to know why I would think that getting liquor would make my friends like me.
I replied sincerely, “Well, that’s why you became friends with our family in the first place. I saw my parents buy you liquor and it worked. So I thought it would work for me.”
The sheepish look on Father Andrew’s face made me realize how dumb he felt. Children do learn from watching adults, and no doubt he was guilty himself.
We sat in silence for a minute, and then he said, “Looks like I need to be doing a penance rosary with you.” He knelt down next to me and recited the rosary with me.
I had so much respect for the fact that Father Andrew saw his own sins in my actions.
I wished all adults were like Father Andrew.
12
G OD : Thou Shalt Not Have Strange Gods Before Me.
J ENNY : I’m Cool with That But … Who Are You?
I was thirteen.
“What now, Jenny?” asked Sister Harris.
“I’m confused.”
“What else is new? What are you confused about now?”
“I’m confused about the First Commandment: ‘I am the Lord thy God. Thou shalt not have strange gods before Me.’ I don’t understand exactly what that means.”
“It means we should worship only God, no one else,” Sister Harris explained.
“Okay, define ‘worship.’”
“To praise and adore. You shouldn’t put a picture of an elephant on the wall and praise it as God.”
“What if God is an elephant?”
“God is not an elephant,” said Sister Harris.
“How do you know God is not an elephant?”
“Because I know.”
“But how?”
“Enough.”
These were the back-and-forth conversations I had with nuns at the school that my dad worked his balls off to afford. I quickly came to realize that nuns weren’t mentally equipped for my investigations, so my questions were not well received.
I was truly stumped by the First Commandment. I was stumped by this rule as to who God is. If the Catholic Church doesn’t know what God is, how can they tell me not to worship other gods? What if I accidentally bought the wrong snow globe with the wrong god inside it?
I raised my hand again with more question marks floating in my head. “Sister?”
“What?”
“Jesus always referred to God as a ‘He,’ so that’s why the Church believes it’s some sort of a male species, right?”
“Yes, Jenny.”
“Well, we refer to a boat as a ‘she.’ So maybe Jesus was calling God a ‘He’ like a gendered pronoun.”
“What is wrong with you?” said Sister Harris. “Why do you ask these questions?”
“Um, because we’re in religion class right now.”
“Why do you question your faith?”
“Because I’m trying to understand it.”
“But that’s where faith comes in,” Sister Harris said. “Trust that the things you don’t understand were already understood for you and have faith we are right.”
“Really? So believe everything you say and don’t question it?”
“Just have faith.”
I left school that day totally committed to God as a dude with a beard and a staff. I was going to have faith! I wasn’t a troublemaker. I was a truth seeker.
I was tired of the nuns dismissing me as if my inquisitive nature just brought piss and vinegar to their classrooms. The truth was that I just wanted to be more self-aware of my religion so I could continue being a good person and avoid accumulating unnecessary sins. It was in their best interest if they wanted me to remain holy as a subservient Catholic girl!
Now I’m fourteen years old.
I’m in my new high school. It’s the first day of school at Mother McAuley, a prestigious all-girls school taught by nuns, of course. I loved that school. I’m proud to have gone, but I suffered some major hard times there.
Many of the girls came from affluent families, but my family made the sacrifice to spend all of their hard-earned money on our education. When the other girls found out my family was struggling financially, they used it as a tool to belittle and torment me. It took me a long time to
I replied sincerely, “Well, that’s why you became friends with our family in the first place. I saw my parents buy you liquor and it worked. So I thought it would work for me.”
The sheepish look on Father Andrew’s face made me realize how dumb he felt. Children do learn from watching adults, and no doubt he was guilty himself.
We sat in silence for a minute, and then he said, “Looks like I need to be doing a penance rosary with you.” He knelt down next to me and recited the rosary with me.
I had so much respect for the fact that Father Andrew saw his own sins in my actions.
I wished all adults were like Father Andrew.
12
G OD : Thou Shalt Not Have Strange Gods Before Me.
J ENNY : I’m Cool with That But … Who Are You?
I was thirteen.
“What now, Jenny?” asked Sister Harris.
“I’m confused.”
“What else is new? What are you confused about now?”
“I’m confused about the First Commandment: ‘I am the Lord thy God. Thou shalt not have strange gods before Me.’ I don’t understand exactly what that means.”
“It means we should worship only God, no one else,” Sister Harris explained.
“Okay, define ‘worship.’”
“To praise and adore. You shouldn’t put a picture of an elephant on the wall and praise it as God.”
“What if God is an elephant?”
“God is not an elephant,” said Sister Harris.
“How do you know God is not an elephant?”
“Because I know.”
“But how?”
“Enough.”
These were the back-and-forth conversations I had with nuns at the school that my dad worked his balls off to afford. I quickly came to realize that nuns weren’t mentally equipped for my investigations, so my questions were not well received.
I was truly stumped by the First Commandment. I was stumped by this rule as to who God is. If the Catholic Church doesn’t know what God is, how can they tell me not to worship other gods? What if I accidentally bought the wrong snow globe with the wrong god inside it?
I raised my hand again with more question marks floating in my head. “Sister?”
“What?”
“Jesus always referred to God as a ‘He,’ so that’s why the Church believes it’s some sort of a male species, right?”
“Yes, Jenny.”
“Well, we refer to a boat as a ‘she.’ So maybe Jesus was calling God a ‘He’ like a gendered pronoun.”
“What is wrong with you?” said Sister Harris. “Why do you ask these questions?”
“Um, because we’re in religion class right now.”
“Why do you question your faith?”
“Because I’m trying to understand it.”
“But that’s where faith comes in,” Sister Harris said. “Trust that the things you don’t understand were already understood for you and have faith we are right.”
“Really? So believe everything you say and don’t question it?”
“Just have faith.”
I left school that day totally committed to God as a dude with a beard and a staff. I was going to have faith! I wasn’t a troublemaker. I was a truth seeker.
I was tired of the nuns dismissing me as if my inquisitive nature just brought piss and vinegar to their classrooms. The truth was that I just wanted to be more self-aware of my religion so I could continue being a good person and avoid accumulating unnecessary sins. It was in their best interest if they wanted me to remain holy as a subservient Catholic girl!
Now I’m fourteen years old.
I’m in my new high school. It’s the first day of school at Mother McAuley, a prestigious all-girls school taught by nuns, of course. I loved that school. I’m proud to have gone, but I suffered some major hard times there.
Many of the girls came from affluent families, but my family made the sacrifice to spend all of their hard-earned money on our education. When the other girls found out my family was struggling financially, they used it as a tool to belittle and torment me. It took me a long time to
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