99 Bottles by Erin Lee

Author:Erin Lee [Lee, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781386123101
Amazon: B072F61LCP
Goodreads: 30266940
Publisher: Erin Lee
Published: 2017-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

78 Bottles: Sundays

“Manic Sundays.”

I hate Sundays. I’ve always hated Sundays. Every Sunday, my parents dragged us to church. More accurately, my mother dragged us to church. Despite our protests, she managed to get us there just before the ending of the Homily and right before communion. Mark hated it the most and liked to hit me all the way to the church. My revenge was pinching him. We never told on each other. Mark wasn’t a tattletale. The reason we were always late was because Dad could never get out of bed in time for the 10:30 a.m. or even noon masses. A night owl, he generally went to bed around 4:00 a.m. and waking up for church was never on the top of his priority list. Unfortunately, it was at the very top of hers. This caused weekly Sunday fights between my parents—a staple of my childhood. These fights served as bookends to our weeks and made Robbie and I physically sick with worry.

It was ironic, really. Despite his inability to get to mass on time, Dad was the one who said the rosaries and taught us about the magic in a novena. Mom, on the other hand, was more skeptical and would often confess her doubts about organized religion to me when he wasn’t paying attention. I always felt good that I could be open with her about my own doubts. My father’s devotion to the church, the Catholic church, was always a bit off-putting to me. While I admired his dedication, I didn’t understand why he was so rigid in his belief that the Catholic faith was the “only faith.” “What then,” I asked, “about all the good people who happen to be Jewish or who don’t believe in God at all? How could a just God send them to Hell for not believing in him?” I never got a firm answer to that. I’m not sure Dad believed anyone who wasn’t Catholic was capable of being a good person.

I was confirmed at the age of fourteen. I was told that this was my decision and only my decision. I was told a lot of lies as a child. Like the pleaser I was, I took the confirmation name Ann—after the Virgin Mary’s mother. The whole ritual was nothing but a forced exercise in submission for me, because I didn’t feel I had a choice. I knew that not being confirmed would break my father’s heart. I could never do that to him. So, my sophomore year of high school was the year I marched up to the altar, looked at a stranger bishop and reaffirmed my commitment to the Catholic faith. Honor thy mother and father, Lisa. Another lie. Probably another reason I can’t face God.

As I’ve grown older, my religious beliefs have evolved. I now consider myself much more spiritual than I once was. However, I don’t like defining myself as anything other than Christian. I have several issues with the Catholic church. For starters,

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.