Religion isn’t an acceptable topic of conversation at most dinner parties. It makes people uncomfortable. Especially white, upper middle class, graduate school educated people. And, most certainly my recent conversion to Catholicism was not only unexpected but, having picked an exceedingly unpopular religion by the standards of the above said group, it was somewhat outrageous. A couple of friends were aware of my enrollment in Catholic education studies, but everyone else wasn’t.
After a few bottles of wine, over dessert, someone in the know would blurt out (probably for shear sport), “So how’s your Catholic thing going?” I would mumble “Fine,” then quickly complement the hostess on dessert. And an ordinarily polite group of friends who wouldn’t dream of commenting on your weight, your boob implants or your obviously botoxed forehead immediately would go for the gut.
“What about those pedophile priests?” I don’t respond right away, drawing on my inner strength and steeling myself. “It has never been my practice to leave my son alone with any adult male non-relative, priest or otherwise.”
“Priests should be allowed to marry. That would fix everything.” I pick up my glass of wine, swirl its contents, lift it to the light then take a slow sip. “I think they would certainally have more priests if marriage was allowed.”
“How could you join a religion that treats women so badly?” I look down at my plate and mince what’s left of my pie into tiny crumbs before taking my last bite. “Catholics don’t treat women any worse than they are treated at General Motors.”
“What about the birth control. That must be a problem.” I slowly fold my napkin into a 1” square. “I’m 44. It’s really not a problem.”
“How can you belong to a group that has so many bad rules?” I unfold my napkin. “I have worked for large corporations my whole life. I am used to old institutions with bad rules that never change.”
“Why Catholic?” I fidget in my chair a little and gaze at a painting. “Because I was baptized Catholic, my father’s family is Catholic and my husband’s family is Catholic.”
“Why now after all these years?” Finally an easy question. “Because I have been worried about raising my kid in this day and age in the land of the rich and privileged without a moral compass.”
“Do you like it?” And the easiest question of all. “I like nearly everything about it. The history, the traditions, the ceremonies, the priests, the congregation, the buildings, and the services.”
“Just last month we went to a church and the speaker gave a great motivational speech. None of that Jesus God talk.” I take a long swig of water, smile and excuse myself to use the restroom. Of course, I had neglected to mention the part I like best. But no one really wants to hear that stuff.
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