TO BE OR NOT TO BE

t was really cold. And dark, with more than just the hint of rain. And finding parking was a futile attempt considering half the cars were parked illegally in the most random, haphazard pattern available. And yet despite the intemperate weather, over a thousand people crowded into the church and surrounding lot. It never ceases to amaze me how the Vietnamese Catholic faith is so unyielding in its dictates. The old as well as the young were present. Three generations were gathered together to celebrate the Feast of the Vietnamese Martyrs.

The service started with a procession around the church, one that everyone joined in despite the biting wind. Led by church elders in ceremonial robes carrying a replica of the martyred saints on a raised platform, the procession was accompanied by pounding drums and chanted prayers. Once inside, not one, but seven priests conducted the two hour ceremony. Following that, there was an additional hour of speeches, plays, and other light entertainment. Not your usual Sunday mass, or is it?

Perhaps the above is the best representation of what it means to be a Vietnamese Catholic. The elaborateness of the ceremony, the prodigious amount of time and labor involved, the overwhelming participation, are all testaments to how seriously Vietnamese Catholics take their faith. There are none of the light and self-mocking tones often found in other Roman Catholic communities. Even the regular Sunday services are imbued with a solemn atmosphere to match the serious faces of the congregation.

For the older generation, devotion to their faith is an all-consuming affair with little room for disagreement. Religious observance does not end with weekly attendance at Sunday services but continues into everyday life. My grandparents not only attend services daily but also engage in nightly Rosaries and other prayers. For my prents, born and raised in Vietnam, the Catholic faith is a central tenet of life. Their insistence on Catholic shchools and Catholic dictates originated from their own strict religious upbringing. But what of my generation, the Vietnaese American Catholic?

I find that those of us who spend the vast majority, if not all, of our lives here have a different perspective on our faith. While parents and grandparents gather to celebrate their faith, the young congregate to talk, gossip, flirt, and display their finery. Not that we intend any disrespect. Services are never marred by any unruly youths. But pre-and post-services are a different story. I find myself wondering whether the reasons we follow our faith are now purely secular ones. Among my generation, religion seems more a matter of habit and parental appeasement than one of faith. I hear jokes about surviving Catholic school, about the guilt, about Christmas-Easter Catholics. Are these the signs of disillusionment, of the pervasive American influence?

I used to think of myself as a good Catholic. I didn't blatantly disobey any guidelines, I attended services, did my share of community service, and didn't quesiton my faith. But now after four years of college, of parental absence, of growth and exploration, I wonder if my past actions were those of an unthinking child raised to be a good Catholic.

And now I have questions. I do not know any longer if my beliefs are as strong as in the past. I have no unshakeable inner faith to rely on, to support me. In addition, I have no nagging suspicion that my questions are not really my questions but rather what the loose structure of American culture has given me.

I used to think that the largest problem with American Catholics was the disillusionment of their younger generation. The light and self-mocking tone of their religious practices was a sign of the greater emptiness in their faith. Now I think the same is happening to the Catholics of my generation. Is this then what it means to be a Vietnamese Catholic? I certainy hope not. I yearn for the total conviction of my parents and the substance of their beliefs. Perhaps it is better to be a Vietnamese Catholic.