Visiting

Look who showed up at our house the other day!

It turns out that this image of Jesus travels around to different houses from now until Easter, when they parade around town with him.  My family was really excited to have him.  At night, we lit candles, had neighbors over, said a rosary of Our Fathers and Hail Marys, read Bible verses, and sang hymns.

All of this was almost as foreign to me as any traditional dance or ceremony I’ve seen in Peru.  Pass an egg over someone’s body to diagnose illness?  Ok.  Repeat a prayer in front of a plastic statue in a beanie?  Sure.  I’m supposed to come from a Christian tradition, but that night didn’t have any deeper meaning for me.  My family was intense about it and even asked if the image could swing by again before Easter.  I didn’t find a connection.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out on something important.  Religion was largely nonexistent in my childhood.  I’ve done some casual investigations into different faiths as I’ve grown up, but nothing has hooked me.  I was really into my religion classes at Villanova and wish I could have taken more, but nothing called me to believe. 

I don’t reject the idea of God, I just don’t know what it means.  I understand the appeal of prayer and chanting.  I get into that repetitive zone sometimes while running or backpacking.  The most I’ve felt God has been when I’ve been in awe of nature or unexpected kindness.  I remember thinking that there must me a God when I was studying biology and was floored by the complexity of life. 

When my family was praying, I felt disconnected and pretty bored after a while.  There are a lot of beads on a rosary and the hymns seemed tuneless.  Part of me wishes that wasn’t the case, though it seems likely that it just wasn’t my style.  I wish I had a clearer idea of the path to a religion or spirituality that would work for me.  I suppose I’ll just have to be open and I’ll find it if it’s for me.