It Runs in the Family Read Online Free Page B

It Runs in the Family
Book: It Runs in the Family Read Online Free
Author: Frida Berrigan
Pages:
Go to
Catholicism—the kind of thing my mom did with her very proper Catholic family as a child. But in the well-worn dining room of a busy soup kitchen, homeless shelter, and revolutionary Christian laboratory, the words, gestures, and fellowship were a healing balm after a long day of comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable. Here is where saying the rosary finally made sense to me.
    Now my husband and I belong to All Souls Unitarian Universalist Congregation in New London, and Seamus and Madeline are being brought up within this incredible community. We bounce out of bed on Sunday mornings, ready to go to church. We often volunteer as greeters—handing out programs, making sure everyone gets settled comfortably, and collecting the offering.
    Patrick is an atheist. He doesn’t believe there is a higher power who watches over us or cares about us. He says that he doesn’t need to believe in God to be a good person; he doesn’t need an ancient book to tell him what is moral. Patrick believes that we can find all the guidance and moral leadership we need in always asking the question “How can I help?” The ritual of the Catholic Mass is off-putting to him. It would be hard to get him to go to Mass with me, but we both find comfort, fellowship, and food for thought within All Souls’s vibrant, progressive, and genuinely welcoming congregation. There is room there for what we each believe. I do miss communion and the long stretches of contemplation that are part of the Catholic Mass. I am not alone. All Souls’s congregation is full of people who were raised Catholic, but are lapsed for lots of reasons. I’m not lapsed: I am a Catholic in waiting—waiting for my Church to remember the Gospels, to be a justice- and peace-seeking community, to be fully inclusive of women, and to be welcoming to people who are not heteronormative. Pope Francis is a step in the right direction, but there is a long way to go.
    Until then, I will say the rosary, make time for prayer, and attend All Souls. And we will raise our kids to be knowledgeable and respectful of all religious traditions and practices, and help answer their questions as they find their own paths of meaning.

GENERATIONS
    I badly needed to go to the bathroom. I ducked into Starbucks on Seventh Avenue in Brooklyn. As I stepped through the doors into the icy air conditioning, I heard a familiar song:
God of the poor man, this is how the day began
Eight codefendants, I Daniel Berrigan ….
And all my country saw
Were priests who broke the law
First it was a question, then it was a mission
How to be American, how to be a Christian ….
    Yep, Starbucks was playing my song, the song about my Uncle Dan. Dar Williams’s song “I Had No Right” is a ballad to the Catonsville Nine, who were arrested in May 1968 after raiding a draft board office outside Baltimore and burning thousands of draft records with homemade napalm. That all happened more than forty five years ago, but people—Catholics mostly—still remember. I brace myself in situations where I am meeting a lot of new people. I want people to know my family history but, at the same time, I also want to live on my own terms. Most of the questions come from men of a certain age, who ask variations on “any relation?” when they hear that my last name is Berrigan.
    Growing up, we would visit Uncle Dan at his apartment on 98th Street in New York City. Dad would park our little red Volvo (we called her Susie) on the street and every hour or so he would go check on it. Good thing too, because one time a guy tried to sell him a battery. Turns out it was Little Susie’s battery. We would bring all our belongings into the building, up eleven stories in the elevator, and we would fill Uncle Dan’s small apartment with all our bags. Otherwise they would be stolen.
    We loved these times with our uncle, when Mom and Dad would relax and laugh and enjoy Dan’s amazing food and strong drinks. We would each wait
Go to

Readers choose