"See You in Church"

When we go out to eat, we often sit at the bar. The service can be more more personable and the conversation engaging depending on who you're sitting next to.

I'm not sure how it happened, but we got into a discussion a few weeks ago with someone about Irish Catholic guilt.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the malady, Irish Catholic guilt is the fear of eternal damnation, or even worse, disappointing your Mother, if you fail to behave the way you're supposed to.

The symptoms are various, but one cause of Irish Catholic guilt is not going to church every weekend and having your Mother find out. As a result, those afflicted will sometimes drag themselves to Mass years after they've left home, just in case this could be the week Mom will ask how church was. And you don't want to lie.

For those of us old enough, not eating fish every Friday or not fasting during Lent -- or at least giving up candy -- can still occasionally bring on the guilts, even though the rules are nowhere near as strict as they used to be.

It can also be as simple as not doing "the right thing." However you happen to define it --  in your Irish guilt way of looking at the world.

As actor Edward Burns describes it: "I suffer from Irish-Catholic guilt. Guilt is a good reality check. It keeps that 'do what makes you happy thing' in check."

In the interest of full disclosure, I'm a fairly regular church goer. (Even though officially I'm not exactly made to feel welcome. But, that's a story for another day.) Part of the reason I still attend is that I've been fortunate over the years to be a part of some wonderful parishes staffed by priests, who I connected with. In some cases, we became friendly. Plus there's that thing about not wanting to disappoint my Mother. Even though she's been gone for more than a year, she'll still know!

We raised our daughter Catholic and now our granddaughter is coming to Mass with me and will be making her First Communion next year.

Looking back, the biggest thing I realize about growing up Catholic in the Brighton section of Boston was how segregated we were. Our lives and that of our parents revolved around the church. We belonged to Our Lady of the Presentation Parish in Brighton. The next parish, St. Columbkille's, was about a mile away. But, it was practically sacrilege to go to Mass at St. Col's.

We went to Our Lady of the Presentation Grammar School and attended the 9:00am Children's Mass on Sunday morning, while our parents worshiped in the basement church. We sat with our classes and the nuns who taught us. If we weren't there, our parents were pretty much required to send a note on Monday morning explaining where we were.

Upon grammar school graduation, most of the girls continued on to Presentation Academy, while the boys went off to BC High, Catholic Memorial, and other exam schools. Very few attended the much closer Brighton High School or the co-ed St. Columbkille's High. I honestly think attending St. Col's would have been seen as very disloyal.

For our parents, the church was their "country club," in the words of our bar mate.

There was The Mothers Guild,  Sodality, Catholic Daughters, the men's bowling league, and the Knight of Columbus with their weekly meetings and monthly socials.  Even Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts were an extension of the church.

When I was young I don't think I had a friend, who attended public school.  From who I remember, most of my parents' friends were also connected to our church or at least Catholic. They had some non-Catholic friends, too, particularly people my Dad met at work.

It was a different time. It was safe and secure. We all pretty much believed the same things and participated in the same activities. All the cliches about getting on your bike on a summer morning and not coming home until the street lights came on are true. Generally speaking, everybody's Mom was home, so you could always get lunch and supper somewhere. Parents kept tabs on each others kids and if you misbehaved during the day, your folks knew about it before you got home.

What our culture is missing today is that sense of community church provided for so many people. Our isolation from those"different" from us was a product of the times. Fortunately, most of us moved beyond our limited view of the world as we got summer jobs, went to college and met people with different backgrounds and experiences.

We find community today in smaller groups that sometimes can be just as isolated like Pop Warner football, Saturday morning soccer, youth hockey; after-school programs, and golf leagues. We work too much and when home, stick to ourselves. I think it's safe to say that many people don't know most of their neighbors, even if they have lived near or even next to them for years. When I was growing up, you would at least see them in church. People went to Mass at the same time and usually sat in the same pews.

Today, the church is not the all  encompassing and uniting force that it once was. In the case of my faith, the sex abuse crisis and the exclusionary or archaic attitudes towards women and the LBGQT community have become stumbling blocks for participation.

Sadly, the words "see you in church," just don't mean what they used to.