Mom, Religion and Billy Graham

My Mom was a spiritual person.

She believed in God. She prayed. She read the Bible. She made sure I knew the Lord’s Prayer and believed in God.

But I know she had her doubts.

A single Mom at the age of 33. Lost her Mom at age 34. Fought hard to bring her Father to the United States (ages 35-37) and then cared for him until his death 18 years later.

A failed marriage. Several failed relationships. Personal failings. Sickness. She had plenty of reasons to have doubts.

Still, whatever doubts she may have had about faith, her belief and love of God never wavered.

The passing this morning of Billy Graham has me thinking about Mom and her faith. I remember as a child, she should would watch his crusades on TV and sometimes force me to watch as well. She also watched preachers like Oral Roberts and Robert Schuller. I know for certain she sent money to Oral Roberts, because I remember seeing his “material” in the house from time to time. I’m not sure if she sent money to the others, but she probably did.

She raised me as a Baptist. We didn’t go to Church regularly, but we absolutely went on Easter Sunday. And because she would buy me a new suit every Easter, we would go a few more times throughout the year.

She would play “Church” music on Sunday mornings while making breakfast. She would listen to sermons on the radio or watch the aforementioned preachers on television while she cleaned up from breakfast. She may not have gone to Church often, but that didn’t stop her from practicing her faith…in her way.

While I was raised Baptist, I also had a deep understanding and upbringing in the Jewish religion. I went to Temple on a few occasions, celebrated Jewish holidays and was taught about the Jewish faith by one of the wisest men I have ever known, Harry Lieberman. I’ve written about “Grandpa” previously. He lived to be 106 years ‘mature’. In the few years I had with him, he taught me a great deal about faith.

As I grew older my feelings on religion evolved. I went to a High School that was in an area that was predominantly Catholic. I fell in love (yes, with a girl) and we were together for a long time. I wanted to marry her in the Church. So, I went to adult Church school to covert. Needless to say, I didn’t get married. I did convert.

In many ways, I’m a lot like my Mom when it comes to faith. I don’t go to Church much. I try to be a good Catholic…during Lent. Every year I give up something and I don’t eat meat on Friday’s. And I try to go to Church. The latter rarely happens, and I need to get better about that. And for many years I would go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. Now I watch it from home every year. I know…I’m a model Catholic.

Before my Mom died, I took her to Church with me a few times. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a Baptist Church…she just loved the fact that I was embracing religion/God. And no, I never did tell her why I became a Catholic. It didn’t matter to her. She was just happy that God was a part of my life.

One Saturday, just prior to her becoming really sick, I brought her to New York City for the day. We had lunch with an old friend and then I took her to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I could tell she really enjoyed being there. We didn’t get to sit through a service, but we walked the Cathedral, which even then wasn’t easy for her. Then we sat in a pew, praying. We didn’t speak. I was praying to God to help her and we all know she was praying to God to help me. It was and always will be one of the most cherished memories I hold in my heart.

I’m not really sure there’s a point to this rambling Blog post other than to mark the passing of a man who touch millions of people, including my Mom.

And I guess in a small way…me as well.