Being Still in St. Patrick's Cathedral

As opposed to years ago, I am no longer religious nor would I define myself as spiritual, but I do sometimes find myself sitting in a pew at St. Patrick's Cathedral when I'm in Manhattan and have some time to kill between meetings. I suppose I could shop at the number of retailers nearby, but instead I am drawn to that impressive house of worship. The question is, why?

I was raised in a Catholic household, one that required me to go through the motions, but I never did believe in the Church's rituals or teachings. Maybe in part it was because my mom had been a Methodist before she married my father. Being madly in love with him, she agreed to become a Catholic at his insistence. But as the years passed, even though she still loved my father, she was less comfortable with the decision she'd made when it came to her faith. I am sure it was more difficult for her when her children began asking prickly questions about the religion, questions that didn't have a satisfactory answer; she wanted to honor her husband's faith, so she tried to offer explanations that would sit well with my father, but it was obvious her heart remained elsewhere.

Maybe that is why when I was at an impressionable age, I began to search for spiritual answers and ended up in a fundamental-believing, Bible preaching church, something contrary to my upbringing. I had the opportunity to participate in a religion my mom could not and she enjoyed it when I shared my experiences with her. My father, on the other hand, was very angry with my decision. Several years later, though, after years of serious Bible study behind me and witnessing a congregation that liked to hide behind a belief that was judgmental and arrogant, I broke free. Even though I was just as sincere leaving that church as I was when I joined it, Mom was disappointed with my choice, but it certainly wasn't one I took lightly. After all, all those years being immersed in the fundamental beliefs, I was threatened that if one stopped believing, one would go to hell. That's serious stuff. Anyone who saw the Jeanne Tripplehorn character in Big Love going through a meltdown when she was told that she would be cast into outer darkness because she was a polygamist got a view of how I felt for quite some time before I realized that I had been a part of something based in fear. Fortunately, the more I came to terms with the contradictions and hypocrisies, the less real hell became.

Yet, why does religion rely so desperately on the fear factor? Why does it have to use threats of eternal damnation instead of showing real joy? In all fairness, sometimes religion uses heaven as an inducer, but it's not nearly as dramatic as fire and brimstone. In other words, it's easier to keep a tight rein on people when using frightening tactics. I tried to sort it all out by writing Of Little Faith, a novel inspired by my spiritual journey. And now, years later, without fear of hell or a desire for heaven, I find it comforting to be in the grand cathedral where the whispers of prayers echo all around me. If my mom were still alive I'm sure she'd wonder why. It's not as though I light candles or even pray while those around me may be there to cry out to their god while others are tourists simply admiring the amazing handiwork. Me, I just dwell in the stillness and, occasionally, relive one particular scene from my novel that actually takes place in St. Patrick's, but it's a scene that was inspired by authentic reasoning. The thing is, it's nice to no longer chase after angels or run away from demons, but simply appreciate the journey.

Comments

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

Carol,
I live in Los Angeles, but find my way to the cathedral, to Mary's chapel, whenever I am in NY. My father escaped his own Manhattan Irish Catholic upbringing, and so I was never indoctrinated. My grandma Mary was pretty devote, and so I go and light a candle for her. And then when my mom died 12 years ago, I started lighting one for the both of them.

Last July, I was in NY to spread my dad's ashes around the city. He had just died the month before, and the whole trip felt like a pilgrimage to the stations of his cross: The Question Mark- the place he and his gang would get loaded in; at the apartment he grew up in on 121st St; in front of the Bitter End club on Bleeker Street - the site of his earliest work as a comic; and finally Central Park.

When I went to St. Patrick's on the last day I was there, I now had three candles to light. After lighting one for Mary, and one for my mother Brenda, I touched the match to the third candle and the organ exploded with a crescendo. Every hair stood up on my body. I laughed and smiled. I do not believe in the man with the beard in the sky, but I do believe that we are all connected by energy. And on that day, I was connected to it all.

[huffnpuffn]

Keep asking questions and keep coming to church. I hope you find what you're looking for.

Welcome.

[mergina]

Uh, because all religions are greed fueled control mechanisms trying to keep you under their thumb for their own personal gain?

[JohnFromCensornati]

I never confronted my mother with my atheism. I just stopped going to church and gave up religious rituals. Years ago, when I told a woman at work that I was an unbeliever, she asked me, "What would your mother say?". I thought it was a bizarre question then and I still do. I don't know what she would have said, but I just don't know how one is expectly to believe what one does not believe (especially when they're selling an invisible product).

[Carol Hoenig - Huffpost Blogger]

It's true. Yet, many people are very uncomfortable with asking the questions some dare to ask; the answers or ambiguity frightens them. It's easier to put their faith in something and hope for the best. Let me be clear, though, I have no problem with people of faith. I admire them. The problem comes from when they become judge and jury for the rest of us. Compassion cures more sins than condemnation-- Henry Ward Beecher

[melmoid]

I grew up Mormon and late in life had myself excommunicated. Three men is suits came to the door to "serve" the papers basically absolving them of any blame for my decision since I was headed for the darkest reaches of Mormonism for all eternity for not believing what they told me. Later I converted to Catholicism (a huge mistake). When the Bishops started telling me how to vote, I sent my baptismal certificate back and started going to a small, liberal Protestant church. Unlike the Mormons the Priest and Bishop didn't know what to do with my letter and certificate. The liberal church didn't work out well either since I started having panic attacks. (The Protestant pastor used to tease me saying that I had a reservation in both Catholic hell and Mormon hell to which I replied that since one is hot and the other cold, I would just live on the middle latitude.) My psychologist was unable to help my theophobia. As it stands now I cannot go near any church without having a panic attack. At 67 I have put religion behind me forever. However as a scientist and poet, I do find a numinous impulse in nature. Religion for the most part is completely oblivious to it. I can recommend a new book by the scientist and lapsed Catholic Chet Raymo called When God is Gone Everything is Holy. You are not alone Carol.

[JohnFromCensornati]

I knew they were insane, but they served you papers?! Wow. So weird.
There is a presbyterian church 400 miles from here that still considers me a member because my parents forced me to "join". Some 30 years since they last saw me, they still count me for some reason, but they don't contact me. Even during the brainwashing years, I never really could swallow the magic tricks and contradictions and cruelty. I never looked for a replacement once I escaped.
Once again, I'm sorry they messed with you so badly.

[melmoid]

For many years they managed to track me down wherever I moved to come and "visit." But after I requested excommunication, I was surprised myself how formal it was. I don't know if they do the same thing today or not.

[Arithrianos]

Not all religions use fear, just the ones that are a surrogate for empire, the patriarchal religions. Also sittling in stillness and bearing witness to your own mind is the best prayer, at least from my perspective.

[Carol Hoenig - Huffpost Blogger]

Good point, Arithrianos. When I was going through my transition, I actually clung to the Bible verse, "Be still and know I am God." I at least managed to accomplish the first half of that verse...