Easter was good–the kids had a great time at Uncle Keith and Aunt Cheryl’s. The funniest part of the day for me was church service. I go to a Methodist church now, but I was brought up Catholic. I’m slowly getting used to the Methodist faith, but it’s painfully apparent to me how Catholic I’ve been. Heck, when I moved out here west of Philly, I couldn’t figure out for the longest time where all the Catholic churches went (I’d thought it was the overwhelmingly dominant religion nationwide). At service, I constantly have to stop myself from answering things that seem vaguely familiar in a Catholic way. For instance, I keep biting my tongue at times to keep from saying “and also with you.” I keep saying the Apostle’s Creed slightly wrong. I wanted to sing the Hosannas today instead of speaking them. Friends are astounded that I don’t know the most basic hymns here. Stuff like that. It’s actually made me miss Mass a bit from time to time.
But today they did Communion. And I felt like I was “back home” again. I knew things by heart I gave the responses without having to follow along. People actually went up to the front of the church for Communion (they drank from the little cups still and went up row by row, but it was still familiar). But then at the end they launched into an “Our Father” that completely threw me, a short version with “trials” and other foreign stuff, and I was back into unfamiliar territory. I like the church, I like the community, I believe in the faith. I like the option of going to the traditional or contemporary service, too (the most contemporary thing about my old Catholic church was a guitar playing “Day by Day” at Mass). It’s just humorous to me that Methodists can’t seem to choose a single “Our Father” or a single Apostle’s Creed (and it’s funny how they have to footnote the word “catholic” and explain that it means “universal”). I guess part of me will always feel like a broken Catholic. I’ll get used to it as time goes by, though. Now if only I can stop calling the two pastors “priests.”