Why I'm not Catholic

It's hard to call myself Catholic, at least as it's understood in the treacherous, deceitful, dark, and perverted way it is being viewed, and in so many ways proven to be, in the US right now.

Even if it weren't riotingly painful for me to discuss the sex abuse scandals, there are so many infuriating discussions right now that warrant otherwise. Needless to say, one of them is the virtual civil war dividing cardinals, bishops, priests, and lay people alike in declaring the issue to be latent homosexuality, instead of sick, pedopheliac perversions as they actually are (or just plain ol' hetero perversions that we're all far too familiar with). And blaming any and all popes, especially Pope Francis, in a terribly obvious ploy for power and attention.

Amidst these discussions are the random shouts of declaration that "These terribly treacherous things are not why I'M Catholic!"

Maybe I'm just embittered (if I'm honest, there's no maybe about it) but these declarations feel more and more like a trite way of either covering up what horrors we, Catholics, now must carry, or of making themselves feel better in a panic and desperation they (for the most part) didn't create and cannot mend.

But, I digress. I intended this post to be about me and my own identity in the Church, not about questioning the identity of others. Oh well.

Even before these scandals surfaced, I had to reevaluate the reasons why I was staying Catholic, when I had personally endured so many valid reasons to leave.

The more time that passed, and the further we as a Church waded into the sesspool of our recent history, I started making lists of why I'm not Catholic:

I'm not Catholic for the hell my family put through when I discerned religious life in high school.

I'm not Catholic for the declarations that having suicidal thoughts undeniably means you don't have an actual relationship with Christ.

I'm not Catholic for the outright glares I get from old women when I arrive early at Mass and sit in their pew (which apparently had an invisible insignia marking their place).

I'm not Catholic for obnoxious gawks at my various tattoos when I happen to wear a shirt with sleeves short enough to show them.

I'm not Catholic for the, "Here is the absolutely non-negotiable lists of good things for you to do to not be one of those evil people of the world," homilies that recycle every single cliche used to condemn anything not militantly "Catholic".

I'm not Catholic for the judgmental/pitying staring at me for attending Mass alone.

I'm not Catholic for the blithe way political ends (cue the horrific treatment of Dr. Ford and all other rape survivors in the past week) are masked as "God's way" and "actual Justice as God wants it" while condemning half the population because of their victimhood.

I'm not Catholic for the ignorance of even the most learned theologians and scholars, both ordained and laypeople, in the basic tenant of Christ's teaching, mainly that of loving all people, whether or not you agree with them or understand them.

So, why am I Catholic?

I have asked myself this question incessantly, its bitter and melancholic chorus ringing in my head and constricting my heart every time I pull into the parking lot on Sunday.

But then I walk into the sanctuary, and find again the most vulnerable of deities, hiding in the most vulnerable form, waiting in nonjudgmental, wholesome, warming, covering love that doesn't need words to bring solace, companionship, and understanding.

I am Catholic for Him--not for any cold, cruel, unrelenting principles that gut the soul of relationships and love.

So I'll stay here, and cry with Him, and hold Him close, and wait for the turning.