On a recent trip to Philadelphia, I decided to duck into the magnificent Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul. As I entered I dipped my hand into the holy water and blessed myself. No sooner had I wiped off my wet hand than I heard the quiet squeak of the new shoes I was wearing.Well, maybe I was just being too self-conscious. I really didn't want to draw attention to myself. You see, I was with my partner.
'On a recent trip to Philadelphia, I decided to duck into the magnificent Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul. As I entered I dipped my hand into the holy water and blessed myself. No sooner had I wiped off my wet hand than I heard the quiet squeak of the new shoes I was wearing.',That shouldn't be a big deal, right? The problem is I have always had to struggle to reconcile my Catholic upbringing with my evolving sense of faith and values. I just can't abandon those deeply rooted family traditions.
That's why it's still hard for me to pass a Catholic church without having some desire to peek inside. I've tried to admire the religion from a distance, acknowledge that it's not for me, and move on. But, when I told my very Catholic family that I had decided to explore other faiths, in part because I am gay, they only reinforced feelings of shame and regret. I don't see them much now.
So, that's really what brought me and my partner to walk the side chapels of the cathedral. There we were, the noisy rhythm of my soles following us. I figured it would disappear after a bit, but no such luck. I tried walking on the sides of my feet; I tried limping, but there was no hiding. It seemed to get louder, and I could swear I was beginning to disturb the few devoted who prayed silently. The giant cathedral seemed filled with my guilt, echoing back to me, forcing me out of its cavernous space. Were people staring at us as we made our way to the exit?
Another couple entered the church as we headed out. They looked us over as we passed each other. I squawked out a friendly "hello" to their strained smiles. They couldn't have heard my shoes squeak. They just got there.
In the vestibule, I looked at my partner. "Let's get out of here," he said. I had to agree. I slipped my hand into his, and we walked out of that cathedral together. Even then, I knew I would be drawn in again one day.
-- John de la Parra, Red Bank, N.J.
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