Religion in the Rockies

My wife and I both grew up in Catholic schools. We had Religion up to the gazoos. Ask me or my wife anything about our religion and we can respond with a 32-page dissertation.

Our son Paul, however, is a product of the public schools and has had only scattered religious instruction, just enough to get him through First Communion. My wife and I both plan on enrolling Paul in Bishop Gorman High School in Las Vegas, a great Catholic school and the stopover for many aspiring young athletes in Nevada.

On the way to Zion National Park in southwestern Utah last weekend, we passed by a town called Virgin River. I surmised that the town is called that because Virgin River runs through it.

Paul is one who seizes every opportunity to hold court whenever he is with his parents. He always has our full attention whenever we go on trips, with his mom sitting in front alongside driver-dad and Paul sitting right behind.

"Why is the Blessed Virgin Mary called that? Why not just Blessed Mary? What is a virgin?"

My wife immediately played defense. "Virgin means pure of heart, kind, almost God-like, worthy of being God's mother," she explained, apparently not noticing that she actually defined "Blessed."

I would have attempted a more technical definition of "virgin" but I wasn't sure I would have succeeded in framing it in a way that Paul would appreciate. There are times when I am flummoxed by Paul's questions.

"I was made by God and came out of mommy's tummy, why do I look like you?" he asked.

I said weakly, "when two people get married, the son usually looks like his father and the daughter looks like her mother."

"But Natasha does not look like mommy," Paul said.

My mouth filled with air and I burst out laughing.

Paul's knowledge of his Catholic religion is really spotty. I once asked him, just to test his knowledge, if he knew who Jesus Christ was.

"Yes," he said, "he's the dead guy." I always laugh at Paul's matter-of-fact outrageous statements.

On further reflection I realized that Paul was the wisest of us all. We do in fact depict Christ as the one who died on the Cross for us. All our homes have crucifixes somewhere. Most Filipinos have rosaries with oversized crucifixes hanging from their minivan's rear-view mirrors.

We Catholics are so focused on Christ dying for our sins that most traditional Catholics have the mindset that we all have crosses to bear. We are here on this earth to audition for the Big Luau in the sky by bearing our burdens, being Christ-like.

I find it strange, but also refreshing, that my son - my youngest - does not know his religion and is learning it in drips and drabs at his own pace. I would rather that he learns his religion that way. Force-feeding religion to a child is the surest way to raise agnostics.

When children grow up and rebel, one of the institutions that they start to question and eventually reject is their childhood religion.

Paul was in a Halo 3 XBox 360 match and conversation with his classmate when he came to me and asked me if we were Christians or Catholics. I said matter-of-factly we were Catholics.

"All this time Paul did not know we were Catholics?" I thought to myself.

"Why do we sing Osama Bin Laden in Church?" he asked me and his mom after Church one Sunday afternoon.

I said, "we don't sing Osama Bin Laden."

Then he sang, "Osama Bi-in Laden" to the tune of "Hosanna in the highest."

Our mouths exploded in laughter.

When we passed the town of Virgin River again on our way back from Zion, Paul asked me, "Dad, why did you laugh when I asked you what virgin means?"

I said, "I didn't laugh."

"You laughed. I saw your cheeks get puffed up," he said.