With Lent in full swing and another whitewashed Biblical movie having just hit theaters, let’s talk about Catholic guilt, shall we? For those unfamiliar, “Catholic guilt” is an overwhelming sense of shame experienced by both practicing and lapsed Catholics alike. This shame tends to come from actions and thoughts contradictory to the Catholic faith an individual was raised in. Whether you still practice the faith or not, Catholic guilt seems to always worm its way into the back of your mind. Somehow, you know your mother is somewhere clutching a rosary, and like St. Monica with her son St. Augustine, is desperately praying for her child to embrace the faith. But come on, Catholicism can’t just be about shame and disappointment, right?
Although Catholicism is the world’s largest Christian denomination, that doesn’t automatically make its members the most devout. In fact, the term “Chreaster” has arisen from the on-again-off-again relationship many Catholics have with their faith. In case you’re not Catholic or weren’t raised in the faith (and for some reason are still reading this), “Chreasters” are Catholics who only attend Mass on the two holiest days of the year: Christmas and Easter. The problem is that Sunday Mass is considered obligatory, due to the Third Commandment: “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.” (Exodus 20:8 NIV). Although missing Mass isn’t considered automatic grounds for eternal damnation, you know the big man upstairs is looking down and shaking His head in disapproval.
As you can probably guess, I was raised Catholic. I also attended Catholic schools and even considered becoming a priest at several points in my life. It would be easy to cry “indoctrination” but that would simply be untrue and immature. My parents brought me up in the best way they thought possible, which included the religious faith they practiced. Now growing up Catholic, at least in my experience, isn’t just about getting your weekly stale wafer and sip of Jesus juice at Sunday Mass. No, it’s a 24/7 experience. The idea of having a meal before saying grace is unthinkable, and if you’re ever dealing with something, one of your first thoughts will to be look up and pray to the patron saint of that particular issue. Also, your first and/or your middle name are most likely from saints. And finally, your life is periodically marked by the Sacraments you’ve completed, as you might remember your First Communion party better than some of your actual birthday parties. My point is, that for many of us raised in the faith, being a Catholic was/still is a full-time commitment, which makes it all the more harder to leave behind.
One source of Catholic guilt for those who have left the faith is the sense that you have abandoned the very foundation of your upbringing. In many ways, your home parish is like your extended family, with many fellow parishioners having seen you grow up and experienced things alongside you. And while there are many jokes about Catholic priests, I’ve personally found that the priests at my home parish and the Jesuits at my high school are some of the wisest and most compassionate people I’ve ever met.
Another prominent source of Catholic guilt is the dereliction of your obligations as a Catholic. You can’t remember the last time you went to confession, but know that you’ve done some things that would require more than a few Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s to forgive. Or, you’ve flip-flopped on issues that the Catholic Church holds most dear. I personally went from being a homophobe and someone who silently protested at an abortion clinic to someone who thinks the government shouldn’t be able to tell people who they can marry or what they can do with their bodies. But am I a better person for this? I have no idea. While I’d like to consider myself more open-minded than before, I also feel like a damn hypocrite for ditching moral stances I had supported my entire life. But to end on a happier note, here is a lovely song by satirical genius Tom Lehrer that’s much catchier than any hymn you may have remembered from Mass.
