Wow…three posts in one day. Well, truth is I am lounging around on this Memorial Day weekend (at least it is in America) with some flare-up pain and swelling related to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome: Type I so what else was I going to do? Binge watch Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip? It lasted only one season so that wouldn’t be long.
So we all know I volunteer at a Catholic hospital and I am an ex-Catholic who converted to Baptist. Last week, my dad and I were turning into the drive that goes up the the main part of my hospital when he said to me, “You know for someone who hates Catholics, you sure like volunteering here.” Yeah, Dad…sure but guess what? I don’t hate all Catholics.
Truth is with an estimated 1.2 billion people in the world identifying as Roman Catholic, you are bound to have at least one or two who you deal with often. They could be family, friends, co-workers, customers, or anyone else really. If you are reading this on mass transit, the man or woman next to you could just as well be a Roman Catholic. If you are in a waiting room, you could be sitting next to one. If you are…okay, we get the point! They are everywhere.
So yes, I did rant a lot earlier on in this blog about the Roman Catholics but truth is I was blowing off steam. I was angry and truth is I told that to the few Roman Catholic readers who called me out on it so to the rest, I apologize.
To answer my dad’s sarcastic question (we both have a lot of sarcasm), I don’t hate all Catholics. In fact, truth is there are a lot of them at my hospital and they all know that I left in 2014 and converted to Baptist a year and a half later and guess what: They don’t care. I receive services as a patient at that same hospital and under religion in my patient registration, it says Baptist and I know no one is holding that against me. In fact, my first ER visit after I converted, I said to the lady from patient registration who took my info, “Can you change the part under religion to where it says Baptist because I just converted three months ago.” She looked at me, said “That’s okay” and wrote it on the paper to enter in the computer when she got back to her workstation.
There are even priests and nuns there who know and you would think they’d have an issue but nope. They only care if I believe in Jesus.
Dad had it wrong. I don’t hate Catholics as a whole. I just hate the ones that are obnoxious, judgemental, sorority like, and just plain hypocritical. In other words, I hate Catholic Daughters of the Americas which is not the Catholic church but a stupid organization that is AFFILIATED with them by way of their membership is all Catholic. I didn’t see Pope Francis singing their praises or declaring them a part of the Vatican so they are not the Catholic church.
This is called discernment and it’s something I find myself doing a lot. Truth is saying that you hate all Catholics when you only hate a very miniscule fraction of them (remember that 1.2 billion figure?) is like saying you hate all Baptists when in reality you only hate the Westboro Baptist Church.
And considering worldwide there are about 43 million people who identify as Baptist, and about 40 or so members of Westboro, they make up a pretty small percentage of Baptists in this world as well.
So to the Catholics reading this who are just your average every day types that go to work, eat, sleep, and go to Mass on Sundays and maybe just help man a Bingo or serve communion, we’re cool. I like you guys. It’s your counterparts that make up the close to 80,000 members of Catholic Daughters of the Americas that I can’t stand and the reason is this: Their kind of devotion and their rules really do cloud the beauty of your faith, just like how the hatred and ignorance of Westboro clouds my Baptist faith.
It is also why I didn’t tell my dad who is a man that was raised Roman Catholic and around members of Catholic Daughters (three of his aunts were members) that for a man who has said that Baptists are crazy and a bunch of “Holy rollers,” he sure loves it when my mom & I bring leftovers from the latest potluck home. It’s because I exercised discernment.
Sometimes “Father Knows Best” is not true. Sorry, Dad, but you got this all wrong. I love you anyway.
And in the words of John Green, don’t forget to be awesome.