I NEVER EXPECTED TO FEEL THIS WAY
By Jackie Hogan

Like most people born on the North Shore, I grew up Catholic. Seven years in Catholic school, church on Sunday, confession, plaid skirt, knee-highs, and visions of being the May Queen. My grandmother prayed three rosaries a day and believed French kissing was a sin. Catholic School repressed my individuality. Sr. Agnes disapproved of my red shoes, purple lip gloss, and certainly when I rolled my knee-highs down to my ankles alien-style. Sr. Hiltruda informed me that I was a "freak of nature" followed by "I don't like you, but I love you." In those seven years, Fr. MacLaughlin never said a word to me outside the confession box. I actually believed God reserved a spot in hell for me because I shared my communion with a girl who hadn't made her First Holy Communion yet. Church bored me beyond belief and I hummed the hymns in my head to pass the time. Being Catholic did not support me as a child and I remain bitter. When I graduated from parochial school in 8th grade, I packed away my rosary beads and kissed Catholicism good-bye. Since then, I've evolved from a uniformed girl in knee-highs to a spiritual urban hipster who embraces all of humanity (if I do say so myself).

I came to the Mass of Rededication to work. I'm a videographer and was hired to record the Mass. For the past year now, I've been recording and editing footage from different events in response to the crisis, including the Solidarity March shown at the first VOTF conference. I recently committed myself to producing a full length documentary on the crisis, a project I hope will be an instrument of healing for survivors, hurt Catholics and anyone who has been affected by what has happened. Recording the Mass of Rededication was not part of the documentary, although I was very interested in witnessing the event.

I did not intend nor want to work on this documentary. I was hired multiple times for small projects. Obviously, the subject matter is of great importance and I felt honored to be given the opportunity - more importantly, the trust. But there was the whole "Catholic" thing, the bad taste in my mouth, the salt in my wounds, the "common" folk sitting in rows while one big important male preached from the front. And where was the voice of the children?

Over the course of this year, I softened. I began to feel connected, compassionate, and committed. The words of one survivor will change you forever - that's what happened to me (and it wasn't just one survivor, it was many). I know how much being Catholic hurt me as a child and my trite complaints are pale in the shadow of what survivors have endured. Also, I couldn't believe the number of Catholics devoting incredible amounts of time and energy to supporting survivors. Catholics who were not victimized and who did not have family members who were victimized - Catholics who were simply ordinary people committed to creating extraordinary changes.

It became obvious that the events I had been documenting would weave into a story that could benefit many people. Since I began working on this documentary, my life has been graced with many gifts and opportunities. In a few short months, I had support from advocates and survivors, donated office space, approval from the Center for Independent Documentary, and three incredible interns. I knew from the events unfolding I made the right decision and that spirit flowed through me, but I felt something was missing. In my 29 years, I've never once felt devoid of spirituality, but when I kissed the Church good-bye, I must have left Jesus behind too because that's what was missing.

How could I possibly be working on a documentary about the clergy sexual abuse scandal without connecting with Jesus?

Reluctantly, I included Jesus in my prayers for the first time of my own volition and not because it was what I was supposed to do. I prayed to Jesus because I wanted to and believe me when I tell you that it was not easy. It's even harder to share it with you now. I prayed to feel the love of Christ within me and that my work would be an instrument of His will. I prayed that I use my will with a clear intent for the benefit of everyone concerned.

The connection began on Good Friday. Again, I was working, this time on the documentary. While I was recording the Stations of the Cross at the Chancery, I began to feel heavy, tired, emotional, and even tearful. I went home and cried. I spent the rest of the day in a quiet solitude. I called a friend who is also a teacher and asked how I could connect with Jesus. She told me to pray.

While I was recording the Mass of Rededication, I began to feel a beautiful energy within the room. I was resistant to this feeling because I still do not like church. When I pray in a group, I prefer sitting in a circle. I began to accept that everyone in the church was there because they wanted to be there, they believed in the importance of their actions, and they share a vision for the future. Someone wept and a wave of emotion flowed through me. I was no longer just working. I was part of something much greater than me and I could feel this very clearly. I felt Jesus in the room with all of us and I was grateful. I received communion for the first time in over ten years.

My prayer now is to integrate a relationship with Jesus into my daily walk and my work, to join my walk with my work. I'm honored to be part of this transformation, to contribute in what I hope is a meaningful way, and I thank all of you for your continued efforts.

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