Chanel Enow Generally Catholic
The priest ran in, a remarkably young-looking blonde man, tritely dressed in a gold and white vestment, apologising for being late and out of breath. He had biked over— twenty-five miles! The journey would probably have killed the old men who had delivered services for us in the past.
He began right away on the introductory rites and I took part in his mass instantaneously, as though at once unconsciously and diligently. When I was young, I didn’ t even know that you could leave religion. Faith, I believed, was the kind of thinking that stayed with you forever. Just like the sun shining in the day and dimming at night, it was a constant. And why wouldn’ t it be? Because where would you be without it? Light from the sun would erode and allow darkness to enclose and encroach, surely. Water would dry and parents would leave.
I wanted to ask the people I took communion with, who were now atheists.” Who are you now without it? How did all notions fall? Did heaven and hell split up, morality break apart? Do you believe yourself now above me, intellectually?” It was not like He had been kind to me- He hadn’ t- He had lulled me into a false sense of security and then it had been asking too much of me to look to Him to find a cause. So perhaps you think more critically. But do we have to? Isn’ t it all about having enough faith to accept the unknown. In the end, I decided it is better to believe, because I wouldn’ t know what to do with myself if I didn’ t. I think of asking the converted atheist if there is a word for someone like me?
Nietzsche has a word for someone entirely unlike me, and just before communion he starts singing.‘ Ubermensch’ remains a foreign term and my priest, today, all of a sudden starts singing.
‘‘ Let there be light”, he belts. I’ ve never heard it sung before. It’ s exhilarating. I can’ t help but laugh.
Every time I thought he surely wouldn’ t sing again, he did. I thought it was extraordinary to do so, so randomly and loudly and poorly. I found myself laughing and
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