It’s been a long couple of days. I was up at 6:40 yesterday and today so I could get to daily Mass by 8:30 a.m. Obviously I don’t have any intention of ever going to bed at a decent hour, so by this time of night it’s tough to get up the energy to blog it out. But tonight was our first RCIA meeting since Easter, so obviously I have to talk about it while it’s all fresh in my mind.
RCIA, for those who care, is short for the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults. The three parishes in town have a joint RCIA program, so pretty much everyone in town who joined The Church this Easter (with the exception of those who went through RCIA at my alma mater) went through the process together. We had a pretty big group, what with the candidates/catechumens, all their sponsors, and everyone on the team. We met at my parish, even though we had the smallest number of representatives there: my small group leader; our pastor, Father N., who represented the other two pastors in town; and me. L.K. and her husband attend another parish, and my small group leader made her promise she wouldn’t steal me away.
I looked forward to RCIA all summer. I think T. did too, because he was probably sick of answering my incessant questions as I read and learned as much as I could ahead of time. During an RCIA meeting, we would usually listen to a lecture from the leader about whatever the evening’s subject was, and then after a short break we’d break up into small groups to discuss it. I loved going to class and meeting all the people on the team and all the people joining The Church. It’s amazing how different everyone is, how many different conversion stories there were, and yet how we all came together to join the universal church.
The classes themselves left a little to be desired sometimes. Everything was pretty basic, and I would have liked to discuss some things more in depth, but we had so many people coming from such varied backgrounds that we just couldn’t get into details within that time frame. I usually sat between L.K. and Father N., so when I got bored I split my time between playing with L.K.’s baby and getting into trouble with Father (for some reason the RCIA leader got flustered whenever the two of us contracted incurable cases of the giggles). It kept things lively.
A month or so ago, Father M. joined us for our session and took us to the church next door, where he gave a presentation on the Mass. He not only did a walk through, but he explained why everything happens, what it all means, where it all comes from. It. Was. Fantastic. Father M. teaches at the Catholic school, and he’s obviously good at what he does. Plus we could tell how enthusiastic he was about everything, so that made it all the more interesting. We got a quick tour of the sacristy as well, and he and Father N. answered any questions we had. It was my favorite class all year; I really wish he’d been allotted two classes so that he would have more time to go into detail.
With the exception of Father M.’s presentation, tonight’s class was the best RCIA meeting yet. Everyone who entered The Church was given the opportunity to share his or her Holy Week experiences. I couldn’t stop smiling all night as I listened to how excited everybody was and as I thought about how grateful I am to be a fully fledged Catholic. L.K., who joined The Church last Easter, shared her thoughts on watching me finally receive the sacraments. (She’s really the best sponsor anyone could ask for. I’ll have to dedicate an entire post to how great she’s been the last eight months.) Father N. even said how his favorite part was when the two of us who were received before confirmation made our profession of faith.
RCIA is fairly new to the Catholic Church. There are some staunch traditionalists who would say it’s not necessary, but it really is a great program. If not for these classes, even if I didn’t learn a single thing (which I did), I wouldn’t have been able to make so many new friends or get to know the people in my church. I’m very shy, and I wouldn’t feel nearly as comfortable in all these new situations without a few familiar faces.
Plus I’m now over my fear of priests. It sounds weird, I know, especially since T. and E. are seminarians and not at all frightening, so what’s the difference, you ask? Well I wasn’t afraid of priests when they were just being regular people, but as soon as they acted like priests (blessing a rosary, for instance, or providing information on an official Church matter), I was very apprehensive. Spending time with Father N. and Father M. has made me realize how silly that is. In the first place, they’re really very nice and not at all scary. And when they’re at their most official, they’re acting in persona Christi, and why should we be afraid of Jesus, who loves us? Even during confession, frightening as it is, the priest himself is, in my experience, wonderfully kind and patient.
But now I should possibly avoid nuns. I went to an evening Mass at L.K.’s parish last Tuesday, and this being Ohio, it was raining. I managed to back right into a nun in the parking lot (she was in her car, geez). I don’t know if it was the weather or the fact that she was in a teeny tiny vehicle, but I honestly couldn’t see her, and I really was looking. I couldn’t even see her car out my back window after I heard the thump. There was no damage, but I felt just awful. I mean come on! Three days Catholic, and I’m running over nuns in church parking lots. Catholicism: doing it wrong. And now I keep seeing her everywhere! I hope she doesn’t think ill of me. T. called it a nun-cident. Let’s hope for a dearth of them in the future.
