On being Catholic

Today being Good Friday, I thought it was a perfect time to reflect on how exactly I got to this point in my life. I mean, having been raised Jewish, I hardly expected myself to ever embrace the suffering of Jesus. I mean, Jesus was just some guy. And honestly, for most of my teenage years, I couldn't stand most of his followers (though I suppose that was, in part, because many of them weren't actually following his teachings...).

Most of my friends were Catholic when I was growing up, and while I accepted that they were always running off to CCD or Mass and whatnot, I honestly did not think much about what they were doing there or what they believed. I didn't know what was up the the pope. But then it was sophomore year of college. It was the first Sunday of the school year, I was at a new school, and I had no idea what I was going to do with myself. Out of nowhere, the idea dawns on me to go to Mass. And although I couldn't tell you what the content of that Mass was, I was so taken with it, that I decided to investigate further. Something had spoken to me that evening. Christianity suddenly wasn't some lofty, ridiculous story, but instead was based on events that had personal relevance to me. I was reconciled with God because suddenly I realized that He actually did care about me. God not only existed, but was personally involved in the goings-on of the world. Including someone as insignificant as me.


The more I learned about God, the more I was amazed. I came to accept and embrace the Eucharist. There was the body and blood of Christ, this person who had died for the sins of the world. My first Communion was one of the coolest moments of my life. I still love going to Mass and experiencing the awesome power of God. But I see God everywhere now, too. Even in the bad days, the hard times. He's there. And that's what is so amazing.