My father never indicated what his relationship with God might be. He only insisted that he was dedicated to allowing his children to be raised as Catholics. He was not Catholic and seemed to know very little about Catholics other than the fact that my mother was devout in her devotion to the teachings of the Catholic Church. He and she were married at City Hall in downtown Houston but my mother insisted that their pledge to one another would not be properly complete until they also exchanged vows at a Catholic Church.

The day after they sealed their love for each other in a legal manner they traveled to a little Catholic Church in College Station, Texas where my father was attending Texas A&M College. It was not until their union had been blessed in a Catholic ceremony that my mother declared that she was a married woman in the site of God and the state. 

My mother often recalled the meeting that my father had with the priest who blessed their marriage. At that time the priest asked my father to sign a promise that he would raise any children that he and my mother had as Catholics. Evidently he did not hesitate for a moment in providing his oath and so my brothers and I would be faithfully raised in the Catholic Church mostly under the guidance of our mother, a woman who was so devout that she spent her last day on earth in a state of prayer. 

My father never went to church with us but he supported my mother when she insisted that we be baptized in the Catholic Church. He celebrated each birth of his children with the idea that we would be as religious as our mother. He even sent me to Catholic school when it became time for me to begin my education. 

I never really wondered what my father was doing on Sunday mornings when my mother would take me and my brothers to mass. It just seemed like a normal situation because I was not yet old enough to think it odd that my father did not participate in our faith formation. The only time he ever hinted at his own beliefs was when he went on a rant about a Protestant church that he had attended as a boy. He warned us to stay away from people who were self-righteous in their beliefs. He much preferred the messages of love that my mother conveyed to him through her Catholicism. 

Because my father died when I was only eight years old I never had an opportunity to have a more adult conversation about religion with him. I would have liked to know about his beliefs or lack of them. Instead I grew in wisdom and age and grace by attending Catholic schools for twelve years. There I learned about the fundamental beliefs of my church which seemed to center on the life and words of Jesus. Mostly I followed my mother’s example of charity and kindness for all people. 

I had read about many of the Catholic saints and in learning about their lives I saw my mother as a saint in her own right. Other Catholics that I knew stood out for their devotion to God but mostly for their love of all people. Mr. Barry, the father of one of my best friends, was one of the souls who seemed to be the finest example of a good Catholic that I had ever known. Later I would meet parents of my friends who had the same kind of tendencies to love their neighbors as my mother and Mr. Barry always did. I mostly grew to love my Catholic faith because of the message of empathy and good will that it tried to embody. 

As I grew older I began to see the flaws and cracks in the Catholic church but like my father I focused on the best aspects of my faith. I began to understand that as humans none of us are ever perfect although my mother and Mr. Barry seemed to come close to achieving that ideal. I would eventually engage in long intellectual conversations about Catholicism and religion in general with my mother-in-law who was a convert to the Catholic faith. From her I leaned how to studiously probe the words of great religious thinkers. My faith matured to a point of being able to critique the human flaws of religion while still celebrating the essence of my faith. 

I am hardly the most devout Catholic in the world. I don’t always go to church and there have been times when I have totally disagreed with certain teachings that seem to be far more judgmental than the words and actions of Jesus. I have learned to embrace people of many different faiths and welcomed their stories and their beliefs. Some might say that I am far too liberal in my interpretation of God’s words because I focus on the single commandment to love one another more than all of the other rules. 

I know that I disagree with the beliefs of many of the people with whom I attended Catholic school all those years ago. Theirs is a more conservative and rule driven faith than mine. I suspect that they may at times feel as though the beliefs that I hold verge on being heresy and I do understand why they might see me as someone who has fallen from grace or is at least confused. I suppose that I have become a Catholic whose beliefs reflect those of my devoted mother, my intellectual mother-in-law and my seemingly faithless father. By watching and learning from them all I have a very ecumenical view of life while still holding steadfastly to my own Catholic faith. 

I am stunned but not surprised by the recent rant against Pope Leo that Trump posted in a nighttime rage. What really saddens me is knowing that many of my truly faithful friends and relatives have viewed Trump as a good and religious man who supports their own beliefs. I have wondered how they have been able to convince themselves that he is a spiritual man. I saddens me to think of how disappointed in him they must be feeling. If they still can’t see who he really is, I worry about them even more. It is apparent to me that they and others of good faith have been used by him in horrific ways. I wonder if they will even listen to Pope Leo who is making it very clear that Trump’s version of religion is dangerous and flies in the face of Jesus’ message of peace. 

I’m glad that the Pope is standing his ground for what is right. I think my father would be happy to know that Pope Leo is protecting the Catholic faith that he wanted me and my brothers to have. In some ways it was my father who alerted me to the danger of false prophets, false gods, those who would defile the words and actions of Jesus for their own power. Still I believe that Trump is a very sick man and that Jesus would be willing to forgive his sins and love him in spite of his heresy. Sadly, my only reaction will be to continue to warn those that I know and love to be wary of the dangers that our deranged president are forcing onto the world. It is now up all American citizens to stop Trump before his insanity grows even more dangerous than it now is. Perhaps God has sent us a sign that enough is enough. Like Pope Leo we have to be unafraid to stand up for what we know is right.