Theres no shortage of things in this world to disparage my faith. Worldwide abuse scandals and former nazi popes aside, we catholics get a lot of grief at times, not all of it undeserved.
That being said, I was never more proud to be catholic as this past Easter. Oddly enough, I was by myself too. I decided to go to Mass in Staz's hometown in Eastern Kentucky. Home of 1 Catholic church and 40 Baptist ones. I went by myself, since no one in Staz's family, let alone Staz herself, is Catholic. Immediately, it was all familiar though: the rituals, the chants, the sacraments. It made me very comfortable. But what really struck me was the people arrayed in the church. In this little eastern Kentucky town, seated geographically in the middle of the country but culturally more in the south, the only Catholic church was home to a vast variety of Asians, African Americans, Indians, Koreans, Chinese, and of course the ubiquitous white guys. But it still made me proud to part of such an all-inclusive faith.
As if that wasn't the topper, the priest himself was African-American, only he was REALLY African, with a thick Swahili accent. And yet, despite the obvious culture shock, he gave one of the best Easter sermons I'd ever heard. Some of it is still with me, such wise words they were to live by. I left feeling very much loved and at peace.
There are so many reasons to doubt one's faith, it was really nice to see the good in it for a change. And for that, I am grateful.