From the Desk of Brian Kraker, Assistant Opinions Editor

Church was never a large part of my life. No tyrannical regime enforced my weekly attendance at Mass, but rarely did I miss a Sunday sermon. I participated in youth group meetings and even taught a Sunday school class, but Christianity never truly impacted my personal life.

I was raised Protestant, but my church lost the rebellious fervor of the sect's ancestors and lacked the intensity of the south's radical evangelists. Instead, my pastor preached the most generic brand of Christianity. The sanctuary was never filled with apocalyptic predictions or scriptures of eternal damnation; rather, my pastor stressed Jesus and basic teachings of kindness, which can be found in any child's picture book. For me, communion was barely more than a glorified loaf of Wonder bread and a goblet of grape juice (because even the children of God are subject to the state drinking age).

As a high school student, Protestants and Catholics were always portrayed as black and white, right and wrong, the Rebel Alliance versus the Empire. When I began to attend school here at Fordham University, I might as well have been taking classes on the Death Star.

While Luke and Han disguise their identity with Storm Trooper uniforms, my white, middle class Fordham-student exterior allows me to easily fade into a sea of Catholics. For the most part I can fake being a Catholic with my best impression of the Yankees first-base coach and a rosary. However, I cannot hide my faith from Fordham indefinitely. On Ash Wednesday, when students are stamped with the black seal of Catholicism, my pristine forehead stands out on a campus of blessed peers.    

Every Sunday I avoid Mass like an ex-girlfriend at Mugz's. I spend more time with Jesus in a blue book during my theology midterm than in church. Still, my duties as a tour guide lead me to frequent the sanctuary on a weekly basis. I lead families through the hollow stone walls and past the empty pews, promoting the Catholic traditions I barely practice. While mothers marvel at the gothic architecture and ornate stained-glass windows, the church deteriorates to nothing more than a hallowed selling point in my college pitch to prospective students. If the Sunday morning church bells had not awoken me in my Queen's Court room freshman year, I could easily have forgotten the church was in use.

Two Sundays ago, I attended my first Mass at Fordham, the 9 p.m. service at the University Church. As a member of GO! Nashville, I participated in the commissioning ceremony preceding Sunday Mass. Attending church was not mandatory, but I tagged along with my teammates. The decision to join my friends was made out of proximity; I was already in the basement, so why not sit upstairs for an hour? I never avoided church due to religious reasons, but because of immature procrastination and laziness.

 I carried into that church with me every misguided misconception that an ignorant Protestant could believe. I thought the communion wafer was nothing more than a revered Ritz cracker and the sign of the cross an adaptation of the Hand Jive.

My lack of Catholic upbringing was on display throughout Mass, as I fumbled over the wording of prayers and disrupted the harmony of the hymns. Later, Father Mossa declared that God is present at Fordham, "even on the Ram Van," applying Jesuit teachings to everyday situations across campus. Following the sermon, he directed the blessing of the GO! Teams. As I turned around to confront my peers, I saw the faces of my friends, classmates, and professors. The church was filled with Fordham's diverse community, looking at me, arms outstretched, supporting my impending trip to Nashville. That night was not about the epic saga of Catholics versus Protestants: it was about community.  

I left the church without a religious epiphany but with an appreciation for the church I so vehemently evaded. The sanctuary of that church assembled the most diverse collection of students I have yet to find at Fordham, a sense of community absent in my Fordham experience to that point. While there is no impending Catholic conversion in my future, I certainly will be back this Sunday.