By all accounts, I shouldn't be a devout Catholic, I should've been more of a communist rebel or at least a leftist activist. At young age, I had everything going for me to become a rebel. I came from a poor family but moved in a circle dominated by kids from well-to-do families. I knew first-hand the thousand humiliations of being materially inferior.

Couple this with another sense of inferiority: physical. I was the proverbial ugly duckling. I grew up in a family where being mestizo or mestiza was openly preferred and extolled. Growing up bitter was written in my stars, so to speak.

I also grew up with a father who seemed to me to be distant and also struck me as a disciplinarian, militaristic type. I hardly saw a loving God the father in him. I also developed a lack of self-esteem.

It didn't make sense to believe in a loving God. It didn't make sense to have faith. And yet, despite these twin wounds that ran deep inside me, I became the good boy, the nice guy, the one who wanted to please everyone. It wasn't obvious to me then, but I apparently was hungry for love and acceptance. And aside from that, I became a religious kind of guy, a churchy person. Apparently, I too was trying to win God's love and approval.

I am not sure how or why I ended up being so, so today is perhaps a good time to trace it.

(To be continued)