On Christmas Eve, you’ll find me in the same place as last year, and the year before that, at midnight mass (which isn’t even on at midnight by the way, but leaves enough time for one last drink catching up with mates in the local pub after ). It’s a tradition that I’ve been doing since I was a kid (not the pub bit ) and one I rather like. It’s the only time, except for weddings and funerals, I go to church now. What was once a weekly tradition is now an annual one.
I don’t remember exactly when I stopped going to mass. It reminds me of one of those lost friendships from school. You’d see that person every day because they were in your class – friends through convenience and lack of choice. You got on fine and it was someone to hang out with and stopped you being the dreaded loner (though at times that would have been the better option). When you left school you might try and meet up for a coffee now and then – mainly out of guilt. Then one day you realise you’ve lost contact.
That’s how I feel about the church now. I didn’t turn around one day and say I’m not going to mass. It just fizzled out like a relationship that has run its course.
I was born in Dublin a Roman Catholic like the majority of people in the Republic of Ireland. I went to a convent secondary school and had sex education taught by a nun (Looking back probably not the best person to learn this specific part of education from - God knows what I’ve been doing in the bedroom all these years). And I went to mass every Sunday - because I had to. I didn’t hate it, all my mates went and sometimes I got to say a reading on the altar (good practice of what was to come, just minus the autocue).
As I got older and travelled more I began to question all those things I learned in religion class – how did Noah fit all those animals on one Ark? Eve was made from Adam’s rib?
But what really made me question my whole religion was the feeling of betrayal when allegations of sexual abuse of children in Ireland emerged. If there is a god why would he let this happen and why by the hands of people using his (I’m using a masculine prefix for convenience but could easily say ‘her’ here) good name? These people were trusted by communities and used their power to take advantage of those vulnerable. And as I got older, the catholic church’s views on gay marriage and female reproductive rights continued to push me away.
That said, I can’t give it up completely. In fact, I still classify myself as Catholic, but it’s more to do with cultural heritage than what I actually believe. I like the comfort and belonging and nostalgia but don’t want to sign up for the whole shebang. Does that make me a hypocrite? Maybe. But open my kitchen cupboard and you’ll find a bottle of holy water. Actually you’ll find several scattered around my home – from Lourdes, from Fatima, from Jerusalem, even Knock in Ireland where in 1879 the Virgin Mary apparently appeared.
Now I’ve reached my thirties and living in cosmopolitan London, I’m jealous of people who believe without question. My brain won’t allow it – I’m constantly asking ‘why?’ Yet I still feel the need to believe in something. I celebrate Christmas, and have a handmade nativity set on my mantle-piece. I will go to midnight mass and sing along to the hymns and shake hands and say ‘peace be with you’ and even receive the Eucharist. I like flying back from the hustle and bustle of London and listening to the Priest relay a homily – even if it’s not relevant to me in the slightest. I will pray and it will make me feel all lovely and warm inside and full of love and give me a sense of community.
I’m not ready to give up on Christianity completely- but can I be a Catholic if I don’t agree with so many of its views? I know that at it’s core religion says be kind and good to one another, yet why is religion the cause of so much war and conflict? I’m constantly struggling with what to believe – so can I take what I want, and what I need, from multiple sources?
My mother still classifies herself as Catholic. In 1979 she queued for four hours to get into Phoenix park along with 2.7million other folk (more than half the whole country) to see Pope John Paul II. This summer Pope Francis had 200,000 fans show up. I asked my mother why she didn’t go this time and she simply reply: ‘I’m not bothered.’
My Grandfather was born a Protestant and my Granny a Catholic and at the time my Grandfather became Catholic to marry her. Today, my boyfriend was born into Church of Scotland and I’m ‘ Catholic -ish’ but it’s not something we have even talked about or need to discuss really.
I have Jewish friends who put up a Christmas Tree and Muslim mates who drink. Their religion is their heritage but can they define themselves by their religion?
I asked my followers on Twitter if they were religious. Approximately 90% said ‘NO’ but caveated it with a massive ‘BUT.’ If something bad happens most of us will say a prayer even though we’re not sure who exactly we’re praying to.
With technology and busy lives I find myself looking elsewhere for comfort, filling the gap that traditional religion once held. From meditation, to yoga to reiki to sound baths -I’ve dipped my toe in it all. And I’m not the only one. Most of us seem to be searching for something.
For my Granny, Sunday mass was where she found out the latest gossip, wore her fanciest clothes and looked for words of wisdom but now we’ve got social media for that. And today my granny would be that yummy mummy in her latest sweaty betty or fabletics activewear heading to hot yoga with her soya matcha latte. Instagram and twitter are full of ‘thoughts for the days ‘ and ‘inspiring quotes’ – who needs a passage from the Bible ( especially if it’s Latin) when you can have a perfectly illustrated grid post telling you how to ‘live your best life.’
As part of my searching I’ve gone on retreats, met with Shaymans, chatted to Muslim popstars and Orthodox Jewish journalists – people who have lost religion, people who have found it and people who have never had it at all.
I looked at a recent study that unsurprisingly showed the proportion of young adults professing a Christian faith in the UK is among the lowest in Europe. Stephen Bullivant, a professor of theology and the sociology of religion at St Mary’s University in London said that 22 per cent of those aged between 16 and 29-years-old said they identified as Christian, while 70 per cent described themselves as non-religious. Stephen, who wasn’t born into a religious family has surprisingly found that since studying theology he has become religious. Religion is “moribund”, he says. “With some notable exceptions, young adults increasingly are not identifying with or practising religion.”
So what does all this mean? Should traditional religions re-evaluate the scriptures that are thousands of years old. Or should we just be able to practise what works for us individually?
Earlier this year, I publicly campaigned to repeal the 8th amendment of the Irish constitution recognising the equal to life of the pregnant woman and the unborn. I had mixed responses online to my views. My opinion went against my Catholic upbringing – but we are no longer living in the dark ages – shouldn’t we evolve with the times? Everything around us evolves – science, technology, Madonna’s fashion sense. Can’t our religious values too?
I’m still searching for what to believe in. I like the idea of Karma, of a protective energy guiding us, of guardian angels and of kindness. I have crystals in my pockets, meditate when I’m stressed, wear a cross around my neck and bless myself before I fly. In a world where you don’t have to choose a gender and we can have numerous jobs ( Hi I’m Laura and I’m a Presenter/Writer/Actor/DJ/Chancer) why do we have to choose a religion?
Laura Whitmore’s Losing My Religion airs Dec 23rd on BBC 5 LIVE