Ben Hur (1957), Spartacus (1960), YMCA logo, Boy’s Camp
My Real Memoir: My Life as a Not-Really
We weren’t “Nones,” to use the modern term for people who claim no religious affiliation. We were “Not Reallys.” For my parents’ generation, having a religion meant you were a law-abiding citizen who paid your bills and cried at weddings (or at least had the decency to wipe your eyes). So Mom was a Catholic-but-Not-Really, and Dad was an Episcopalian-but-Not-Really. For me, Christmas was about getting presents and tasty treats. Easter was about hunting for Easter eggs and eating tasty treats. And Sundays were about sleeping in and eating tasty treats. (Have I mentioned I liked to eat?)
True, some people went to a place called “Church” on Sundays. Ladies wore pillbox hats, and dressed their daughters like dolls. Men wore ties, and dressed their sons like little businessmen. But I got to stay in my jammies and eat pancakes.
Until one weekend, I slept over at my cousins’ house, and Aunt Tavia woke us up early Sunday morning. She fed us burnt pancakes and gave each of us a dime, then drove us to Church and dropped us off. I had no idea what was going on, but my cousins did. They made me put my dime on a passing plate. Not fair! I thought it was my payment for going to Church! Then we stood up, sat down, and knelt a lot, while some guy in a long robe talked in a foreign language. Finally, everyone got a dry little cracker as a party favor. What kind of tasty treat was that?
Later that year, Ben Hur came out. I liked the chariot race, but wasn’t sure why the Romans crucified a good guy named Jesus. Was it because he didn’t attend the chariot race? And the following year, I saw a movie called Spartacus. I loved it, but was confused when they crucified Spartacus instead of Jesus. Was Jesus a gladiator? Were they the same person?
Confused, I asked Dad what he believed. He handed me his Time-Life illustrated edition of Darwin’s On the Origin of Species and said, “This.”
When school let out that year, I attended a YMCA summer camp for little kids right there in a nearby suburb. It was a “pretend-you’re-in-the-mountains” experience with hikes and crafts. And there was a big campfire the final night, after which we got to sleep under the stars! We sang “John Jingleheimer Schmidt” and “Do Your Ears Hang Low,” and did silly skits.
My favorite skit featured a man (boy) being dunked in the water over and over again, and each time being asked, “Do you believe?” The last time he’s asked, “What do you believe?” and he replies, “I believe you’re trying to drown me!” I laughed, even though I had no idea what a baptism was.
Still, our camp leaders’ allusions to faith got me wondering who God was and what he wanted. So, the next day I asked Mom what she believed. She gave me her childhood Catholic Sunday missal (which disappointingly had nothing to do with rocket ships) and said, “I don’t exactly know, honey, but here.” It made no sense to me, but featured a kids’ prayer with the words “If I should die before I wake…” Hmm. As a safeguard, I tried saying it at bedtime for two weeks. But there was no theme music or special effects, so I quit. True, I never once died before I waked.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t done being a Not-Really.
Pois é. Eu me tornei esse não-realmente.
Eu acredito no amor, na compaixão, na solidariedade, em nossa ÚNICA obrigação nessa vida sobre a superfície da terra e que existem bênçãos universais, abundantes, permanentes e para todos.
Receba as bênçãos universais.
“Universal blessings” indeed, Gustavo (“For God so loved the world…”). But not everyone willingly receives those blessings.
É preciso saber receber e, sobretudo, saber agradecer por as ter recebido, ficando obrigado a compartilhar, retribuir, dividir.
Abraço grande e fraterno.
I came up from the start through Sunday School, Church of England and a Church of England Primary school. All a gentle experience compared with the Roman Catholics on one side or the strict non-conformists on the other. So I was secure and oblivious to harsher realities of life and the rest of the world. But I can certainly imagine how strange it would have seemed to you.
Catholic mass was still presented in Latin back then (Vatican II changed that a few years later). And of course, it was full of traditional practices and symbols which I knew nothing about. So, yes, it was no more familiar to me than a Chinese Buddhist dharma assembly.
Thanks for sharing your walk down memory lane. I like your humorous, honest approach. So often, I can still relate to the children around me and pray they will question, like you- what is truth amidst all the messages—and never give up on seeing God’s image in themselves.
Amen, Teresa. 🧡
Direkt nach dem 2.Weltkrieg war mein Vater “civilian driver” in der US Army und irgend jemand verschenkte ein kleines, gesangbuchartiges Büchlein. Es war die kath. Liturgie in lateinisch/deutsch. Aus Mangel an anderer Literatur (da war ja alles in Schutt und Asche geblieben) beschäftigte ich mich als Kind also damit und war dann auch ein paar Jahre später, Latein für Liturgie auswendig gelernt;, Messdiener (zu der Zeit gab es, zumindest in unserer Pfarrei, noch keine Missbräuche seitens der Würdenträger). Auch wenn ich mit 18 aus der Kirche austrat – der katholische Alte Glaube ist vielleicht doch nicht das Schlechteste – aber es gibt ja noch andere Weltreligionen. Den Berg Moses habe ich -zig Jahre später tatsächlich selber “erklommen” und im Catherinen Kloster letztendlich genauso viel Glaube “gesehen”, wie als Touri in der Mohammed- Ali -Moschee in Kairo. “Der da Oben, wenn´s ihn denn gibt” hat viele Namen – respektieren sollte man sie alle. Und nur dann verliert ei deutsches Sprichwort seine Lächerlichkeit: “Wer glaubt wird selig” – und das wollen doch alle..
What a rich set of experiences you’ve had, my friend (may I ask your name?). Yes, “he who believes will be saved” is a phrase echoed throughout the New Testament.
Best regards, Juergen 😊
Best regards! Juergen
LOL You are so funny! I went to the Catholic church with my family and went to catechism too. I didn’t understand any of it. I wasn’t paying attention because it thought it was boring too. My parents never talked about Jesus either and I wish they would have because maybe then I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes when I was younger.
Even so, we all have to find our own way in time, don’t we? My wife came from a faith-filled family, but she and each of her siblings had to find a faith of their own. “God has no grandchildren.”
Very true.
Fortunately, you eventually found your way to God’s Holy Word and a deep faith that you share so graciously. 🙂
Bless you, dear Nancy.
I grew up with a dad who chose to believe nothing and a Ma who was as Christian as one could get. Made for interesting weekends.. but dad always deferred to the missus.
I appreciated this share, Mitch.
Thanks, Nigel.
You’re welcome, Mitch.
both of my parents were ‘go to church on holidays’ catholics and when i was 7 i decided that i would not be catholic when i had the chance to make my own choice. i remember it very clearly. love your memories and childhood perspectives on all of this
Love your childhood memories, told with such heart and humour. Inspires me to do the same (well, one day). Thanks for sharing and the reading pleasure.
What would we have done without Ben Hur? It meant a lot to me, also!
Sometimes I hear religious talk was used so very differently than originally intended.
You put it so nicely humorously here, very likeable, nice read.
Your bent toward finding truth started early, Mitch!