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Summary

The author, a Catholic mother, grapples with the challenges of raising her sons within the Catholic faith, observing a dichotomy where men often exhibit extremes in religious engagement, either excessively or apathetically, and reflects on the broader societal implications of these religious dynamics.

Abstract

The author discusses her personal experience as a Catholic woman, raising sons who vehemently oppose Catholicism and church attendance, despite her commitment to her faith. She notes a general trend among men, including family members and public figures, who either reject religion entirely or embrace it with extreme fervor. The article explores her struggle to find a balanced religious engagement for her sons, amidst a declining church membership and an increasingly conservative religious leadership. She wishes for her sons to appreciate the values of Jesus Christ without succumbing to the fanatical aspects of religion. The author also shares her appreciation for certain aspects of Catholicism, such as the focus on Mary, the saints, and Jesus' teachings, while rejecting the Church's current emphasis on evangelization and maintaining a "one true Church" stance. She questions the gender gap in religious engagement, citing research on the topic, and ultimately expresses her desire for a more nuanced approach to faith in a world that often lacks it.

Opinions

  • The author is content with her Catholic faith but is concerned about the extreme positions men often take regarding religion, either being overly zealous or completely disinterested.
  • She is philosophical about the likelihood that her sons will abandon the Catholic faith once they leave home, despite her efforts to raise them in the Church.
  • The author is critical of the Catholic Church's current focus on evangelization and its portrayal as the "one true Church," preferring instead the inclusive and compassionate teachings of Jesus.
  • She is inspired by Catholic figures who have worked for social justice, such as Dorothy Day and Daniel Berrigan.
  • The author believes that religious extremism, particularly among men in leadership positions, is contributing to the decline in church membership and the alienation of more moderate believers.
  • She is skeptical of the explanations provided for the gender gap in religion, suggesting that the reasons behind this disparity remain largely unknown.
  • The author expresses a desire for her sons to embrace a form of spirituality that aligns with the teachings of Jesus, emphasizing human value and forgiveness, while avoiding religious fanaticism.
  • She laments the lack of nuance in contemporary religious practice and the world at large, advocating for a more balanced and thoughtful approach to faith.

How Boys Interact With Religion

It always seems to be either too much or not enough

Photo by Rodolfo Clix: https://www.pexels.com/photo/silhouette-image-of-person-praying-1615776/

I am Catholic, and I like being Catholic.

That said, I am well aware that the Catholic Church has problems. Many, many problems. This is not an article about those problems (although maybe it is, indirectly).

This article is about watching my husband and my sons, my brothers and brothers-in-law, and any number of other boys (parish priests, well-known religious figures like Joel Osteen, etc.) who interact, in a way I can observe, with religion.

This article is about how I wish all men could find a more “Goldilocks” (just the right amount) position when it comes to religion, rather than always seeming to be “way too much” or “way too little.”

This is on my mind a lot lately because I have two school-aged sons who hate Catholicism, religion, and church services with a red-hot passion that they usually only reserve for literacy assignments. Because we are Catholic (my husband grew up Methodist and has not converted to Catholicism, although he does accompany us to mass), we go to church every week.

Every Sunday morning is a battle of wills with the boys digging in their heels and me threatening to take away various privileges until they just get in the car so we can attend our hour-long service. For each hour of church we attend, we spend at least three hours during the week fighting about it.

As with many aspects of our children’s personalities, this is a bit confusing to me and my husband. We both came from loving but decidedly authoritarian households, and neither my spouse nor I ever really talked back to our parents, much less pitched a fit about church or any other thing they demanded we do. We’re not completely lax disciplinarians ourselves, but our kids definitely push back on us in a way that we would never have dreamed of pushing back on our parents.

So, although I have promised to raise my children Catholic and am committed to dragging them to church until they move out, I am also philosophical about the fact that once my kids leave home, they will most likely never set foot in a Catholic church (or any church) again.

I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve done what I can. I remind myself that my husband’s mother was a kind and devout and community-oriented woman who loved her Methodist church, was extremely positive about it, and took the kids regularly even though the Methodist church does not demand weekly church attendance. Even so, two of her three sons (my husband included), no longer belong to the Methodist church and really don’t see the need for organized religion in any way, shape, or form.

But then? On the flip side? I see someone like Mike Johnson, the new Speaker of the House of Representatives, who tells interviewers that his entire worldview comes from, and all his questions can be answered by, the Bible.

You see? Not enough, or too much.

So I am Catholic, a religion that is known for calling itself the “one true Church,” and which seems currently to be trying to light an evangelization fire under its members.

I pay no attention to this directive. I’m not here to talk you into being Catholic. My love for Catholicism has nothing to do with its being the “one true Church.” If I love Catholicism, it’s for different reasons. If we had to get right down to the nitty gritty, here’s some of the reasons I like Catholicism:

  • I like its focus on Mary as the Mother of God, and I like that we sometimes hear about women in both our Old and New Testament readings. Jesus seemed like a guy who could get along with and converse with women normally, and to me, that seems like a good trait for a guy to have.
  • I like its focus on saints. When I was little, saint story books were the only “recreational” reading available in my house, and I inhaled them. Talk about action! Persecution of early Christians! Stonings! Miracles! Rick Riordan had nothing on the authors of all those “high action” saints books I read as a kid.
  • I like Jesus. He was poor, and he looked like he lost about as badly as you can lose, what with being crucified and all. And what did he do? HE CAME BACK TO LIFE. Suck on that, Roman ruling class.
  • I am inspired by Catholics who have worked on behalf of the poor and downtrodden, such as Dorothy Day and Daniel Berrigan and nuns who do things like protest at the School of the Americas.

I know I’m supposed to care about the Eucharist, and the Mass, and all the pomp and circumstance (at least, that’s what it seems like the Church wants me to care about currently), but I don’t. I also don’t care what religion you are. At all. I call this aspect of my personality the “Ancient Egyptian Theory.” Ever since I was 8 and read about the ancient Egyptians, who lived thousands of years before Christ and Christianity, I’ve thought, well, there had to be some decent ancient Egyptians, right? And even though they worshipped different and multiple gods, they were still decent, right? So who am I to say that only Catholic/Christian people have all the answers?

I am clearly not the only person who has wondered about gender differences and the religious experience. In 2016, the Pew Research Center published a report titled “The Gender Gap In Religion around the World.” Here are some of their findings:

  • 74% of women said religion is “very important” in their lives, compared to 47% of men (in the U.S.).
  • 40% of women attend some kind of religious service weekly, as compared with 32% of men (again, in the U.S.).
  • The study noted differences among religions, but worldwide, an estimated 83.4% of women “identify with a faith group,” compared to 79.9% of men.

These findings, and the findings of other such surveys and studies over the past few decades, have led scholars to theorize on why this gender gap exists. Here are some of those theories:

  • Men have more testosterone and therefore, a higher tolerance for risk, making them less likely to seek out religion.
  • Women are more involved with both childbirth and death; this keeps them “closer to religion than men.”
  • Women have traditionally had less economic security than men and have needed the community/support of religion more.
  • Nobody really knows. It’s literally considered “a genuine scientific puzzle.”

Why do I even care about any of this?

As usual, the problem I am having with the world around me has its roots in my own insecurities and personal crisis of faith.

I can no longer reconcile what I see religion doing with what I wish it was doing. As church membership declines across all faiths, to me it seems that the people remaining in church leadership and membership are the extremely hardcore and conservative. In other words, I see the Catholic Church doubling down on its all-male leadership, the conservatism of its priests and positions, and its business model that seems to place a premium on maintaining fewer, shinier, almost entirely urban churches and facilities.

And, any time I speak with other family members who belong to more evangelical Protestant churches, I become even more afraid. They too seem to be becoming more entrenched, more invested in political power above anything else.

To me it seems that many of these decisions are being made by men. Men like American Catholic bishops, the increasingly conservative priests in our new “pastorate” (a grouping of several smaller parishes that was just enforced in my diocese, or area group of churches), and the Mike Johnsons and Clarence Thomases and Matt Walshes.

I’ll be honest. These are not men with whom I feel I share any values.

And yet I want my sons to do more than move out someday and never think of God again.

So what to do? How can I encourage my sons to grow up into men who believe that Jesus Christ, with his wacky ideas that all humans had value and that people should only throw stones if they were absolutely sinless themselves (spoiler alert: they weren’t), is someone worth knowing? All while trying to avoid the fanatical elements in all religions who think we must all worship alike, even if they have to bully and torture everyone into their way of believing?

I am so tired of this world without nuance. And that goes double for how the world currently seems to practice religion.

Religion
Gender
Men
Society
Catholicism
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