One of my favorite statues inmy writing room.
Listening to: A Mexican siren.
Bliss: A clear head. Snow falling. Light not hurting my eyes. A crazy kitten doing her laps up and down, up and down the stairs. Having nothing to do today but write.
Today is the Feast Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe. For those of you who don't know, she was one of so many visitations of the Virgin Mary. You can read about it here.
Whether or not you find the story credible, I think there is a much larger point, so please bear with me.
As I've written about before, I was raised, really, within but also outside two separate churches: Catholic and Methodist. From the time I was quite small, maybe around 9 or 10 but definitely by the time I was 12, I knew I was Catholic. (This "knowing" though went through many years of skepticism and searching and, as you know, continues to this day.)
I had spent far more time in the Methodist church, because my sister and I would spend the weekend with that grandmother and then be taken to Sunday School and service.
Catholic mass was saved for the big days -- Christmas and Easter and sometimes just because.
The thing is, from the time I was rather small, I was sensing a huge difference between these two experiences, and for me, the difference had to do with the size and magnitude of God.
In the Catholic mass, I felt God was infinite, unknowable, capable of anything. When I was at grandma's church, I felt God was more equivalent to a nice, old neighbor -- kind and loving, perhaps, but not ever surprising.
Fast forward to me now, a reluctant Catholic yogi with pagan proclivities and a deep devotion to Mary.
For me, Mary, the saints, the giant Cathedrals, the miracles, all of it speak to something deep and yearning in my heart and soul: the idea that God, the Divine, really is limitless and infinitely capable.
And thus...so are we.
One of my favorite short stories is The Conversion of the Jews by Philip Roth (a Jew who got in a lot of trouble for this story). In the story, a boy wants one thing: he wants his Rabbi to admit that God could have, could have, created the Virgin birth. He is not asking anyone to say they believe. It escalates until the boy is on the roof of the school threatening to jump unless they admit only the possibility, and even in the face of the boy's death, this is nearly impossible for the crowd gathered beneath him. (I won't spoil it; you'll have to read it.)
This story reminds me of my grandma's church. A group of people who seemed more embarrassed by the idea of God's immensity than inspired to awe by it.
In my religious, spiritual life, in my story of God, I want big, I want ecstasy, I want the possibility of mystical experience, I want a God who can do anything...a virgin birth, an Immaculate Conception, floating Marys in the sky telling us that the only thing is love, and miracles that didn't just occur at one time in human history but are occurring around us everyday if we only had the eyes to see.
I wonder, otherwise, what is the point?
Because, obviously, religions are not strictly about morals. Even an atheist can have a very strong moral center. We are asking something else of religion.
Are we asking enough? Are we thinking and dreaming and hoping big enough? And if we aren't, do we really wonder why the planet, why humanity looks like it does?
5 comments:
Wow, thanks for another great post. It got me inspired and thinking! :)
This post is only one of the many synchronicities between you-- my friend and I. Last night, Hansel and I ate dinner listening to my beloved Lila Downs (the woman that makes me crave the spanish language with my whole soul)--while speaking about the different visitations of Mary. I had no idea that today was the Feast Day of Guadalupe even--all our discussion stemmed from the many odd sightings of her image happening in the Mexican neighborhood in Phoenix. The best one was a stain found on the street--where community members have barracaded trafic with a huge circle of candles and flowers around it! I love it!! Love-love-love it!!! Why not believe is what I say? Why not believe that Mary is speaking to us--even if it is only a stain on the pavement! Last night in our discussion I realized that when I think of Catholicism I think mostly of Mary. Since I was little--whenever I was frightened or worried--I asked for her to be with me. I had her statue next to my bed all growing up...and in my twenties I had almost a hundred statues of her on shelves in my bathroom--the time in my life I needed guidance the most!! I went to Catholic school for eight years and then after that, the only residue that has carried with me in my journey is my love and adoration for Mary. I too believe in the magical parts--the bigger impossible parts of Catholicism...and to me, Mary says it all.
Peace & Love.
I feel a huge magnet drawing me to Mary. I have taken pictures of different statues of Mary. I have heard people say they do not like the Catholic religion because they worship Mary. Something along the lines that you should worship no other images. I, myself, find Mary to be an inspiration. She was the mother and being a mother draws me towards her. I admire her steadfast love of her son. I understand that love and feel it towards my children everyday.
Fascinating all the references to Mary this week in the blogs I read! After a lifetime of ambivalence, I am coming to appreciate Mary and your blog post helps. [And I am an older --slightly unorthodox-- Catholic!]
I recall what happened, after 200 years of banishment, when missionary priests returned to Nagasaki, Japan. There had been no priests, no official expression of Christianity, in the meantime. A group of women approached the priests and asked if they were the ones who prayed to the woman (the exact message I'd have to look up). When the priests realized that they meant Mary, they understood that the faith had been transmitted underground for 200 years, without benefit of priests. Talk about the impossible and its expression in Mary!
I'm glad that people seem to really be "getting" this Mary stuff rather than being freaked out by it. She really is very powerful, just another version of Kwan Yin, holding onto our sorrows and giving us her strength!
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