I don't go to church, unless it is a special occasion and I'm required to attend at the behest of good friends or family. I haven't made church part of my weekly ritual since before I left home for the military. It had nothing to do with Matthew's verse. Truth be told, at eleven years of age I wasn't going to learn Latin so I could understand Sunday Mass, and everything in the Bible, save the Ten Commandments, was totally Greek to me. No, I wasn't going to learn Greek, either. My last stint of "scheduled" Sunday Mass was back in 1965, if memory serves. That was when Mother Superior at St. Angeles Catholic School thought I would reap more benefit from a secular educational system. Yep, at the ripe old age of eleven, I was such a pain in the ass even the Catholic nuns gave up on me. Hey, lucky me! But this incident would have a lasting impact my young mind, on my view of tolerance and hypocrisy in religion. Church and I parted ways and I developed a stronger, more personal relationship with Christ and God.
To read the rest of the post, please follow this link to my blog, "The Path": Going to Church