Yesterday I decided I would attend Sunday Mass. I have been involved in some fairly weighty theological conversations with my friend, bringing to the surface awareness that I am restless and in a state of holy longing for the Absolute One. I do not usually attend conventional Mass. The exclusive language of the liturgy is like a cacophony of painful sounds, each one more abusive than the next. But this morning I thought it would be different because I was different. The hole in my heart was larger, more pronounced and in need for that which I could not name.
I should say that my academic studies have lifted me far from a loving encounter with Jesus or for that matter, any part of Christian orthodoxy, which is why my decision to attend mass is confusing. In fact, through my initiation into theology as a discipline, I have become a paradox to myself. On the one hand, I am informed on enough theological matters that I might be able to swoop a Jeopardy category of say, “Anything having to do with Christianity.” But when it comes to articulating my beliefs with regard to such doctrines as the Virgin birth, divinity, miracles, prayer or, (gasp) the validity of the Bible, I’m stalled. Even more than that, I’m inclined to suspend most confessional statements about the Divine because, in spite of my education and degrees, I do not know what I think I should know. Continue reading “The Dark Night of a Theological Education By Cynthia Garrity-Bond”
Feminism and Religion 