Catholicism, Is It Right For Me?

I recently had a work related meeting with Father D., the head pastor of a local Roman Catholic Church. The reason for the meeting was relatively serious and being at a church and all I felt that the tone of the meeting would be serious as well. Although, it may have been a sign of things to come that when I set up the meeting over the phone the first thing Father D. said to me was, “Hello, Classy, are you staying out of trouble?” I, of course, responded, “Umm, yes, I guess so.”

When I walked over to the church I headed straight to what I thought was the rectory thinking the whole time, that’s where he lives, right? The door of the rectory was locked and not having the presence of mind to actually ring the doorbell, I figured that I would find him in the church, you know, just hanging out in the pews or something. I entered the church and the only door that was unlocked had a sign on it that said, “Please dispose of your gum here” which I thought was a bit odd, but oh well, there is a school in the church so the gum disposal warning sign made some sense. In the church there was no one to be found. I heard some people talking in the basement and decided to head down there. Someone had to know where Father D. was down there. Downstairs, I guess in the auditorium/cafeteria/multi-purpose room, there were photographers taking class pictures, and I found someone who pointed me out to the secret passageway to the rectory (okay, so it wasn’t secret, not at all like the grandfather clock on Webster, but it was this man-made ramp that attached the church to the rectory).

So, I am in the rectory with absolutely no clue where I am going or where I am allowed/not allowed to go. I mean, this is where the Fathers live and I was worried that I was going to catch a Father in his robe (my goodness!). I headed straight to the kitchen (a safe haven in my mind) and found some ladies cooking there. When I approached them they became startled and asked me how I got into the rectory. The secret passageway of course! One of the ladies called Father D. and told him I was there.

Father D. came down wearing a yellow polo shirt and khakis, which may be standard issue for a man of the cloth, but I was expecting something a bit more flashy, maybe some golden rings and a snazzy hat, but then again I am completely a religion illiterate. We had our meeting at the dining room table. During our meeting the ladies continued to prepare lunch and at one point the sound of the blender interrupted our chatter. Father D. looked at me and exclaimed, “ I don’t know what the hell that is!” Hell! You heard it right! I thought there was some law or something against that, but since he opened the profanity door for me I responded with, “Yeah, that’s some straight up bull shit going down in there!” (Okay, so I didn’t really say that, my name isn’t Classy for nothing). During our meeting, Father D. also complained about how he made no money and would most likely qualify low income tax preparation assistance. This confused me as well for didn’t people choose to become priests because they didn’t care about worldly possessions or money? On a final note, Father D. walked me to the front door of the rectory and we said our goodbyes. He commented on how the weather was nice and I told him that I was glad because I had to play softball the day before in a torrential downpour and mudslides. In “classic” Father D. style he responded, “Well, at least you can follow up a bad softball game with going to the tavern for some beers.” My reply, an uncomfortable, um, yeah I guess so. People, what was I supposed to say?