Test of Faith? No, a Test of Patience
My Uncle Al died in December in Southern California, so one of my aunts or someone arranged for a Mass for him this afternoon in San Antonio.
I am a lapsed Catholic.
Well, make that WAY lapsed, as I refused to be confirmed at age 12 because I didn't like their stance on birth control, having to eat fish sticks on Friday and male-only priests.
So, my family tricked me into going today, but this mass for my uncle was not a funeral mass at all, it was just this incredibly long, confusing, sort of Palm Saturday thing.
They wanted us to stand for 45 minutes while they read to each other about who ratted out Jesus and sold him for 30 pieces of silver (in Canadian money that's about 12 bucks).
I mean, I think Jesus existed, but to me he's just one of many messengers of God, not any less or greater than the Goddess, Vishnu or the rest of that holy crowd.
The Catholic church, except for it's really cool religious gear, is not a faith I would choose to follow.
I mean, they are sexist, way too many of the priests are perverts or pedophiles, they won't let women serve as priests, they talk too much, they are judgmental, and all that kneeling and standing and up and down stuff is just plain uncomfortable.
Besides, I am a queer so I am condemned to Hell in their eyes anyway.
I had a bunch of Catholic first cousins at the mass today, and many were watching me sit when I should stand, watching me fail to recite whatever it was I was supposed to say, watching me give my brother and sister the hen eye for tricking me into going, and in general looking at me like I was tweaking the nipples on the Jesus statue.
I had a bit of a religious epiphany today.
I decided I am not going to any more Catholic services except for weddings and funerals-REAL funerals, not some hokey thing like today where they just mentioned my uncle's name in passing, along with a few other recently departed souls.
After the 90 minutes of monotony, my family returned to my house. I told them all if they outlived me I did NOT want a Catholic funeral, and if they gave me one I'd haunt them.
I mean, seriously, if I want a gay clergyman praying over my dead body, I'll choose one brave enough to be honest about it.