For most of my life every Sunday morning I found myself in a pew of my Church. Raised a strict Catholic I didn’t have much of a choice. It was attend Church or get out of the house. So off to Mass I would go. Just reminiscing about sitting in that that hot, stuffy, and uncomfortable place can make me irritable. Up until I was probably fifteen years of age I despised going to mass simply because I hated being uncomfortable and loosing precious Sunday morning sleep. It was sometime around fifteen years of age that I truly began to despise going to Church for reasons worth giving some thought to. Right around that time is when I actually started to listen to what the priests were saying in their homilies. I could not believe that I had to sit there and listen to these Priests attempt to force, what I considered grossly ignorant teachings, down my throat. Within the following two years, as I grew up and drew more of my own conclusions on the ways of the world I was forced, still, to attend those Mass’s. Each week I would sit in there and look around myself in disbelief. I couldn’t fathom the idea that the whole congregation was really that ignorant. Then one Sunday morning I went to a different church with my cousins for Mass. It was that Mass that hinted me toward the reality of the situation within the Catholic Community.