I'm not exactly sure where to go from my last post. I shared a little bit of my history in regards to my love of all things Arab.You know a little now about where and when I started to learn about what Islam really was. So maybe I should explain my history with my own religious upbringing before I get too far into talking about Islam. So here goes...
I know I was baptized at St. John's Catholic Church on 16th and Ajo in Tucson Arizona when I was a very tiny baby. My Nina (Godmother) had made my dress, I still have it today...so tiny and white and satiny and lacey with a little white bonnet. I remember going to church when I was little, but when I was 8 we moved to Indonesia and there was no church where we lived. None. But my Mom had married a Southern Baptist (who I don't think is or was ever religious) and we were Catholic so church sort of faded out for me and my Mom anyway. So for a couple of years I had no religious training or church, or anything that touched on religion. Islam was a part of my daily life, but I didn't really know it. It felt more cultural to me, like it was the way of the place I lived and not the way of a group of people who subscribed to the same religious philosophy.
When we moved back to the US, my Mom immediately put me into CCD (Catechism) and I had to go through my First Holy Communion ( I was kind of old to be doing it but since we weren't here...) as soon as possible. My Mom took me to church most Sundays. She didn't ever really talk to me about religion. When she did she definitely had more the philosophy of a Wiccan than a Catholic. I never quite knew what to think about my mother and religion. The only thing that seemed accurately Catholic about her was the fact that she was your Catholic Schoolgirl Bad Girl ( GO MOM!!!). She went to Catholic school through 8th grade and was always in trouble for her skirt being too short, or some other awful offense. She talked back, she rolled eyes, she was a brat. But as an adult, and a mother, she was free spirit...still is. She says she is a catholic but she believes in much deeper, kinder philosophies than that of the Catholic Church. She is at odds with most of it's policies, has mostly always been and probably always will be. In fact, As I got older and grew familiar with the rituals of my church, I realized that though my Mom came to church and participated, she did not take communion. Not once ever in my life have I seen her take communion. I asked her about this once and she told me that since she had me out of wedlock and had committed a mortal sin, she was banned from taking communion until she confessed and was forgiven for her great sin. She then told me that she would NEVER apologize, much less seek anyone's damned forgiveness for having me. She said the church could kiss her ass. She would never take communion again gladly. That moment made me love her even more than I already did. My strong, tough, rebellious and righteous mother. And even though they did this too her, I really grew to love my church. The more I went, the more I fell in love with the sounds, the rituals, the prayers, the smell of the incense and the comfort of the known process, and the talk about Jesus (pbuh). I loved to hear about Jesus( pbuh) There was quite awhile in my life when I thought I wanted to be a nun. But I wanted kids and a family...I couldn't be a nun. But I did love my religion and my church with a passion. Then one day, my Mom said she was done. She said she had done her job, taken me to church and raised me as a Catholic, and now if I wanted to go to church I could, but she was done.
I went myself sometimes, not as often as with her. I tried to study my religion on my own and I started to get a little confused. The older I got, the more I started to think about things like Exactly why DID Jesus (pbuh) die for our sins? HOW exactly does that tie in? How is it that that worked? When I asked in class...I was kind of just blown off after awhile, and sometimes I could tell my questions were getting frustrating so I would stop asking things. but I could really not ever reconcile (still can't) how that made sense. I had a hard time with Jesus (pbuh) being the literal son of God and God Himself. this was perhaps my biggest problem to make sense of. I felt in my heart that Jesus (pbuh) was sent by God, he did have a message, he was special and important and deserves respect but I have always, always, always sensed that God was just one. One entity, all-powerful, all-knowing, omnipotent and singular. I also started to get confused about worshiping only God, yet praying to other Saints and asking for things through Jesus (pbuh) and getting forgiven by a man in a robe for my sins. It didn't seem to fit. I couldn't make it make sense to me. But I still went to church. Reed ( for those of you that know him) used to go with me. We planned on having a large Catholic Family if ya can believe it! At the time my faith was so strong, it was easy to overlook my questions and problems and chalk it up to archaic ritual and old school values. My love of Jesus (pbuh) and my love of God was more important than "little" details.
As I got older still, and had been jaded by life experiences (Reed's suicide), I began to step back a little and examine my religion. My loss of faith in the church was definitely helped along by a professor of mine...Fred Bustamante. He was amazing, and very scary to a religious and gullible little Catholic girl who has always believed what the church has told her. His class was the beginning of the end...but it would take years for the clutches of the Catholic church to loosen their grip on me. He began by talking about the Bible...the various translations..certain words that may or may not have been translated correctly or have 5 very different meanings that could potentially change the whole sentence. The translations back and forth again, the Hebrew words that don't translate at all...the many versions and edits and things that have been taken out and added. I was shocked. I was young and didn't really know anything but his stuff was powerful. He then moved on through the politics of the church, the beginnings of the papacy and the will of the church to rule all of Europe etc etc. I had no choice but to step back and look at things. Examine what I had been told, and believed, but then look at what new ideas and evidence I had been presented. I was disturbed...but still I thought that for the most part...the church must be right.
After my semester with Bustamante, things in my life started directing me to where I am now. My love of Jesus (pbuh) started to lead me to my discovery of the events in Palestine...and the crushing things taking place against my beloved Arab people (still Islam had not entered my mind when I thought of Arabs and the Middle East) and so that issue became rooted deep in my heart. I somehow thought there was truth (and I still believe this) out there somewhere...Palestine, Jordan, Syria, Iraq...there is more truth out there. And since I knew my church confused me, but Jesus (pbuh) didn't, I thought if I could follow him, where he lived, preached, walked, sat, breathed and died...I could maybe find that truth...or at least find my own truth and contribute to the wonder of others. So I chose religion as a major.Which leads me now to my first class on Islam, but I am so tired I am going to have to stop here for tonight. I'm so glad tomorrow is Saturday!!! This is the second day of fasting for Ramadan and it really isn't too bad. I feel good and happy, even if I am alone. It's kinda nice to hear the quiet. Anyway...until tomorrow....Goodnight world. XOXO
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