Guilt
This year, my parents and I will spend the Holy Week in Boracay. Yes, Boracay. I really ought to feel guilty now because all I can think of are the food, the parties and the booze when I should really be reflecting on my spirituality, which I must admit has waned in the last few years.
Its almost impossible to believe now but I used to be a religious kid who went to mass four times a week, prayed the rosary every night, read books about the lives of Catholic saints and toyed with the idea of becoming a nun. These days, I’d rather go to the mall on Sundays than spend an hour in church. The last time I prayed the rosary was six months ago and the entire time we were praying, all I could think of was how badly I wanted to get it over and done with. Churches and religious artifacts still fascinate me but it is purely for aesthetic reasons. And as for joining the convent? Well, the last time I entertained the thought was six years ago which, to me, seems like an eternity.
While I still believe in the idea that there is a god, I find myself drifting farther and farther away from my convent-bred childhood which taught me that belonging to a religion is a surefire way to salvation. This notion about the nature of religious affiliation has made me wary about organized religion and what they stand for. My parents are not conservative Catholics but religion is still very much a big part of their lives. The hypocrisy of going to mass on Sundays just to appease them makes me wrestle not just with my own Catholic guilt as well as my conscience. But at the end of the day, my spirituality is not dictated by which religious denomination I belong to or which church I go to but a personal relationship between me and my god.
Everynight, I still say the same prayer my parents taught me when I was a child. I still ask the lord to bless my mom, my dad, my aunt, the chickens, the lizard and the dogs. And this Lenten season, I will ask the Lord to bless and guide me in this journey of life that I go through every single day.
