Member-only story
The Catholic Church (Should Be) Dead.
If You’re Still Loyal, You’re Part of the Problem
My father died when I was just 20 years old, in 1991. It was sudden, and a total shock to my system. I had been the archetypal “daddy’s girl,” so much so that the last photo I have of us together is me sitting on his lap about six months earlier.
Religion in our household was a bit like a bag of mixed vegetables — carrots, peas, corn — all thrown in together but resultng in a pleasant grouping. I had mixed-religion grandparents on one side who never really attended and for whom religion was more cultural than spiritual. On the other side, my grandmother could be counted on to sit in the same pew at tiny St. Joseph’s Episcopal in my hometown.
When my father died so unexpectedly, I was adrift. Like many people who endure a trauma like that, I went in search of any comfort I could imagine. There, with all of its ritual and confidence was the Catholic Church.
The guy I was dating at the time hailed from an Irish Catholic family that attended church semi-regularly, but to whom the imprimatur of Catholic held significant value. I converted, having attended RCIA — the Rite of Catholic Initiation in Adulthood. The process of conversion was beautiful in many ways, and served the purpose of bringing me something to cling to in my deep loss.
