i've put another notch on my Bible Belt...

I have to say... religion, both structured and unstructured, has always been a fascination of mine. After throwing a fit outside of the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France because I was not allowed to buy a rosary, I think my parents knew I was a bit of an odd-duck. To be honest, my father's response was inadequate in answering my questioning of his justification in NOT buying a rosary. I was simply intrigued by the beautiful and intricate metal architecture, and he said "We aren't Catholic." What did that matter? I was a collector of anything and everything beautiful and mystifying to the 9-year-old mind.


If we're going to be honest, I believe he always had a bit of prejudice against Catholicism, rightly understandable being raised below the Mason-Dixon line as a Southern Evangelical. Boy, did I show him. I was confirmed at the age of 23 as an Orthodox, veil-wearing, rosary-praying, Virgin-Mary loving, Roman Catholic. My collection of Cathedral veils and rosaries has never been larger.


Sorry, Dad.


But, now I'm back; living a little above the heart of Dixie, right on the Bible Belt, and I can't find a single novena or confessional within 25 miles of my house. The Bible Belt has represented Southern religion at its finest. The term, informal in its use, is a description of the South-East geographic location referring to a cluster of Evangelical-Protestant religion and its subsets, spanning from north Florida to west Texas.


So here I wait, surrounded by openly-conversing Protestants who tell me God Bless every time I buy toilet paper and toothpaste at the Wal-mart checkout. While I miss the chilly temperatures and padded-knee stools of the Cathedral of St. Paul, I secretly... kind of... love it. Forgive me while I do ten Hail Mary's.  


And living with my best friend, the grandchild of a Southern Evangelical preacher, I knew I was headed for a fire-and-brimstone awakening, not to be confused with the Catholic scare-tactic of pure firery purgatory. I may have blinked, or sneezed, or some split-second moment of averting my eyes, and I found myself in the stadium-seating of a rock-band, Evangelical, jean-wearing, Hallelujah! shouting sermon. Where were the head-coverings? Where were the rosaries? Why was nobody kneeling? Are you even allowed to talk in Church? Where's his collar? And I'm pretty sure there's a lady playing Tetris on her Blackberry. It sure didn't matter because, NO CONFESSIONAL! Forget Communion, everyone had coffee cups.


Woah.


I began to yearn for my tradition, my formality, my silent reverence and pin-dropping moments of prayer. But... I needed to give it a try and open my mind. The Church, while bare in its luxuries, stained glass, and marble architecture, was simple, with an effortless appeal in its friendly, Southern-tainted accent and moral charm. The preacher was young, approachable, and easily-relate able. He wore jeans, and spoke passionately, at moments, screaming. His words were uncomplicated and lamen, and to the point, and people were taking notes!


I felt like every time I had entered a Cathedral, there was an invisible bag-check at the door, with large posted signs stating "PLEASE LEAVE EVERYTHING BUT YOUR GUILT AT THE DOOR." And...and...and...and... they wanted me to use my Bible. Like actually open it. And turn pages. And look at the words.


While there was a bit of self-promotion, eerily reminiscent of Billy Graham, and moments of an Anti-Catholic and clergy rhetoric, the sermon was enjoyable and the people were friendly. While I plan on marrying and raising my family in an Orthodox Roman Catholic fashion, complete with child-size veils, rosaries, and motherly-guilt, I am open to exploring what seems to be a warm and welcoming place. Maybe even joining a small-group and do a little hand-raisin'.


I know my roots, but who said I can't spread my wings and see what this big ole' city has to offer.


If you're in the Raleigh-Durham area, check out The Summit Church. It has various locations throughout the cities and offers wonderful services. Bring a friend, a cup of coffee, and an open mind, and you might find yourself rockin' out with Jesus too.