How a Catholic and Mormon Raised a Methodist | Heather Ferguson| November 2011
I was baptized Catholic, and still remember the veil and white dress I wore to my First Communion. Confirmation was the morning after my senior prom and, although I was somewhat groggy, I was there. Between the time I was born and the day I graduated from high school, I can only recall missing Mass on one occasion, and that was only because I was in the hospital. The rituals of the Catholic faith became as ingrained in me as my name and date of birth. Catholic was not merely my religion. It was my identity.
After college and as a young professional I dated, well, regularly. But I fell in love with my husband-to-be very slowly. After many bad relationships, it took some time to recognize that he was “the one”. By this point in my life, I wasn’t a “practicing” Catholic and therefore didn’t focus much on his religious background, either. I just knew and believed we would live happily ever after. Then came the marriage preparation classes that the Catholic church requires. Suddenly there was a gaping chasm between my Catholic heritage and his Mormon traditions. I give the priest credit, as he tried to find common ground between the two and often spoke about the emphasis both religions placed on family. But what he didn’t mention was the religious struggle that would begin the day we said “I do.”
My husband is known as “inactive” in the Mormon Church and has not practiced his faith since he was 13. However, he is as much a Mormon as I am a Catholic. For my husband, religion is centered in the memory of his mother. A devout Mormon, she was buried in her temple garments as a symbol of her involvement and commitment to Mormonism during her life. She often told my husband that she could not fathom having a grandchild of any other faith.
This disagreement in our marriage raised its head only sporadically until that magical day that our son was born. Then, the battle ensued. Initially we agreed to do a week at the Catholic church and a week at the Mormon church – 50/50. I quickly realized that would not work when I simply could not swallow many of the Mormon teachings, doctrines and beliefs. I won a huge victory when my husband consented to our son being baptized Catholic. But the reality is that we practiced apathy, and did not attend any church at all. It seemed easier than the constant bickering.
What I began to discover along this journey is that our religion is intertwined with our identity. But that was problematic for me. Despite the repetition and ritual of the Catholic faith, I somehow ended up a free thinker. As such, I do not believe in many of the Catholic dogmas. I am pro-choice. I believe in birth control. The death penalty. Even artificial insemination. And I firmly believe that all of us have the right to love and marry the person of our choosing. So, why am I tied so strongly to the faith of my upbringing rather than the faith of my choice?
Somewhere along the way my husband and I got sidetracked. Instead of looking within ourselves, we relied on what we had been taught. Why were we arguing about which church building to attend? Didn’t we both believe in God? Why did my husband feel such shame and guilt (I thought Catholics had cornered that market) about his son being raised in a faith other than Mormon? What makes us worship in the first place? Is there a need to feel accepted in a faith community? I wish I could say we have somehow resolved this debate. If we had, perhaps we could serve as beacons for all these interfaith marriages.
Instead, I’ve come to the personal resolution that the answer for me laid outside the consideration of faith. I want my son to have the structure of a religious upbringing, but not at the expense of pious and prejudicial beliefs toward others. In fact, we tried a variety of churches before finally joining the Methodists. Perhaps it was the Open Hearts, Open Doors, Open Minds that appealed to me, and I wish I could say my husband sits next to me each Sunday. He doesn’t. But because he doesn’t I’m learning to “let go” and ultimately relinquish control of the religion space.
I hope that my journey is teaching my son is to prioritize the people in his life by accepting their ideas and principles, values and beliefs, not as “qualifiers” of his love, but rather as natural characteristics of our otherwise diversified human family.
After all a church is just made up of people, right?
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