Over the recent fourth of July weekend my family and I took a vacation to St. Augustine, Florida. The trip is only a five hour jaunt for us, and we have friends living there who we hadn't seen in about two years, and just getting out of town for a few days felt like a necessity. We hadn't taken a family vacation in quite some time, and the bonding that can occur during such journeys was something we joyfully anticipated. While we were on our way to enjoy brunch at the Casa Monica, my sister in law phoned to tell us my husband's father had suffered a stroke while at the nursing home visiting with my mother in law. This was sad news and very unexpected, as to all appearances he was healthy as an ox and had been active up to that point, playing tennis with friends on a regular basis as he has for many years. As I type, he has been moved from intensive care and is engaging in rehabilitation, but he has not yet regained his speech, other than to say "yes" and "no" and he is frustrated, as are we. This news cast a sadness over the day, but we browsed the funky downtown shops and art galleries with our friends and tried to move forward into the next day with a more cheerful outlook. We took a trolley ride around downtown St. Augustine and then, later, watched the fireworks sparkling over the fort which overlooks the water. The city put on a beautiful show, though I'm not sure if our little ones had more fun watching the fireworks or chasing each other around with the new light sabers our friend purchased for them at a kiosk close by!
One part of the trip disturbed me a bit. Downtown St. Augustine boasts some beautiful old churches, and my husband, being the good Catholic boy that he is, wanted to attend a service in one of them. Since a mass was being held at around 5:00pm, we decided to attend that one, since we knew that Sunday morning the church would most likely be crowded and we would most likely not be rising very early. While his faith is not mine, I can usually pull some useful morsel of spirituality out of whatever service I am attending, so long as my mind is open enough to do so. The key to this is listening for the words that touch my heart, and disregarding some of the theology with which I disagree. On this day, however, doing this was nearly impossible. The priest in residence spent most of the sermon talking about how our country was founded on Christian beliefs, how in the early days only Christians were allowed to hold positions in governmental offices (and he spoke these latter words as if this was a good thing), how we should fight against the legality of abortion (I don't take abortion lightly but feel that making it illegal is extreme and wrong and sets a dangerous precedent). It seemed that every word he spoke resounded with the idea that Christians are somehow superior to the rest of us, which struck me as highly arrogant and distasteful. At one point, when he talked about the former requirement of Christianity being one's religion if one wanted to hold a position in the political arena, I could not resist speaking aloud (though quietly) that such an idea didn't seem very fair to me. I'm sure that a few of the people around me heard what I said, though nobody gave me any dirty looks. I noticed that a small number of people left the mass before it was over, though I'm not sure what their reasons were. When I was in college, I read extensively about religion, as well as feminism. I've read things about the early days of Christianity (and Catholicism in particular) that made my skin crawl-forced conversions, abuse of people of other faiths, etc. Most recently, the Catholic church has been blamed for sexual abuse and has admitted to having knowledge that they counted some "troubled souls" among their ranks-people who should not have been allowed anywhere near children. I'm not here to bash Catholics or Christians. What I am saying is that it bothers me intensely when anyone of
any particular religion tells me that their way is the only pathway to God, the only right way to practice spirituality. There are many spiritual traditions in the world, many paths to the Higher Power, the Creator, or whatever you personally call your deity or deities of choice. I wish that people would do a little more research before they start belittling the religions of others. If they'd delve a bit more into history, into the history of religion specifically, they might open their minds to the sameness rather than the differences (which is what I try to do when I attend a service such as this one). Recently, I read that the Egyptians actually included a tree of life in their theological beliefs, and the there is some evidence that the Israelites carried some Egyptian spiritual beliefs with them as they formed their own monotheistic religion. When one delves a bit, one might discover how religion has evolved, how many of the traditions practiced today were borrowed from other spiritual paths. Similar mythologies can be found carried through different religions with slight alterations.
In the end, I said a silent prayer of my own and slogged through the rest of the service (the longest I'd ever been to, it seemed). At one point, the congregation sang a song based on the prayer of St. Francis, which I find to be beautiful and which made me feel somewhat better. I returned home with a renewed sense of gratitude for the friends I've who share my own spiritual beliefs, as well as the friends of different faiths who don't belittle me for not believing exactly what they do. Concentrating on the values we share and accepting our friends for who they are is important if we wish to move through this world as peaceful warriors.
Blessed be.
