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I'm not a theologian, or historian of Christianity, however I was once a Roman Catholic and during that dark period of my life (which were for the first 16 years) I pondered frequently about this very question mostly while in public religion school doing the biblical crossword puzzles, circling groups of letters that spelled a mild profanity or as close as I could get.
Anyways ...
During these very meditative exercises I stumbled upon the answer to this great dilemma, and told everyone that would lend their ear to me for about 20 minutes. I remember one crisp November morning I brought it up to the Archbishop of the Dioceses (William B. Friend) in Shreveport, Louisiana.
I explained it to him in great detail and the entire time he sat very quietly, hardly moving a muscle even when that pesky fruit fly kept flying around his left eye landing on his forehead occasionally. After I had finished telling him my incredible epiphany he stood very quickly, with sweat on his brow.
He asked me to not speak of it again until he had a chance to hold a meeting with "some people".
His tone was one of seriousness and astonishment, so I was confident that I had gotten through to him and before long I would be the most popular 12 year old in the Catholic Church all over the world. I'd even get to meet the Pope and we'd have deep philosophical conversations.
Later on that evening when I returned home from school my parents asked me to be seated in the living room area.
When I entered there was the Bishop, and also the Monsignor "Monsignor Lacasse" was his name to be exact, sitting there with the violet trim on his cassock and biretta, signifying his honorary status with a smug look on his face.
The Monsignor and myself never got along ever since the incident when he was baptizing me when I was an infant, I puked breast milk all over him, and a peed a little too. And from that day forward the man has been out to get me I tell you!
So, there we were...me, my parents, the Archbishop and Monsignor Lacasse.
I looked around and said "What's going on here?"
My father told me that the Archbishop had told him and my mother some very disturbing news, about something that I had said to him in his office. I said "Disturbing? Why would it be disturbing? I thought it was one of the fundamental questions in all of Catholicism, and now that I have discovered the answer in a moment of pure and total clarity, a clarity that was bestowed upon me by the lord our mighty God himself, you (pointing at the Archbishop) have come to the conclusion that what I've said is disturbing? ... BLASPHEMY! I tell you, sheer blasphemy! And you call yourselves servants of God? Distinguished men of the cloth?! Blasphemy!!!"
My father shoots up from the sofa, and places his hands tightly over my mouth while apologizing profusely to the Archbishop and the Monsignor who are by this time wide-eyed and slack jawed by my sudden outburst.
As if coming out of a trance they blink and rise to their feet looking rather flustered, and walk out of the house without saying a single word.
I was sent to my room for the remainder of the evening, a few hours later I dosed off while reading "Absalom, Absalom!".
I woke the next morning to the sound of the telephone, I could hear my mother say "Hello?" a long pause and then a shrill of terror echoed through the house. I jumped out of bed and down the hall way to find my mother collapsed on the kitchen floor sobbing uncontrollably. I asked "Mom, mom...what's the matter???" and the only broken words she could get out was "You.... (sob...sobsob) ex ... (sob...sobsob...sob) comm ...un (sob...sobsob)...i ...ca (sob...sobsob)...TION! (sobbing...sob)" and I said "Excommunion??? You mean I don't have to take communion anymore?! Yeeeeah! Those wafers tasted horrible! Thank you God! And Jesus too! I guess the Archbishop and the Monsignor finally came to their senses and they aren't mad at me after all, wow!"
About that time my father walked through the door, and ran over to my mother who was still doubled over and she said "EXCOMMUNICATION!!!" while pointing at me.
I looked at my dad and said "No more wafers! I'll talk with the Archbishop to see if he can get you and mom out of it too!"
He looked at me and said "No! Not Excommunion! EXCOMMUNICATION!!!" Spiritual condemnation! banishment, shunning, and SHAME!!!"
So, I ran away from home and they've never seen or heard from me again ... and that's been 18 years ago.
The End
The moral of this story is Christianity is made-up, just like the 781 words above.
--Steve
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