... links

Julie's blog
TeeJei's blog
Yeba!blog

Peyups.
FictionPress.
FanFiction.

my uncrucified Christ

I'm a non-practicing Roman Catholic. I rarely go to mass now, I rarely pray the rosary, I almost never join processions, much more merely drop by the church, the nearest of which is just a few blocks away from where my boarding house now stands. I've been skipping Youth For Christ meetings, being based in QC now and all.

By devout Catholic standards, I'm an almost atheist. In fact, this university I'm going to right now, it's quite notorious for the amount of atheists it has produced all over the years. UP graduates have been classified roughly to two - those that graduate atheists, and those that go underground, graduates or not.

So basically, it's rather normal for somebody like me to be either of the two. Though I believe I'm more likely to be the former.

People find it amusing probably, to find a cross hanging by my neck. I chose the crucifix carefully - it's an uncrucified Christ. His arms are not nailed to the cross, which is unlike most crucifixes, where Christ is depicted as somebody who's nearly dying, suffering gravely, and, well… sad.

But the Christ who's hanging around my neck right now is not crucified. His hands are not nailed to the cross. His arms are stretched out, wide open. He's alive. The Christ around my neck is alive.

I say I have my own religion. One that does not persecute those who do not attend mass, or pray the rosary before going to sleep. I believe in God, I believe in Jesus, I respect Mother Mary. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in private prayers. I believe in the mental conversations I have with God before I go to sleep.

I don't believe I have to attend processions, or hurt myself during Holy Week, or attend prayer meetings on a regular basis just for the sake of making other people believe I do believe there is a God.

I don't believe in being a stiff devout Catholic if only to be rightly called a bonafide member of the Church.

I don't believe I have to be pure, I don't believe I have to be without vice, I don't believe I have to be… perfect.

My religion is an imperfect one, I guess. It dwells on my imperfections, my shortcomings as a person, as a daughter, as a sister, as a niece, as a friend.

People might think it's quite blasphemous. Or perhaps disillusioned. Some people might even think, hell religions like this don't exist, that they shouldn't, even. That there's only one, the Roman Catholic church. People are so inclined to believe the things they just want to believe in.

Same goes for me. I believe in my uncrucified Christ. He's alive, and I believe in him. I believe he's there, I believe he wouldn't forsake me just because I am who I am, and I do what I do.

And I'm not forcing this on other people, you know? I believe he has a heart to forgive. I believe he's waiting for me, patiently, to figure out what I want to do with my life finally.

Then and only then, I think, can I offer everything else up to him completely.

But I try, believe me I do, to lift up to him whatever I have going, whatever I have now… but I'm too weak to give everything else absolutely up. Just not yet ready.

I don't go to mass. And I don't go to confession just to repeat over and over again the sins I'm sure I'd commit right after getting out of the penitent's box anyway. Yes, my flesh is weak.

At least I admit to that.