A closet Catholic's lament
By Jennie Kushlis
I was deeply saddened to learn that the Roman Catholic Church has gotten so involved in the local debate on same-sex marriage. More accurately, I cringed with embarrassment that the only faith I’ve ever known for 25 years would come out looking so stodgy and archaic (undoubtedly, the same way my mom will cringe when she sees this post).
I’m what you’d call a closet Catholic. On the rare occasions I attend Mass, I am comforted by the familiar recitations, songs and persons in the pews. I feel like a child again, safe and carefree. I also take great comfort in knowing there’s someone out there, much larger than myself, watching over me.
But I can’t understand for the life of me how the church that gives me such a warm and fuzzy feeling is the same church whose stances on modern issues directly oppose the love and nonjudgment it preaches. And I’m appalled by the suggestion that the church would rather deny desperately needed social services than admit its hypocrisy.
As a nostalgic Catholic who admires love between two adults, no matter their sex, I beg church officials to stay out of debates that serve only to disgrace the church and its members. I’d really like to attend Mass this Christmas Eve, but the church is making it hard for me to stomach the idea of entering the building.
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