I don’t know if I’d call this a typical writer’s block, rather an overabundance of ideas. I’ve had too many deaths in the family over the last three months…three grandmothers and an aunt. I would love to write about my relationships with these family members, particularly how it pertains to spirituality, as this past Thursday at my Nonna’s wake I was given a mandatory confession by a priest no older than 25 who insisted I was going to hell for all the things I believe make me a wonderful human being.
This priest and I share many of the same practices and values i.e. love, recognizing the energies in nature, providing guidance to others, accepting faults, but because I do not perform them according to his code I was not worthy of being a part of my grandmother’s procession. He also said that my sister, who was married by a Catholic priest but not inside a church, was not legitimately married and was also going to hell. He told my mother that she was not legitimately married because she wed my father after her first husband died, etc.
All this damning and cursing while my family grieved my departed grandmother who had suffered almost two decades of Alzheimer’s and dementia (again, something worth writing about, especially regarding my current fieldwork in Elder Care). And then this priest is going to make them feel even worse about themselves? NO. Being told I am not a good person for my religious practices, when the altar he builds also uses incense, bells, a chalice, elementals, chants, and a call to a diety, seems so laughable. When I mentioned Pope Francis opening the church to the LGBTQ community, the guy actually said “Well, yeah, he just means it’s okay for same sex love, as long as you don’t act on it in a carnal way.” Like, WAT? I can’t. I just can’t.
My Nonna’s (we called her Nonnie) side of the family is Italian Roman Catholic, but they aren’t conservative, nor are they all “fire and brimstone” like this priest was. They are open-minded people, funny, loving, flexible, and were very respectful of my decision to stop receiving communion during my teenage years. The Catholic religion to my family is just that: family. It’s food, it’s tradition, it’s holidays and gift-giving and hugs and dirty jokes and nostalgia. It’s not telling people they are going to hell or what they can and cannot be. I still can’t believe that fucking priest. I am livid and yet I know I should practice some ounce of forgiveness because it’s what he couldn’t do, despite that being the crux of his whole religion. It just bugs the hell out of me, that I’m living in this day and age, during a period of my life where so many people I love are dying and everything has been so shaky, and someone traditionally considered a “pillar of society” has the gall to cut me down when he sees me at my worst. How is that considered love?