Bhí Chaill sé, agus tá fáil.

That's Gaelic for, "He was lost, and is found." It's from the Parable of the Prodigal Son. I'm no preacher. Nor am I a holy roller or Jesus freak. I generally keep my religion and religious beliefs to myself, my family or people I know who have similar beliefs. Don't overtly blog about it, except to wish people "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Easter". It's a personal thing...is what I've always thought.

And that's probably the main reason I've resisted going to church all these years. Hundreds of people in church doing everything everyone else is doing. Reciting, praying, kneeling, singing. I spent too much time passing judgement on what I was seeing and less attention on what the priest was saying and why I was there. The last time I went with any regularity was from January - April in 1998 while living in Phoenix. Since then...weddings and funerals. I was lazy - I admit it. I searched high and low for churches in California but none of them did anything for me. I'm particular. It's all about the priest(s). Or the head pastor. My dad has bugged me for years. "You goin' to church?". "You better start." And he's serious. I've never stopped believing in the tenets of my faith (Catholicism). Just lazy and picky, like I mentioned. I rationalize my lack of church-going commitment by getting on a soapbox and extolling the virtues of worshipping God in my own way - in private prayer or in Nature. I believe those to be acceptable ways to carry on my faith - but I need some structure.

So I finally went to church this past Sunday...St. Alphonsus in Greendale, where my dad made his first communion. New church, same school. It was good. I enjoyed the pastor's sermon. I was moved. I even acted on the pastor's message (those of you who know me well will shit when I tell you what I did). Anyway, going back to church made me think about some things:

1) Why do the people who sing in the chorus get communion first? Who do they think they are? “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess.” Come on, man...

2) These folk who walk into church during the priest’s sermon? Really? The Mass is half over. Why bother? I suppose one could say, “well, they didn’t have to show up at all – they made the effort.” OK – but what if the entire parish took the same attitude?

3) Or the people who leave immediately after communion. Wanna eat but don’t wanna clean up the kitchen, eh? It’s 5 more minutes – you can’t wait?

4) That thing that people do just before the reading of the Gospel. “…according to the Gospel of St. Peter. (They make the sign of the cross on their forehead, lips and chest.) Glory to you, Oh Lord.” What’s with that signing? Everyone does it at the same time. I always thought that was weird. (Not like praying and singing together isn't private or anthing.) My father does a similar thing just before Communion. A one-motion hand movement toward his chest. I think it's old Catholic school, before my time. That I like.

5) That one girl singing in the choir – the one that’s overly-animated and bobbing back and forth – she’s into it, baby. Well – she’s bothering me.

6) I like the end of the pew. Why is it that when I show up early, people who come at the very last minute think I’m just gonna scoot over for them? I don’t think so. Crawl in and sit in the middle, brother.

7) I didn’t take Communion. I was raised that if you miss Mass you have to wait after the first time you go back to receive Holy Communion. Is that rule archaic? I also haven’t been to confession in 20 years. Mmmmm…should I make a reservation?

Hey - no judgements from me, man. Just making observations. And I knew why I was present in church so my attention wasn't diverted. The big question is, "will I go back?" This Sunday I already know I won't (so much for that New Year's good habit, eh?) 'cause I'll be in Los Angeles on the set of my short film - OUR short film (I know Tat, I know. It's your film, really - but my script.).

Cut me some slack. Ya gotta walk before you can run.