More and more often I’m asked, with some amount of incredulity, if I’m religious. Or my friends are asked that about me.

There was a time I’d dilute my answer by saying I wasn’t religious, I was spiritual. It sounded better. Less nun-like. But in truth, I didn’t get the difference.

There are many who define the difference for me, such as:

Spirituality involves a personal quest for meaning in life, while religion involves an organized entity with rituals and practices focusing on a higher power or God.

Religion and spirituality offer distinct paths to truth, with religion being more structured and faith-based, while spirituality is personal, flexible, and centered on inner growth

I’m religious. With a wing in spirituality.

I’ve great faith in St Joseph. I’m say the rosary. And my she-cave is a chapel. I go to mass on Sundays. I take communion. And I observe Lent.

Certainly, there is much I disagree with in the Catholic church. I recognise that it’s a man-made institution with all its inherent faults. Is anyone ever truly happy with any organisation they belong to? Republican? Democrat? County committee? School board? I doubt it.

I have been verbally attacked for being a card-carrying Catholic on more than one occasion, the conversation springboarding from mentioning something innocent like I couldn’t do X because I had to go to mass.

I get it.

Some people hate the church. They hate religion. They hate Catholicism in particular. If taking it out on me makes them feel better, have at it.

My religion is with my God. I can’t imagine living my life without believing, without my faith.  My life. My faith.

I know there are those on the cusp of religion looking in. Those with questions. Those who wonder at the peace faith brings even in the light of the lunacy we’re living in. If ever you want to talk, I’m here.

I follow a page on Facebook called Sad Jesus.

This post struck me…