Never Really Catholic

Photo by James Coleman on Unsplash

My biological mother was raised Catholic. She chose a Catholic adoption agency when she was pregnant. On the paperwork she stated she would prefer her baby go to a Catholic family.

Growing up I attended a Catholic school until 4th grade, then I switched to public school. I completed first communion in second grade. By the time I was in middle school or early high school I was questioning the practice of Catholicism.

Why couldn’t women be priests?

I’m not supposed to believe in birth control? I do not want to have countless babies; at the moment I’m not planning on having even one baby.

Why do I have to talk to a priest to talk to God, isn’t there a direct line from me to him?

I certainly do not believe I am actually drinking blood and eating flesh during communion because a priest said some magic words over the bread and wine.

By the time of confirmation in my sophomore year of high school, I wanted out. I did not believe in the teachings or the practices. When I tried to communicate this with my adoptive parents, they told me, “Your birth mother only had one request of us, to raise you Catholic.”

What? There was a request? Biological mothers could make requests?

Being raised Catholic was more important to her than my going to college?

So, I went through the motions of confirmation with no intention of continuing to be Catholic.

When I decided to pursue the search of my biological mother and received my records, there was no list of requests or even the space on the paperwork suggesting a list. It was just a box. “Do you prefer a Catholic family or a non-Catholic family?” I was so relieved. She had not deemed being Catholic more important than anything else, she had simply checked a box. How her preference of a Catholic family was communicated to my adoptive mother is unclear, but how it was communicated to me felt like manipulation.

My husband was raised in a Catholic family. When we met, he was not practicing Catholicism, so neither of us had a home church. I cannot remember when we started to “shop” for churches, but when it was time to get married, we found ourselves meeting with a Catholic priest at my husband’s family’s church. It was not what I really wanted; I had proposed an outdoor wedding in his parent’s yard. But this church had a small chapel, which would be fine. I was still deep in the fog, going along with things. I had gone through the motions for Catholicism before. As long as I knew where I stood personally, the only thing that really mattered was the groom.

At the end of our first meeting, the priest asked where I worked. I answered,  “Planned Parenthood.”

He hit his fist on the arm of the chair and said, “get a different job, right now.” I laughed and we left, not thinking he was serious.

To be married in the church we had to attend a weekend retreat for premarital counseling. A Jesuit priest facilitated the weekend.

At our next meeting with the priest who was supposed to marry us, he asked how my job search was going. I looked at him stunned, “you were serious?” He very much was. I refused to leave my job for a practice I did not believe in. The priest told us he would not marry us in the church, but if we could find someone else to marry us then we could still go ahead.

We decided to approach the Jesuit priest we met at the retreat. Jesuits seem to be a little more liberal. Not wanting to go over the first priest’s head, he had to ask the Bishop first. At our last meeting, the Jesuit priest informed us the Bishop had said no, we were not allowed to be married in the church unless I found a different job. I told the Jesuit priest to let the Bishop know I would see him in heaven (if it even exists), and we left.

We were livid, but it would ultimately work out for the best. Planned Parenthood had a clergy board that met on a regular basis, ministers and faith leaders in the community who supported our work. I called a minister from one of the churches to explain the situation. He said he would be honored to marry us in his church and was available on the day we had already set.

Finally, I thought I was free of the Catholic church.

When our children were born, we wanted them to go to private school. The only problem was most of the private schools in our community were Catholic. Luckily there was a Montessori school that went through third grade. I volunteered and fundraised to expand the school to sixth grade. Now the kids were set until middle school, then we could figure out the rest, maybe homeschool.

As my son started his third-grade year we quickly realized Montesorri was not a healthy environment for him. We moved him overnight at Thanksgiving to a new school. A Catholic one. It was frustrating to be in a small community without other options. Based on our previous experience and wanting the kids at the same school, we moved our daughter to the Catholic school for first grade. We were at a Catholic school for 8 years and I worked very hard at home to talk about why we do not believe the specific practices of the church. I hope they came out with a strong moral compass and an open mind.

My son then chose to go to a Lasallian High School, which is not exactly Catholic, but close enough. The environment was not a good fit for him. His sophomore year he chose to switch to a public high school. This was his high school career and choice, but I had no idea the relief I would feel when he was no longer attending a religious school. It was a freedom I was not expecting.

Had my biological mother been able to keep me, I would have been raised Catholic. It is the only “thing” I can see as being the “same” experience as my adoptive family. Knowing my mind and spirit, I cannot imagine I would have behaved any differently in my biological family as I did in my adoptive family. Being Catholic, the one “thing” that connected me to both, was something I could not, nor wanted to be. Maybe this was a trait from my protestant biological father? All my life I have felt the oppression of the church. I have fought against it, even if it was just internally. I forged my own path in religious practices, and I will see that bishop in heaven, if he is allowed in.

My journey in denouncing Catholicism has also led to exploring and questioning other denominations. After further exploration and finally being free of religious schools for my children, I find all religion oppressive.

A lot of adoptions are facilitated by religious organizations. Religion layers guilt on top of the trauma of relinquishment. Religion comes with pressure and standards to live up to. As an adoptee I felt societies pressures to be happy and grateful and I felt the fragility of my adoptive parents. Add to this the pressure of pleasing “God” and the commandment “honor thy father and mother” and my entire existence hinged on following the rules, being good. I could not speak my truth because it would hurt my adoptive parents thereby breaking that commandment, sending me to hell.

Religion is oppressive – used to keep women from excelling and used as a threat that if you are not good you will be condemned for all eternity. Religion played a huge part in my not living my truth – afraid to speak it for fear of being damned to hell or that somehow on this earth I would be punished.

But what about those who kept me from living my truth? Does stuffing my authentic self down to please the rest of the world earn me a place in “heaven”? I should hope that is not pleasing to a God either. Do those of us who suffer the most get a VIP ticket into the pearly gates?

And that begs the question, does a God, heaven or hell even exist? If there is an omnipresent being, they know the full truth of all our situations. I would hope they extend compassion for birth mothers and adoptees – knowing our heartache, pain and our sole intention to live authentically. If we can ever figure what that means for ourselves. And I cannot accept the idea that God wanted me to be removed from my mother, to be raised by strangers and have lifelong trauma.

The freedom from religion I have found on this journey runs parallel to the freedom I found once estranged from my adoptive family. Feeling trapped by both led to the further tamping down of my authentic self.

Now that I have come to the surface of this knowledge and freedom, I cannot go back in.