My name is Pablo Colmena and I have a confession. I stopped being a Catholic many years ago. The path was jagged and supported by curiosity. The momentum of new knowledge was impossible to restrain. My state of being shifted from a sense of belonging to a state of tense coexistence between my roots and the new possibilities that lay across like a plain. I could see out for miles. How could I not run and thrust myself into this new world? My parents came to a new land and carried over familiar practices to protect the family as we found our footing. I took advantage of this safety and kept running. I kept running thinking I would eventually fall. My sense of exploration was at risk of being broken by this harsh new land. But that fall never happened. I stumbled many times and found enough forgiveness to retrace my steps. So I kept going.
I have a confession. I stopped being Catholic because restraining myself to a specific point of view was no longer palatable. I opened my mind to discover new experiences and take risks. I was not always this vulnerable. I was a terrible eater as a child. My diet consisted mainly of frijoles and tortillas. I am sure this caused my parents to worry about my health. My parent’s worry was evident in the number of childhood vitamin bottles they bought. My first real taste of pizza in middle school opened a world of possibilities for me. As an adult I first tasted the grape from Anderson Valley and thought it was the only one for me. The Russian River taught me about variety within a group, and the wine shops in Buenos Aires made any limitations seem foolish. The same could be said about almost any table wine in Spain. This sense of exploration and discovery may be why the religion did not take in my mind.
I have a confession. I stopped being Catholic because I learned about Constantine. I learned the politicalization of religion has been a consistent part of history. The canon could no longer be viewed as the pure words of wisdom from the divine. The canon was the summation of political butchery to serve to the seats of power. As most things in life, the process was likely not all negative. Butchery is the precursor to nourishment. Some parts are definitely tastier than others. Once the canon was put to rest in my mind, Darwin began to flourish. Darwin had been present in my mind, but only minimally understood. Dawkins helped stir that volcano within my heart of curiosity.
I have a confession. I stopped being Catholic because the watchmaker is blind. I had a basic understanding of genetics and DNA. The connection among species through natural selection and evolution was too hard to ignore. After Dawkins, I understood one version of how this could play out at the genetic level. Once Dawkins helped me make the connection of the gene and Darwin, there was no turning back. That was the breakthrough. It was my beachhead. I pushed deeper into the wider world of ideas and actively dismantled my faith.
I have a confession. I stopped looking back at Catholicism with disdain because it turns outs that Dawkin’s ideas are not enough to satisfy the link between my mind, heart, and gut. I thrusted myself deeper into the unknown and tried to understand randomness. I started viewing many of the events driving my life as pure chance. The number of events preceding my birth are dizzying to think about, even without wine. The confluence of these events necessary to create me is simply incomprehensible. This idea almost made me feel necessary. I was somehow meant to be here. Yet I am no one. I had finally realized that I had lived in a cloud of uniqueness. The cloud consisted of many parts. One part consisted of self-importance and another part consisted of my relative academic performance over my peers. Another part was the affirming attitude from many individuals in the different environments I cohabited. I finally walked into the Pantheon to be liberated. The grandeur of it spoke directly to me. It acknowledged my insignificance. I felt joy.
I have a confession. I stopped feeling pure contempt for Catholicism because I began to understand complexity and antifragility. Some of the heuristics and traditions are helpful for survival. I gave up soda for Lent when I was a young teenager. The exclusion of soda from my diet became a lifetime habit. I began to understand that the practice of occasional sacrifice builds character. I began to suspect that Catholicism was placed upon me by history and the evolution of ideas. I attempted to discard all of Catholicism, but there were ideas worth preserving. I realized that these ideas started well before Catholicism. Our ancestors had already done some of the experimenting well before there was a church. Catholicism was merely the vessel that delivered these rituals to me. I had now constructed multiple vessels in my mind. The expanse of the universe began to feed me.
I have a confession. I am no longer Catholic. The heuristics and traditions gave me a home with my family. My family comes from a strong tradition of being practical. Religious difference aside, we are still family. I no longer follow the canon and my family still receives me with open arms. The holidays give us time to get together, break bread, and enjoy each others company. I do not see a need to save souls through baptism, but it is an effective way of bringing families together. These benefits in no way excuse or forgive the church for their sins. The benefits I and others receive from the practice coexist with the tragedy the institution unleashed upon others. My contempt for Catholicism is partially neutralized by an understanding of how large institutions can fail. The feelings are only partially neutralized as I maintain some feelings of contempt towards that institution as they are still keen on limiting certain freedoms.
I no longer need to confess. I can coexist with my Catholic family. I am almost certain they would prefer that I follow certain practices. They do not always verbalize their opinion, but it is revealed in the stares I get when I tell them I had steak on a Friday during Lent. I am almost certain there are things they would prefer I did not say. The situation feels like a gentlemen’s agreement. I do not actively questions their beliefs and they do not actively question my doubts. Even if we did, or when we have, the discussions have been cordial and are limited by the first hint that it may interfere with the moment at hand.
I am a different branch jetting out to the opposite side. I am the new node at the beginning of a new spiral. I am part of the same universe, part of the same ground. Comfortable with the dirt I stand on top of every day. The dust is evidence of the continued trek. I am more confident in my journey. I can coexist with the idea that I have broken away from the pull of my past and perhaps used it as the force to slingshot me to where I am today. I may be wrong in having left my beliefs. I take comfort in knowing they are wrong for holding on to those beliefs. My comfort does not come from a sense of scorn. Comfort comes from standing outside the circle.
OUTSIDE THE CIRCLE
The lessons learned away from Catholicism have been fruitful and useful. I am not limited by a view of good versus evil. I am enriched by a view of endless intersections between circumstance, decisions, and consequences. This does not deny the existence of evil in the world. One merely turns on the news to get an overdose of evil acts performed daily. The simplification of these acts into buckets of good and evil, while more palatable to some, particularly those with a religious bent, leaves me feeling intellectually deprived.
I am always curious to learn more about the environment and conditions in which these actions took place. I must actively fight against the urge to find explanations that satisfy my own rationale. That is a common problem I noticed with some academics and some intellectuals. They generally try to seek a rationale that satisfies their mind and ties into their own lived experienced. I have found greater satisfaction and accuracy in reviewing these items within their own context and then contrasting to my own set of experiences. This reveals gaps in my own understanding and gives me a greater appreciation that I can never fully understand their experience because I did not live that moment in question. I merely studied it.
Excerpt from “West of Western.” You can find the full paperback and kindle version at Amazon