Young Adult Catholics

I often find myself feeling baffled about my relationship with God, the hierarchical Church, the local church, and the intersection between all of these.  Sometimes I want to make these relationships simple and clear.  I want them to line up in a way that makes sense.  I want to put them in boxes with clear boundaries.  In an intellectual sense, I know I can’t do this–yet I still try.  Even though I can’t understand it, God keeps showing up in unlikely places and times in the midst of this ongoing tension in my life.

This past weekend I watched a friend finish a half marathon in wine country in northern California.  She runs for Team Challenge, an organization that raises money for research regarding Crohn’s disease and colitis.  It seemed like half the people in the race were sporting the same bright orange jersey as her and running for this cause–a cause that affects many of them personally.  As I watched people of all shapes and sizes cross the finish line, I was inspired and impressed by the intense sense of camaraderie and community that was so visible on their faces.

After the race, another close friend and I headed to Mass at a parish in this wealthy part of wine country.  I wasn’t expecting this to be the kind of Mass that does much for me.  I had enjoyed the race and was just trying to fulfill my normal Sunday routine of going to Mass.  I usually worship in a struggling part of West Oakland, at a place where, though there are plenty of problems, families know each other, the prayers of the faithful reflect the struggles of the community, and the food after Mass is a delicious mix of greasy pupusas, tamales, and hearty southern food.  Wine country isn’t where I feel most at home.  It’s not that there’s anything wrong with belonging to or visiting a predominantly wealthy parish–it’s just not usually the best worship environment for me.

I also wasn’t exactly in the mood for Mass this weekend.  It’s not like I can ignore that the Vatican just intentionally put sexual abuse and women’s ordination into the same document.  Nor can I ignore that, yet again, the Church is failing to live up to its potential in dealing with the abuse crisis.  When things like this happen (which seems to be quite often these days), I want to put my faith into one box, the hierarchical church in another, and the local church in yet another–mostly because I don’t know how to handle it all.  I don’t know what to do with the fact that while I was surprisingly moved during a fairly routine homily and inspired by a song I’ve heard a thousand times, I feel hurt and betrayed (for myself and others) by the hierarchy yet again.  By participating in the local church, I feel complicit in the structures and hurtful actions of the hierarchical church–yet Mass continues to be a place where my faith is deepened and I feel spiritually fed.  Mass is where I want to be when I feel unbalanced and out of whack.  My struggle here is that the hierarchical Church plays such a big role in putting me into that confused and torn place.

For now, I am living in the tension.  I often wonder, though, how long I can do that.  I can’t imagine actually leaving. . .but I can’t imagine living this precarious balance into the distant future either.