I left the church years ago. I have a solid foundation for my rejection from 8 years of parochial school education including catechism classes, daily mass and a smart-alek boy who referred to our priest as Padre after watching (a banned) Saturday Night Live episode.
I get the references to Christianity when they show up in film, in “news entertainment” commentary, in arguments for and against feminism and traditional choice making. The references are all around us, so embedded into the culture and the routines of life, living and death.
About 10 years ago, the Catholic church I attended at that time played a recorded message from the bishop during the sermon. It was about how to vote in the next election and instructed parishioners to give his and her vote to the candidate who stood behind the church’s unwavering stance on birth control and family planning.
I joined with several other women in turning my back to the altar. Facing the congregation for the duration of the message was not difficult. I stood tall and stared defiantly into the eyes of any who chose to meet mine.
I don’t miss much.
But I do miss the music.