(#1 in a possibly never-ending series of gripes percolating in Lola’s head about the flaws in organised religion with specific reference to the happy-joy-joy Catholic faith)
For me, the hardest part about a consistent faith is the perpetual suspension of disbelief. More difficult to do than in believing that Romeo & Juliet managed to cram all that love and drama into three days, or thinking that Sven Goran Eriksson must be a real laugh over drinks in the evening.
As a youngster being dragged up through the Catholic faith I always rather suspected I had the wrong kind of mind for it all: my default position is to ask awkward questions, poke holes in arguments and generally be a nuisance. It should come as no surprise that the first word I ever uttered was ‘why?’.
Well, with these Catholics if it’s not one thing, it’s another. Jesus rose from the dead; hold your questions. Mary was assumed into heaven because she’s too special to croak it like the other mere mortals; hand down please Miss Smith. This bit of tasteless wafer the size of a two pence piece is in fact just a wee chunk of flesh magicked out of the air from someone who apparently died a couple of thousand years ago; nobody is asking you, dear.
But what really gets my proverbial goat (nothing gets my actual goat, ‘Scheese) is the stinginess of this enforced credulity. You have to take all their proscribed custom and practice at face value, and woe betide you should bat so much as an eyelid. But should your poor six-year-old self haplessly enquire if your two cats are coming to heaven with you should you peg it, your wilful naiveté is mocked with a force not generally seen outwith hurricane season. Not only will your pets not be waiting for you in heaven, they don’t even get a separate pet heaven. You tight theologian bastards! How dare you separate me from my beloved kitty? Better that than being stuck in eternity with a bunch of do-gooders that make me want to vomit.
I suppose the point is moot: if these same people are right about kitty heaven then they’ll most likely be right about homosexuals and the distinct lack of God’s favour in our direction. I choose not to believe that personally, but when I go I want a bag of catnip treats in my hand, just in case I’m right after all. Won’t that just be one in the eye for those who ‘know better’?