Auto Da Fe

Without my noticing, Spring arrived officially yesterday morning. I've been grousing about the seasons long enough now, and winter finally ended with little fanfare.

Of course, it's not the seasons that really affect me. All of the things that were bothering me yesterday haven't gone away today just because of a little cosmic slide.

I've never been a very faithful person, but suddenly this year I have found myself in a position of believing in something, and being called upon to have faith in it. I continue to struggle to maintain my faith, even without much encouragement or justification from the object(s) of that faith for continuing to do so.

I'm beginning to understand being Catholic, though my faith and need for that faith is not strictly along traditional religious lines.

I understand now that Catholics are waiting for the return of Jesus, who will come again to judge the living and the dead. Until this weekend (thanks to my current crisis of faith and the second season of the Irish sitcom "Father Ted") I didn't understand that Catholics, like lovers, are the ones who wait. We martyr ourselves to the promise of things that will likely never come to pass. We spend so much time looking ahead for the pending miracle that we could miss the actual in the every day.

I realize now why "aqui y ahora" is so difficult for me to fully grasp. It's the opposite of what I have ever known, ever been taught, or ever socialized into. It makes me feel a little bit better on the one hand. However, I am also more Catholic, more nun-like, more ascetic than I think I ever have been, in all aspects of my life right now. I want something I cannot have yet, and I have to have faith that someday I will have it, and I have to try to not destroy it while I wait.

But waiting for the miracle is precisely why I think I left my Catholic roots as a teenager. It was all so rarefied and arcane, so out of touch with what was my here and now at that time. More than anything, I'm terrible at waiting, I hate waiting, and I constantly fear that the line between blind faith and glaring stupidity is ever-blurring.

However, I get it. This is a lesson that for 26 years now I've fought against having to learn. I have waited, have been waiting, and I continue to wait. What choice do I have? Faith compels me to wait. Though it seemed like winter would never end, it did end after all. The days are still cold and will be, but it's on the run now. And who knows, maybe my ship will come in and the wait will actually end favorably. . . and hopefully before Jesus decides to return for his encore.