March 13, 2018

I’ve found a new way to pray.   On Sunday, I skipped Mass. It’s only the second time in my life I’ve done so without a “good reason” (sickness, emergency). I woke up, and was angry—angry about all the things that were drilled into me all through my childhood and adolescence, which no longer make sense – things which I honestly don’t know if I believe anymore. Sin—what the fuck is sin? Why does God get offended and bent out… Read more

March 12, 2018

When I lived at home and had gotten my driver’s license, I signed up for a Holy Hour at a local chapel adjoining the church my family sometimes went to for daily Mass.  I was throwing myself at Jesus at the time and it was a great way to get some privacy to focus on him and beg him to answer me.  I filled pages and pages of my journal.  And I truly did feel a sort of peace there…. Read more

March 10, 2018

  The Gift of Language Barriers   We often think of differing languages as “barriers.” I remember, as a child, reading my children’s Bible storybook and scowling at the pretentious builders of the Tower of Babel. I was angry, not at their sin, but at the consequences thereof: that there are innumerable languages in the world, and this complicated my life with more difficulty and inconvenience.   But this week, as I worked with the students at my internship (I… Read more

March 7, 2018

I step inside a church for the first time in a month.   God and I have been estranged since the new year began. I was angry and he was giving me space.   But, finally, my longing for the Eucharist wins out, so I join my roommate on a pilgrimage to Reconciliation. How can a 12-minute drive feel longer than the Camino de Santiago? I wonder this as my roommate drives.   I hate waiting for Confession. I’ve had… Read more

March 6, 2018

Mass is hard for me. When I was a teenager, my father forced us to go to daily Mass for about two years. I know this doesn’t sound that bad, but when you couple this with his particular brand of religious domestic violence and my crippling scrupulosity, it was toxic. I would sit in the pew for a half hour, debating with myself whether or not I could receive communion. As soon as I’d convince myself I should receive, my… Read more

March 5, 2018

Oolo.   My name is Marie. You can call me Eloise, if you like. I’ll take Avers, and I’ll forgive Maria. However, if you call me Mary, you’ll promptly find yourself in a shallow grave missing your toenails.   Now that that’s out of the way:   Welcome to the world beyond the pale.   It is a place both wondrous and strange.   What on earth is she raving about now, you may ask. Let me explain. In Seamus… Read more

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