Religion & my Dad

All around the country today, thousands paid homage to the Virgen of Guadalupe. I would never have become privy to this holiday had it not been for a phone call from my dad--"I'll be at church tonight from 11-12", he said. "What? Why? Whatever, I'll go see you," was my response.

I decided to go check out what this was all about.

A few months back, my dad got "tapped" by this odd religious group within the Catholic church. They only contact men who were social service leaders to basically be glorified altar boys during big Catholic events. I thought it was weird that my dad would get called on for this holiday since he was neither Mexican nor Catholic.

My dad told me about the phone call. It was random, from someone to whom he had never spoken but who knew everything about him. He had been Googled hard. For about the past five years, my dad has really stepped up his public service. It started with one recurring annual project but then, as several big name natural disasters hit, my dad found himself with the connections and most of all the inspiration to do something about it. He stepped into a few leadership positions and honestly, to the surprise of all (ahem, his family) who know him as a self-centered, driven, ass-hole--succeeded incredibly. He raised record amounts and was able to coordinate organizations that had never previously thought to collaborate.

He accumulated accolade after accolade and has recently come to be known as a 'spokesperson' for several causes within the non-profit sector. He manages to still work as hard at his business. Honestly, I can hate him for certain reasons as a father, but it's hard to not love him as human being. I guess its the way I am too--full of irreconcilable paradoxes.

When my dad told me he had chosen to join, I asked why? You've never been religious. He said, I don't know why, I think it was the honesty in the man's voice. It's rare to talk to someone and immediately get the sense that what they are asking you for is really all for what they are asking. I knew he had no agenda or purpose other than to serve his community. I could not but say yes to him. I was floored. My dad had never said that about anyone. In fact, I knew he wouldn't even say that about me. Is that what people call a moment of faith?

So I went tonight. What the hell, right? I mean how often does this happen? Plus, I was kinda bored and the guys on Manhunt weren't all that tempting either :p

As I started to approach the cathedral, I realized quickly the magnitude of the event. The crowd occupied blocks and blocks. The smells of Mexican food permeated everything. It was like a huge Holy carnival, or like the religious version of a state fair. Kids had little light up toys, and instead of cotton candy, people were munching on churros and tamales. Everyone seemed happy and to be having a good time, despite the obvious overtone of respect for the Virgin--of whom there were images everywhere. Having grown up a fire-and-brimstone protestant who looked down on the pagan Catholics, I was floored at how much fun these folks were having with their religion. No Bible beatings or guilt trips about tithing. Nope--just plain, simple, and straight forward commercialism.

As I moved through the crowd, I got a text from my dad. The cathedral has been sealed. Go to bed. I'll see you some other time. I texted him back. I'm here.

I'll find a way in.

When I came upon the cathedral, I saw that the front doors were shut tightly, as if the place were closed. Still, the crowds didn't leave. They were like a large moat that had grown into an ocean around the building. The media was everywhere too. I felt ignorant and stupid. Don't I know about everything that's important? I mean, I pride myself on even knowing about the cultures of others. How as I so unaware? I pushed my way through trying to find the side doors.

As I rounded the corner, I saw a huge line--at least 6 or 8 people across--wrapping around the entire courtyard and then continuing outwards towards the street. Holy shit, there's no way. As I was turning around, I decided to try again anyway. How hard can it be to get into a church? It's not like its a concert or anything.

As I tried to weasel my way in, a large gruff man, stopped me and said, Sir, this is an exit only. I gave him puppy dog eyes, but he didn't budge. I managed to side step him enough to see just how big the cathedral was. The exit was not even within sight-distance of the front altar.

I turned around and noticed that my dad had texted me again. He wrote, "I'm at the very front, in the first row." Fuck. Well, I guess I can at least say that I was here and tried. As I turned to leave, I thought, Oh come on, Tino, you can get over this one. It just can't be too hard.

So I turned around and circumvented the crowd again, and found a little corner where there were bathrooms. Odd, outdoor entrances to bathrooms within the building? Worth exploring.

As I moved closer I saw in a dark niche a handicap entrance. Bingo.

I pulled on the door--DRATS--it was locked. It was a double door, so I tried the second one. PRESTO.

As I tugged on the handle, I realized that I had opened the door that directly faced the altar and pulpit. Holy shit. I was a little too successful, as my eyes adjusted to the bright lights, I noticed that someone was standing right next to the door.

He was pulling something out from his pocket and crouching at the same time. It was a phone and he was about to start texting. IT WAS MY DAD!

He looked up, freaked, and then broke into the biggest smile. He quickly came up to hug me as his smile turned into a mischievous grin. HAHA, yea, I had found a way in.

"Hey dad," I said, as I hugged him back. "Congrats." He could barely utter the words, "You can't be here too long before the fire marshal comes to kick you out."

Haha, I chuckled, as I pulled out my cam, and said, "Okay, but I'm least getting a picture of you in that get up." He smiled, and looking all campy, posed.

Then I hugged him one last time, and put my face next to his. As I was pulling up and away, I kissed him on the cheek. It wasn't sexy, I just felt close to him.

No one else in the fam had come to see him, and after a long workday that had ended for him only an hour before, he had dragged himself all the way out to a different part of the city, just to participate in this odd mystic event. I was proud.

Over the past few years, pretty much everyone in the fam has distanced themselves from my father. No one can seem to forgive him for all that he has done wrong. I don't know why though, but as I've aged, I've come to realize just how tough my dad's life has been. I can't imagine how someone can go through as much as he did, and still managed to have accomplished so much. Were mistakes bound to occur? Of course. Were they bound to hurt? Of course. Did that mean that he was anything less than human. Never. And as such, for me, he deserves all of the mercy and forgiveness accorded to someone who is desperately trying to get life right--no matter how late or hard it gets. My dad's presence--in some foreign yet uberly meaningful event--was a symbol of how hard he tried to do right in the world, despite all his shortcomings. For never giving up--on life, himself, or the power of good will towards others--I love my dad.