Catholicism in the City
by Angela Bilog
I shouldn’t have been surprised that my views on Catholicism would be shaken this year when I decided to move to the liberal atmosphere of New York City from Glendale, California. My faith was fostered by seven years of Catholic school education, which I embraced wholeheartedly—from leading retreats, morning prayers, and being a lector and Eucharistic minister during the Mass. Outside of school, I spent time in personal prayer and went to mass every Sunday. My faith assured me that I was practicing what I preached. Or was I practicing what others were preaching?
Perhaps what I thought was my own firm practice in Catholicism was actually forced by the conservative setting of my high school. There was no way to forget you were attending a Catholic school. We were required to attend mass every Wednesday at 7:30 A.M. and to pray before each class, which changed ever hour. My experience at an all-girls Catholic school wouldn’t be complete without my eccentric religion teacher. I admired her for her vast knowledge of Catholicism and the personal insights she gave us—sometimes. She was my teacher during my freshman and senior years of high school. I noted that every year, despite the age and intellectual differences, her lessons would somehow lead her to comment on today’s “corrupt teenage society.” She would tell us “Don’t get ‘preggy.’ I heard this about once a month. Though my class and I found it pretty absurd and funny altogether, I was malleable enough to be left a little intimidated. On a more annoying note, however, I wanted to pull my hair out when a friend wasn’t allowed to use her photograph of a skull on the cover of her portfolio of sonnets. It was deemed “too morbid” and “inappropriate for a Catholic school” by our principal. This was the same principal who a few months later wouldn’t allow another friend to write an argumentative essay on the topic of supporting gay marriages.
Nevertheless, during my first month of college without a requirement to take religion classes, my faith remained somewhat strong. Still, it was shaken. My writing class analyzed the debate on abortion which was nothing new to me until someone claimed that belief that life begins at conception is “just ridiculous.” To her, it was a casual remark. However, her remark contrasted greatly with the abstinence lectures and abortion videos I watched in high school. Just when I thought I had a strong grasp on my faith, I was even more challenged when one of my professors deduced that Jesus’ offering of his body and blood was cannibalism. I spent an entire year preparing twenty 3rd grade students for their first communion last year. Did that mean I was breeding cannibals?
Just a few days ago, this same professor claimed that he found it creepy that the crucifix is such an important symbol for Christians. “It’s like America using the electric chair as a symbol of pride,” he said. I began to consider whether the sympathy and piety I felt every time I saw a cross in my room and around my neck was nothing but a symbol of torture this entire time.
It’s interesting that this same professor is the reason why I am currently reading Confessions by St. Augustine. In it Augustine writes, “If he was a good angel who became a devil because of his own wicked will, how did he come to possess the wicked will which made him a devil, when the Creator, who is entirely good, made him a good angel and nothing else?”
I still have questions about my faith left unanswered and doubts that confuse me, but I’ve found that others have the same reservations that I do. I have to remember that I’ve only been in this city for two months and have yet to allow such liberalist views to challenge let alone eliminate my faith.
In the mean time, I still plan to set my alarm clock at 10:00 A.M. for every Sunday morning to go to church.
