Catechumen no more

It has been just over two years since I decided to join the Catholic church. I attended RCIA studied and attended RCIA classes. I attended Mass and joined in the service at my church. I took my initiation further and, last year, read the entire bible and catechism. I read through the entire bible again this year along with my Dad. I have done little other reading than prayer books. All this time, I have been studying and thinking and living my life as a Catholic.

Now, as I concluded the second round of bible readings, I feel like I have finally completed my studies. I actually was not aware that I had not completed anything. I have been in full communion since Easter Vigil, 2012. But I reflect that in the early days of the church, catechumens often underwent a period of two or more years before being accepted into the church.

Well, perhaps, because I have focused on this aspect of my life so intently, I now am capable of knowing that I belong. This belonging resides first and foremost in being confident in the Lord as my model. And I am confident in what I must do. And that is to love God as I am loved and to love and serve my neighbors as God commands me to do. 

Pretty simple, right? But confidence means that I trust myself to do the right thing. I don't merely preach it or criticize others. I don't need to, and I don't want to. Part of this belonging depends, I think, on having set certain priorities straight, including getting back to volunteer work for the homeless. Besides what I might do for myself and my own relationship with God, there is no greater need or call, in my mind, than attending to the needs of others.

Again, pretty simple. But it has been a lot of work to get to the point where one's heart can confidently, knowingly, reside in these activities, without anxiety, or second-guessing.

In short, I have no particular ambitions, except to live wisely, kindly, and well, and to do good. However or in whatever ways my weaknesses lead me astray, I know what lies at the center of my life. That, in itself, appears to me as a kind of living testimony to the named and the unnamed, the perfect and the fluid.