I was born and raised in the Catholic faith. I was once a practicing member of the Church. Not anymore … “I like the feeling that other people believe in something.” ~ Jessica Andrews, Saltwater: A Novel (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, January 14, 2020).
I don’t believe in religion, but the aesthetics of Catholicism have stuck with me. I love the way church incense coats my hair and skin. It is a safe smell, like a blanket, waiting for me to curl up in it. I love stained-glass windows and religious portraits, the colours of Mary’s clothes and the bright red drops of blood on Jesus’s face. I like the Stations of the Cross. I like pausing to run my finger along an emaciated rib and wrinkle my nose at the thought of the vinegar being offered on a sponge. I like prayer cards and medallions and rosary beads. I like advent candles and Bibles edged in gold and the way the skirt over the tabernacle matches the colour of the priest’s robes. There is so much attention to detail.
I envy the faithful. There are shrines dotted around the hillsides here in Ireland…
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It Is What It Is 