Their Prayers

By Zingray Germershausen

I went to Catholic school. I went through the motions. I did all the things that school asked of me. I performed each task they gave me before I could even register what I was actually doing. I did the homework and the service hours. I prayed their prayers and worshiped their God. I stood, sat, and kneeled during the monthly Mass. But I stopped believing. I stopped pretending to myself. I stopped acting like everything made sense. 

I realized that none of their doctrine made sense to me. None of their reasoning made sense to me. The more they tried to explain it, the less I understood. They went in circles constantly. They were chasing their tails, but they were so smart. I didn’t understand how they didn’t realize. Everything contradicted itself, so I stopped listening to understand. 

I started listening just to hear their contradictions. They taught me how to reason, discuss, and argue, so I used it against them. I had to do it silently. I couldn't ask questions because I'd stand out. They claimed you could share thoughts and have discussions, but it was better for your grade if you kept your mouth shut and lied your way through the assignments. 

So many of us didn't believe any of it, but none of us ever said anything. We were too scared; it wasn’t safe. It was better for our GPA if we quietly talked about our honest thoughts after class with fellow pariahs. We kept quiet at our desks, though. We tried to blend in, and most of the time we did. 

In my case, I blended in so successfully that I fooled myself sometimes. To all of the teachers, I was the perfect student. I had my assignments in on time, my 4.0 GPA, my service hours done early, and my uniform on correctly. I always looked up to God for them, but my mind was absent. I saw no meaning in their religious items or their prayers. Where other girls saw a stained-glass panel depicting their savior, I just saw a piece of art. Where those girls saw beads that connected them to their Holy mother, I saw a necklace. 

I wanted what those girls had sometimes. They had a deep connection to God that they didn't have to fake. They could understand the doctrine without having to pretend. They could listen in class without being confused by the unending contradictions I heard. It would've been so easy to be like them. I guess I just never got it, though, and I hated them for that. I never felt that connection to my Creator. It wasn’t for lack of trying. 

I went to those schools my whole life. I always tried to feel it, and I always tried to have faith. I kept trying until I was exhausted. Then, I gave up. I was done trying because I could only see the negative parts that they were teaching me. My reasoning was too strong to blindly have faith, and I didn’t understand how the intelligent people teaching me couldn’t see what I was seeing. I was confused, but I gave up trying and just went through the motions. I pretended to be one of those girls from 8:00 am to 3:00 pm every weekday. I stopped pretending to myself, though. I knew who I was now, and it wasn’t one of them.