Epiphany 1

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Epiphanies

I’ve seen the following phrase printed on mugs, and a few times I’ve heard it said that “Life is a bitch and then you just die.”  That statement is an oxymoron. Life is bittersweet, it is controlled chaos and it is sweet sorrow.  Instead of writing about sorrow, bitterness or chaos I’ve decided to write about the sweetness that life has to offer.  I’m not a religious person but I have experienced a few ethereal moments in my life that are worth writing about. Catholics sometimes refer to these as epiphanies and I like the explanation from Wikipedia:

Excerpt off the web http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epiphany_(feeling)

An epiphany (from the ancient Greek ἐπιφάνεια, epiphaneia, "manifestation, striking appearance") is the sudden realization or comprehension of the (larger) essence or meaning of something. The term is used in either a philosophical or literal sense to signify that the claimant has "found the last piece of the puzzle and now sees the whole picture," or has new information or experience, often insignificant by itself, that illuminates a deeper or numinous foundational frame of reference.

Epiphany #1

My earliest memory in life starts when I was three years old. My mother was a Scottish protestant and she was a member of the Kerse, Parish Church in Grangemouth, and a church that I was practically raised in.  I loved going to Sunday school because it was a warm comforting place. My Sunday school teachers were kind and I felt safe and secure whenever I was in the old, church building. The Christmas parties were something that I looked forward to and I truly believed everything that I was taught (gentle Jesus meek and mild etc.) until I was eleven years old. A thoroughly negative situation enabled me to cast off the church together with its antiquated beliefs and all that it stood for. I suppose that I became an atheist at age eleven but it served a purpose because now I believe in something, but that’s another story.

Excerpt off the web http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Church_of_Scotland

The Church of Scotland, (Scottish Gaelic: Eaglais na h-Alba, Scots: Kirk o Scotland) known informally by its Scots language name, the Kirk, is a Presbyterian church, decisively shaped by theScottish Reformation.

The Church of Scotland traces its roots back to the beginnings of Christianity in Scotland, but its identity is principally shaped by the Reformation of 1560. Its current pledged membership is about 9% of the Scottish population—though according to the 2001 national census, 42% of the Scottish population claim some form of allegiance to it (see Religion in Scotland).

The Sunday School Parties. 

Top photo 1950 age five. I'm in the 2nd  row from the front, 4th in from the right.

Bottom photo 1948 age three. I'm in the 3rd row from the front, 2nd from the right.

There were some Catholic children in our predominantly protestant town but they went to a different school and I never knew any of them. Once when I was about seven years old, I asked my mother why the Catholic girls that I could see out of the front living room window were wearing white dresses and veils. They looked like little brides. My mother’s ominous reply sent shivers up and down my spine.

            “Because they marry their bairns (kids) to the priest,” she replied, “and they drink blood.”

I only ever knew one Catholic person back then. He was a high school boy who gave me a ride home from a party, and that was my total experience of mixing with Catholics. 

My class at the College of Domestic Science 1963. I'm at the end on the left side.

My epiphany came in the autumn of 1962 when I was a sixteen year old student at the school of Domestic Science in Aberdeen. One of my very good friends was another student who came from Buckie in Banffshire.  I  and I made arrangements to meet one Saturday morning in order to do some shopping for school supplies. I  wasn’t able to meet me until 11 am.

            “Why can’t we meet earlier?” I asked her. “11 am is a bit late in the day.”

            “Because I have to go to Mass first,” she replied.

            “You’re Catholic?” I muttered in amazement.

            “Yes,” she replied.

That night I struggled with disbelief. My friend was a Roman Catholic and I liked her very much. She was just like me although much more personable, and absolutely normal. I felt a veil lifting from my eyes and my brain began to clear. It was as if for just a few moments I had drifted into a different dimension. What I had learned as a child from my protestant Sunday school teachers and also from my mother, had given me an extremely skewered view of Catholicism. Finally I was set free. I was set free of religious prejudice. What bliss! Since that time I have been able to keep an open mind concerning the subject of religion. It doesn’t really matter to me what a person believes, it only matters what a person is. I hope that the great divine feels the same way.