelicals against many Catholic shibboleths comes from a continuing (and vain) attempt to shake off the baptismal waters. I cannot fight a lost cause; I cannot wholeheartedly say that I am not a Catholic. St. Ignatius is still my personal hero; his Prayer for Generosity still gives me goosebumps. My life is littered with Catholic icons, Catholic truisms, Catholic stories – some of which still ring true, even if the words "I believe in God, the Father Almighty" don’t.

I am a cultural Catholic. There, I said it.

"We are cultural Catholics," writes Anna Quindlen, a practicing Catholic and feminist. "Catholicism is to us now not so much as a system of beliefs or a set of laws but a shared history. It is not so much our faith as our past."

A past that’s both a blessing and a curse. The Jesuits have blessed their more conscientious students with a rich understanding of the faith – along with the implied freedom of choice, like Eve before the snake, to prefer insight over obedience. I cannot reconcile current Church-sponsored misrepresentations of population control with my fervent belief that a family has the right to control the size of their brood. I find it abhorrent that the Church seems to be going out of its way to reward the guilty in the pedophile-priest scandal. I feel disgusted with the Magisterium’s censorship of conscientious Catholic clergy. I have a visceral emotion against these things, the kind that gets under your skin, especially when these run contrary to a lifetime of Catholic instruction.

Yet Catholicism defines who I am, down to my defiance of the Catholic hierarchy which I believe often strays from the original Christian ideals of charity, generosity, and love. I used to think I hated the Church, until I realized that you cannot hate your past – only come to an understanding with it, and perhaps forgive, forget, and go your own way. I have only gone a little way towards that understanding, which may explain why I haven’t fully gone my own way yet. I cannot say I believe in God, yet I still went to Cana with my fiancee, married her in a Catholic Church, and may yet agree to be buried in Catholic rites.

If it sounds confusing, let me say this: I have ceased to look for certainty in the Church, her leadership, and her creeds. I look for a sense of history and continuity that my Catholic upbringing demands. In an uncertain world, I believe this is the best I can hope for. I am a cultural Catholic, which means I believe in my history though my future may lie elsewhere.