Unnecessary Thoughts of a High School Student

My Religion or My Faith

By simply understanding that I am a first generation Filipino-American immigrant, one can immediately decipher my basic human template. That is, if you are knowledgeable enough to care about common stereotypes surrounding that initial statement, then it should be quite easy to draw conclusions about my attributes.

One: I am most likely residing in Southern California or in the western side of Nevada. The third most spoken language within these states is Tagalog, the second being Spanish.

Two: Not only that, we live on the poorer sides of town. Well, maybe not poverty-stricken, more lower-middle class, but we make due to scrape by on relatively unsafe streets compared to those, let's say, in the valleys. This is because economy in the Philippines was not well, isn't well, at the time and those families who can migrate must be reasonably wealthy, like my father, or have a traveling job, like my mother's. People from that country spend most of their fortune to come to America which is why we ended up here, and move up. As such, we are acquainted with a similar batch of individuals, Latin-Americans.

And finally, the most important, three: I am Catholic.

There are probably more traits one can draw about me, from what I eat to how I talk to how my level of education and my standard of environment relate to my subsequent career choice that usually culminates into becoming some form of nurse, like my brother. All are components of my identity—factors that contribute to me.

But they are not religion. Because religion is a facet marked on the outline of humanity. Even the atheists or the agnostics. It's beliefs, and what we do with them.

I am Catholic, as I've said, my entire family is. However, I am a fraud. I am what I consider an Obligated Catholic.

Yes, there is a picture of Jesus Christ hung next to the photo of my one-year-old sister dressed in a pretty pink dress. Underneath is a lovely depiction of the Virgin Mary praying, the utter epitome of sainthood. A crucifix is slung over the mirror of my car. I have Hallelujah and Amazing Grace saved on my playlist, of which I genuinely adore, and I attend Church when appropriate.

Yet, being apart of a religion has nothing to do with practices, and everything to do with your faith. It matters not if you attend Church daily, or if you pray at dinner, or if you wear a cross around your neck and over your heart. What matters is the absolute intent behind the actions, the unselfish connection to God present in your veins.

And when I descend onto my knees. When I don purity white, and I close my eyes as we all fall into prayer, there is nothing in me that inspires that vessel of faith to flow. As I pray, my mind is blank and I am superficial. When I attend Church, my attention to the sermon is minimal, drawn only to the artwork praising the walls. I do not attend because I love God, but because my parents have told me to respect God. Honestly, I believe they are like me too. Attending because that is what they know. They attend Church because they do not want to go to Hell, not because they believe in a Heaven. They are afraid. They attend Church because that is how it has always been, and they don't attempt to question it, nor change it. Because to be Filipino is to be Catholic.

Why am I Catholic? Because my family is Catholic. That is an Obligated Catholic, and I didn't come to that result on my own, nor did I try to.Family shape your beliefs because they are who raised you. The reason I am not more devout is because they didn't try to further instill that in me other than taking me to Church, not because I lacked faith to begin with. The reason you are more devout than me is because your environment inspired you more than mine.

That is nurture in nature versus nurture. We aren't born with religion, we are taught it.

In truth, the connection to God is a concept I've actively pursued several times in my short lifetime.

The first was when I was in second grade. Everyone in my class was enrolled in Sunday school, at least that's how it seemed to me whose world was so small. I asked my friend, Ashley, to lecture me on the teachings of God during recess. We were spinning in circles as she informed me on the adventures of Sunday school. She said I could join, but I'd have to start from first grade. Instantly, I didn't want to go anymore.

My intentions were inherently selfish: I wanted to attend not because I was curious about God, but because I wanted to be a part of a whole. When I couldn't be with my friends, my connection was rejected. I am inherently selfish. I do not have room in my selfish heart for God.

The second try was during fifth grade, or maybe a little younger. As my grandfather was a devout Catholic, he kept all the standard sacred symbols of a typical Christian within his possession. Because I loved to read, I laid before the bookcase and read the Bible up until the story of Noah. My mistake is that I was too young. I was unable to appreciate the magnitude embedded in the words. Because I loved to draw, I drew Jesus Christ. I sat in front of his framed picture propped proudly on the glass table and diligently captured his gentle demeanor. I was complimented by my grandfather, but I felt nothing but guilt. Why?

My intentions were wholly superficial: I did not explore these subjects because I wanted to understood what they meant in my religion, or because I wanted to respect them. I wanted it to indulge my own personal interests, to further my knowledge of them. I am wholly superficial. God can not receive the respect deserved in a superficial soul such as mine.

It was during this period of self-discovery that I reached consciousness in my own lacking faith. I made one final, desperate leap during middle school to revive it, during my brief glorification of Amazing Grace. I attended Church, shocking my mother as my attendance has dwindled over the years, and when it failed to capture my attention, soon I gave up on actively participating.

Do I not believe in God? No, I do, in fact, believe in God, but it's more like I believe in a God. Is it necessarily my God? Can I say my God? Possibly, but I do believe there is an otherworldly deity, some form of power which has resided before us, before time, before space. I believe there is a place we go after we die. Not particularly Heaven or Hell, it could be purgatory or we could reincarnate, but I do believe in a beginning after the end. I believe in many things. Jesus Christ died for our sins. I don't believe in many things. Adam and Eve.

I have not attended Church in months, and I do not like to say that because then a nagging feeling enraptures my throat, guilting me.

"You are neglecting God. You are neglecting God," I can hear it chant to me.

There are times when I want to walk out of my house and go to Church and just pray. One of such times is right now as I write this. I am about to cry as I write this, because knowing you lack faith and facing the articulate truth written down before you is completely different. I feel as though I am letting down my family to be living this fraud, and I want to pray badly. After this I may sob in my covers and ask for the forgiveness of God and Jesus Christ for not being better.

But I will still maintain my lack of attendance, because it is not only because I lack faith and that I am lazy. Because I am ashamed. If I can not give God my utmost respect, then why insult God's name by attending a sermon I will not listen to. By hearing lessons I can not put my trust in. Every time I attend, I feel as though I'm committing sin. That is another reason I do not attend Church, because it is an insult to other Catholics and to God to don the appearance of a Christian while not withholding the same faith. That is insulting.

In spite of all that, I will continue to identify as a Catholic, and I will continue to do so with a skeptical heart. Because I do not identify with anything else, nor do I know how to. Because I am not an atheist or agnostic, because I still believe in God. Because I don't know what else to call it. Because it is a part of me, even if I can't immerse myself in its legacy. I can still indulge in its language. In its language.

Because religion is a guideline which dictates how you act, and every religion has a common denominator: to be good. And I can live with that.