Sunday, April 27, 2008
The Gospel of Matthew
A vein of theology infecting the Church today makes an attempt to discern who the "real" authors of the Gospels were and when they wrote. One of the claims is that the Gospel of Matthew, long considered to be the first Gospel (by Matthew, hence the name), was actually written after 70 AD by an author who was not a disciple of Jesus. This claim is based on the facts that Matthew and Mark are so similar to each other that one must have been copied from the other and the inclusion of the predicted destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in the Gospel of Matthew which did occur in 70 AD.
Papias, bishop of Heirapolis, who was a student of the Apostle John and a companion of Polycarp (also a student of John), wrote that Matthew was the first to record a Gospel in writing, which he did for the Israelites in the Hebrew language. Irenaeus, bishop of Lyon, wrote "Against Heresies" at the end of the Second Century. To the best of my knowledge that has never been disputed. In it he said:
Matthew published his gospel among the Hebrews in their own tongue, when Peter and Paul were preaching the Gospel in Rome and founding the church there. After their departure Mark, the disciple and interpreter of Peter, himself handed down to us in writing the substance of Peter's preaching. Luke, the follower of Paul, set down in a book the gospel preached by his teacher. Then John, the disciple of the Lord, who also leaned on his breast, himself produced his gospel, while he was living at Ephesus in Asia.
There is a lot of information we can glean about the dating of the Gospels from this writing. Peter and Paul were both martyred in 67, so we know that Matthew wrote his gospel before that date. Mark wrote his gospel after that year because the people of Rome loved Peter so much they insisted Mark record his teachings. It is plausible that Mark and Luke were writing their Gospels at the same time. John wrote his gospel sometime before 74 because that is when he left Ephesus. We must be able to assume the accuracy of Ireneaus's statements because of his proximity to the events. If one should question his accuracy by virtue of being recorded some one and a quarter century later, I will offer the example of Emily Dickenson as a response. She did not publish more than a dozen of her poems during her own life time, but today (122 years after her death), we know with strong authority that she wrote the poems generally credited to her based on our proximity to the event and the witness of persons close to her.
First let's establish the authority of the Epistle to the Romans. It is universally accepted without question that Paul is the author of this epistle. Eusebius, in "The History of the Church" dates Paul's execution to 67 AD, which is generally accepted as accurate. Paul makes four clear references to the Gospel of Matthew in his Epistle to the Romans. In Romans 9:5 Paul wrote "...theirs (the Israelites) the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, is the Messiah." This statement is a reference to Matthew's genealogy of Jesus found in 1:1-16. Again, Romans 12:14 finds Paul exhorting the faithful to "Bless those who persecute, bless and do not curse them." This is exactly what Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount found in Matthew 5:38-48. In Romans Chapter Two Paul entreats Christians to abstain from judgment of others and follow the path of a true disciple in the same manner Jesus did in the end of the Sermon on the Mount (7:1-5, 21-23). This is not an exhaustive list by any means, but it suffices to present the argument that the Gospel according to Matthew was written before the year 67, not after the year 70.
Philo was a Jewish philosopher from the city of Alexandria. Although he was trained in the Greek tradition, his emphasis was on the Jewish canon of Holy Scripture. Born in 20 BC he died in 50 AD. This is all significant to Matthew's Gospel because of one of the things Philo observed about the church in Alexandria:
They read the sacred scriptures, and study their ancestral wisdom philosophically, allegorizing it, since they regard the literal sense as symbolic of a hidden reality revealed in figures. They posses also short works by early writers, the founders of their sect, who left many specimens of the allegorical method, which they take as their models, following the system on which their predecessors worked.
Paul’s writings are universally given dates of authorship after the death of Philo, so we can exclude any of his writings from those Philo mentions. The Letter of James is concerned almost exclusively with moral conduct, not with allegorical interpretation, so it, likewise, may be excluded. 1 & 2 Peter are dated to the mid Sixties, also too late. All three of John's letters are given a date in the late First Century along with Jude. The Revelation to St. John is well known to be from the Apostle John while exiled on the Island of Patmos, so it may also be excluded from consideration of what Philo was referring to. That leaves us with the Gospel of Matthew, which fills the bill exactly, written by a founder of the sect with many specimens of allegorical interpretation!
Papias, bishop of Heirapolis, who was a student of the Apostle John and a companion of Polycarp (also a student of John), wrote that Matthew was the first to record a Gospel in writing, which he did for the Israelites in the Hebrew language. Irenaeus, bishop of Lyon, wrote "Against Heresies" at the end of the Second Century. To the best of my knowledge that has never been disputed. In it he said:
Matthew published his gospel among the Hebrews in their own tongue, when Peter and Paul were preaching the Gospel in Rome and founding the church there. After their departure Mark, the disciple and interpreter of Peter, himself handed down to us in writing the substance of Peter's preaching. Luke, the follower of Paul, set down in a book the gospel preached by his teacher. Then John, the disciple of the Lord, who also leaned on his breast, himself produced his gospel, while he was living at Ephesus in Asia.
There is a lot of information we can glean about the dating of the Gospels from this writing. Peter and Paul were both martyred in 67, so we know that Matthew wrote his gospel before that date. Mark wrote his gospel after that year because the people of Rome loved Peter so much they insisted Mark record his teachings. It is plausible that Mark and Luke were writing their Gospels at the same time. John wrote his gospel sometime before 74 because that is when he left Ephesus. We must be able to assume the accuracy of Ireneaus's statements because of his proximity to the events. If one should question his accuracy by virtue of being recorded some one and a quarter century later, I will offer the example of Emily Dickenson as a response. She did not publish more than a dozen of her poems during her own life time, but today (122 years after her death), we know with strong authority that she wrote the poems generally credited to her based on our proximity to the event and the witness of persons close to her.
First let's establish the authority of the Epistle to the Romans. It is universally accepted without question that Paul is the author of this epistle. Eusebius, in "The History of the Church" dates Paul's execution to 67 AD, which is generally accepted as accurate. Paul makes four clear references to the Gospel of Matthew in his Epistle to the Romans. In Romans 9:5 Paul wrote "...theirs (the Israelites) the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, is the Messiah." This statement is a reference to Matthew's genealogy of Jesus found in 1:1-16. Again, Romans 12:14 finds Paul exhorting the faithful to "Bless those who persecute, bless and do not curse them." This is exactly what Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount found in Matthew 5:38-48. In Romans Chapter Two Paul entreats Christians to abstain from judgment of others and follow the path of a true disciple in the same manner Jesus did in the end of the Sermon on the Mount (7:1-5, 21-23). This is not an exhaustive list by any means, but it suffices to present the argument that the Gospel according to Matthew was written before the year 67, not after the year 70.
Philo was a Jewish philosopher from the city of Alexandria. Although he was trained in the Greek tradition, his emphasis was on the Jewish canon of Holy Scripture. Born in 20 BC he died in 50 AD. This is all significant to Matthew's Gospel because of one of the things Philo observed about the church in Alexandria:
They read the sacred scriptures, and study their ancestral wisdom philosophically, allegorizing it, since they regard the literal sense as symbolic of a hidden reality revealed in figures. They posses also short works by early writers, the founders of their sect, who left many specimens of the allegorical method, which they take as their models, following the system on which their predecessors worked.
Paul’s writings are universally given dates of authorship after the death of Philo, so we can exclude any of his writings from those Philo mentions. The Letter of James is concerned almost exclusively with moral conduct, not with allegorical interpretation, so it, likewise, may be excluded. 1 & 2 Peter are dated to the mid Sixties, also too late. All three of John's letters are given a date in the late First Century along with Jude. The Revelation to St. John is well known to be from the Apostle John while exiled on the Island of Patmos, so it may also be excluded from consideration of what Philo was referring to. That leaves us with the Gospel of Matthew, which fills the bill exactly, written by a founder of the sect with many specimens of allegorical interpretation!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Swimming the Tiber II
I remember the disappointment I felt with the news that nothing was going to happen until September. There was another devout Catholic at work. He was about ten years older than me and very knowledgeable about the Church. He devoted his college years to learning Church history (other than his college studies, which only included engineering) and encouraged me to read a lot. He always asked if the books I read were published by Ignatius Press. I didn’t understand why that was so important to him, but I do now. I eventually asked him to sponsor me in my confirmation, which he was delighted to do. All summer I eagerly awaited the beginning of RCIA. As usual, I loved it. I loved everything about being Catholic, except that all the people who ran RCIA kept saying that we would become Catholic on Easter. Didn’t they understand? I became Roman Catholic on the day I visited Our Lady of Las Vegas.
My study of the Church began with the Saints. St Francis of Assisi, St. Francis de Sales, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Therese of Lisieux, St. John of the Cross, St. Thomas Merton and the like filled my book shelves. Prayer was an ongoing search for me. I looked everywhere I knew where to. Finally going on a silent retreat at a Carmelite retreat house, I was introduced to the Liturgy of the Hours. I knew instantly that was what I was searching for. I took an interest in the different religious orders and their founders. The realization that history is not about places and dates eventually dawned on me. It is about people. I love people. Since then I have gobbled up history books and another realization came. History is about God. The primary purpose for learning history is to learn the Divine waltz we are dancing, to look back and try to see how God seduces us, how He longs for us and what He does to approach us. How could I have missed that all those years growing up?
My Baptist theology had deep roots though. My complete submission took a full six years, a little at a time, always a little more to go to fully embrace the traditional teachings. I ended up taking the advice of my sponsor and jumped in with both feet on learning Church history. The more I learned, the more I loved it and the more I was able to give myself to the Church. I quickly began to attend Mass at 6:00 PM every Tuesday at St. Joe’s. I was on fire! As soon as I could I became a lector and a Eucharistic minister. For the next three years I helped in RCIA and I helped start a Bible study at St. Francis. For a while I was at church every day of the week, I just couldn’t get enough of it. My primary purpose for becoming a Eucharistic minister was to bring the Eucharist to shut-ins. I wanted to bring it to hospitals, but there were none in my parish bounds, so I took Holy Communion to a couple total care and partial care centers. Eventually I began to bring Holy Communion to the county pokey too, which I found to be my favorite form of service. Our Lady held Mass every morning at 6:30 so I added Fridays to my Mass schedule. A little at a time I began to add more days until I was going to Mass six days a week. I also moved across town, which I used as an excuse to begin going to Mass at St. Joe’s on Sundays. It truly was an excuse because then I had to drive even further to get to church Sunday morning than I would have if I had stayed in St. Francis. I eventually joined the choir at St. Joe’s and took on service at the Shrine of the Most Holy Redeemer (which is on the Las Vegas Strip).
Right after I moved and starting going to St. Joe’s Parish I also became interested in Greek Orthodoxy. On several Sundays I attended both a Catholic Mass and the Divine Liturgy at St. John Greek Orthodox Church (which ended just in time to zip over to the noon Mass at St. Joe’s). The Eastern services were so mystifying! I was also excited to see all the women wearing nice dresses or skirts and all the men wore suits with ties (a few just wore polo shirts or sweaters with jackets, but that was okay too). The vestments were so elaborate and beautiful, incense was used every Sunday, the Liturgy was sung – all of it! and no one left before the end of the service. Everyone got up and kissed the priest’s hand before leaving the sanctuary. It was very exotic! It was also very exciting. I felt transported to another age, another place. I was also learning about history. The Church Councils and the Filioque scandalized me. Having made a close friend who was just returning to the Orthodox Church (He introduced me to blogging. His site is A…Sinner, over in the blog roll) I grew more and more intoxicated with the East. He attended St. Paul’s Russian Orthodox Church on the east side of town (the side I also lived on). We spent a lot of time together and our favorite thing to talk about was the Church. I attended several Divine Liturgies at St. Paul.
After a year or two I finally decided to leave the Latin Church for the Greek. It was such an agonizing debate for me. I loved the Roman Church with every fiber of my being, but I had a tremendous pull towards the Greek Church. It didn’t help that I heard a lot of Anti-Catholic rhetoric at the time. That never affected my love for the Church, but it had a strong impact on my thinking. Maybe I would grow to love the Greek Church as much as I do the Roman, at least I made a habit of telling myself that. Then something strange happened. I felt an overwhelming urge to learn Latin! This from the same person who vehemently denounced the practice of the Roman Church of holding on to an antiquated language that no one could understand for so long. It shocked me, but I figured it was God’s way of telling me to remain in the Latin Church. That was about four years ago. My love for Catholicism has only grown and I have come to form some very definite beliefs about the Filioque (I am no longer scandalized) and the relationship between the East and the West. Reunion remains foremost in my heart. The final turning point for me was in the confessional booth. I was so tired of fighting. For the most part I was on board with the teachings of the Church, but there were just a couple key issues that I hadn’t surrendered on. Only a year previously I had surrendered on the use of birth control. That was probably the hardest to swallow because it still sticks out in my mind. I do not even remember what else I had refused to admit the Roman Catholic Church was right on and I was wrong. That was me just being obstinate.
At the time I was experiencing emotionally the hardest time in my entire life so I turned to the Church more than ever before. I was celebrating the Sacrament of Reconciliation every other week. Only one other person was in line that day, so I only had a short time to make an examination of conscience, so I sat down with a short list. As soon as I sat down a new article for confession came to mind and I told the priest, “I have always considered myself to be the final authority for all matters of faith and theology in my own life and I want to submit to the teachings of the Church.” Six years after that fateful day in Our Lady of Las Vegas I was finally able to give myself fully to Rome and I do not think I have ever been more liberated in my spirituality. Scott Hahn certainly got it right when he said, “Home, sweet Rome.”
My study of the Church began with the Saints. St Francis of Assisi, St. Francis de Sales, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Therese of Lisieux, St. John of the Cross, St. Thomas Merton and the like filled my book shelves. Prayer was an ongoing search for me. I looked everywhere I knew where to. Finally going on a silent retreat at a Carmelite retreat house, I was introduced to the Liturgy of the Hours. I knew instantly that was what I was searching for. I took an interest in the different religious orders and their founders. The realization that history is not about places and dates eventually dawned on me. It is about people. I love people. Since then I have gobbled up history books and another realization came. History is about God. The primary purpose for learning history is to learn the Divine waltz we are dancing, to look back and try to see how God seduces us, how He longs for us and what He does to approach us. How could I have missed that all those years growing up?
My Baptist theology had deep roots though. My complete submission took a full six years, a little at a time, always a little more to go to fully embrace the traditional teachings. I ended up taking the advice of my sponsor and jumped in with both feet on learning Church history. The more I learned, the more I loved it and the more I was able to give myself to the Church. I quickly began to attend Mass at 6:00 PM every Tuesday at St. Joe’s. I was on fire! As soon as I could I became a lector and a Eucharistic minister. For the next three years I helped in RCIA and I helped start a Bible study at St. Francis. For a while I was at church every day of the week, I just couldn’t get enough of it. My primary purpose for becoming a Eucharistic minister was to bring the Eucharist to shut-ins. I wanted to bring it to hospitals, but there were none in my parish bounds, so I took Holy Communion to a couple total care and partial care centers. Eventually I began to bring Holy Communion to the county pokey too, which I found to be my favorite form of service. Our Lady held Mass every morning at 6:30 so I added Fridays to my Mass schedule. A little at a time I began to add more days until I was going to Mass six days a week. I also moved across town, which I used as an excuse to begin going to Mass at St. Joe’s on Sundays. It truly was an excuse because then I had to drive even further to get to church Sunday morning than I would have if I had stayed in St. Francis. I eventually joined the choir at St. Joe’s and took on service at the Shrine of the Most Holy Redeemer (which is on the Las Vegas Strip).
Right after I moved and starting going to St. Joe’s Parish I also became interested in Greek Orthodoxy. On several Sundays I attended both a Catholic Mass and the Divine Liturgy at St. John Greek Orthodox Church (which ended just in time to zip over to the noon Mass at St. Joe’s). The Eastern services were so mystifying! I was also excited to see all the women wearing nice dresses or skirts and all the men wore suits with ties (a few just wore polo shirts or sweaters with jackets, but that was okay too). The vestments were so elaborate and beautiful, incense was used every Sunday, the Liturgy was sung – all of it! and no one left before the end of the service. Everyone got up and kissed the priest’s hand before leaving the sanctuary. It was very exotic! It was also very exciting. I felt transported to another age, another place. I was also learning about history. The Church Councils and the Filioque scandalized me. Having made a close friend who was just returning to the Orthodox Church (He introduced me to blogging. His site is A…Sinner, over in the blog roll) I grew more and more intoxicated with the East. He attended St. Paul’s Russian Orthodox Church on the east side of town (the side I also lived on). We spent a lot of time together and our favorite thing to talk about was the Church. I attended several Divine Liturgies at St. Paul.
After a year or two I finally decided to leave the Latin Church for the Greek. It was such an agonizing debate for me. I loved the Roman Church with every fiber of my being, but I had a tremendous pull towards the Greek Church. It didn’t help that I heard a lot of Anti-Catholic rhetoric at the time. That never affected my love for the Church, but it had a strong impact on my thinking. Maybe I would grow to love the Greek Church as much as I do the Roman, at least I made a habit of telling myself that. Then something strange happened. I felt an overwhelming urge to learn Latin! This from the same person who vehemently denounced the practice of the Roman Church of holding on to an antiquated language that no one could understand for so long. It shocked me, but I figured it was God’s way of telling me to remain in the Latin Church. That was about four years ago. My love for Catholicism has only grown and I have come to form some very definite beliefs about the Filioque (I am no longer scandalized) and the relationship between the East and the West. Reunion remains foremost in my heart. The final turning point for me was in the confessional booth. I was so tired of fighting. For the most part I was on board with the teachings of the Church, but there were just a couple key issues that I hadn’t surrendered on. Only a year previously I had surrendered on the use of birth control. That was probably the hardest to swallow because it still sticks out in my mind. I do not even remember what else I had refused to admit the Roman Catholic Church was right on and I was wrong. That was me just being obstinate.
At the time I was experiencing emotionally the hardest time in my entire life so I turned to the Church more than ever before. I was celebrating the Sacrament of Reconciliation every other week. Only one other person was in line that day, so I only had a short time to make an examination of conscience, so I sat down with a short list. As soon as I sat down a new article for confession came to mind and I told the priest, “I have always considered myself to be the final authority for all matters of faith and theology in my own life and I want to submit to the teachings of the Church.” Six years after that fateful day in Our Lady of Las Vegas I was finally able to give myself fully to Rome and I do not think I have ever been more liberated in my spirituality. Scott Hahn certainly got it right when he said, “Home, sweet Rome.”
Friday, April 11, 2008
Swimming the Tiber
My dad was born into a devoted Roman Catholic family. He grew up as an altar boy and the whole nine yards. My mom grew up as a devoted Southern Baptist. After they got married my dad became a Southern Baptist and that is the church I was baptized in. I still remember that night clearly. It was late in the evening when we arrive at church. I went upstairs to a changing room where I was given a white gown to put on. There was a woman there with the hand full of us getting baptized. I wondered what she was doing there. She looked as old as dirt to me, who knows, she may have been only in her Forty’s. But why didn’t she get baptized at the right time? Doesn’t everyone do it when they’re five? At the appointed time we were all ushered to the top of the stairs above the baptismal pool and we were called down one at a time. The preacher asked me if I wanted to be baptized, which confused me. Why would I do all this stuff to get baptized if I didn’t want to do it? I didn’t know he had to ask me that before dunking me three times in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. I remember wondering if I was going to be scared to go under the water, but I wasn’t. That was the first thing I thought stepping into the pool, “I’m not scared.” When my family got home that night my parents sent my brother and sister up to bed and I stayed down stairs to talk with my parents. They asked me if I understood what happened tonight, which I did, and if I understood what Jesus did, which I did. I am not sure if we spoke about anything else but I remember being amazed at the depth of my understanding of God and His action in my life. Of course, I was well prepared for that night. My dad taught Sunday school and I loved the Old Testament stories. I remember learning about the Garden of Eden, Noah’s flood and why we see rainbows (which always represented God to me, to this very day I think “Every time I put My bow in the sky I will remember My promise to you,” whenever I see one), the destruction of Sodom, Abraham and Isaac, the flight out of Egypt, David and Goliath, Daniel in the lions’ den, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednago. I knew those stories very well but I never remember learning the New Testament stories (except Jesus feeding the multitudes because one of the hero’s of the story book I had was a boy named Joel, about my age, who brought the fish to Jesus), but I know I knew the Gospel because I knew all about Jesus.
When I was seven we moved from Anchorage, Alaska to Jacksonville, Florida (where it finally made sense to be Southern Baptist!) because my dad entered a seminary school there. We only stayed one year before he joined the Army though. We used to go to church twice a week, but now we didn’t go at all. I never gave it much thought. To keep quite during church my brother and I used to bring toys and play in the back of the church. I remember bringing He-Man action figures one time, but I felt it was heretical because the toys were too big! It didn’t matter any more. When I was a preteen and a teenager I began to read the Gospels at night lying in bed. Our family read the Bible after dinner sometimes and my dad (who I thought knew everything in the world) would teach us the finer points of Baptist theology. I suppose I had a prayer life suitable for my age, but something happened in my middle teen years. The cares of this world stopped drawing me closer to God and began to blot Him out. My love for the Lord never diminished and my faith never diminished but my attention dropped like a rock. When I was seventeen I was on my way to school one morning and the idea occurred to me, “You should become a priest.” That was immediately supplanted with the thought that I would rather have a family. I was curious why a Southern Baptist boy would think about becoming a Roman Catholic priest. When I was nineteen I joined the Navy and began to try to live up to the poor reputation of sailors. I was pretty good at that. It seemed that I just coasted along. For several reasons, mostly my hedonistic life style and my disgust with President Clinton, I decided to leave the Navy after only five years instead of twenty.
My life was about to change dramatically. I moved to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada! I started to work in civil engineering and land surveying. I felt like I found a really good job at a small but very good firm – Alpha Engineering. Right at the end of my enlistment in the Navy I had just about as much fun as I could handle and had to look for more civilized ways to spend my time. It was the Lenten Season of 2000 and I started to feel convicted by the Holy Spirit to tithe. So, I decided I better find a church I can belong to so I can fulfill the wishes of the Lord. At that time my mom was finishing RCIA. She and my dad decided to return to church and my dad wanted to return to the faith he grew up with. I had been to church with them several times (when ever I would visit for the weekend, they lived about 150 mile away from me), but I never really considered the Catholic Church in my search for a congregation to be a part of. I was certain I would join a Baptist church. In fact, there was a church really close to my house walking distance away that always seemed to be jamb packed, so I drove by one time to see which church it was – St. Joseph, Husband of Mary, Roman Catholic Church – I knew immediately I would never attend that church! Interestingly enough I ended up going every Tuesday evening for years and singing in their choir some time later. There were times when I was growing up I attended Catholic Mass. One of my good friends was a Catholic and whenever I spent the night at his house his mom would tell me to go to church with them. I never found it objectionable; I just thought I would be a Baptist, maybe even a preacher. I attended the closest Baptist church twice, one of the times was Easter Sunday, but both times the preacher was slamming the Roman Catholics. That really put me off and I decided not to return to his congregation. Even though I did not want to become a Catholic, I held them up as good Christian people. I made the rounds in Las Vegas but never found a church I was comfortable with. All the services I attended felt a little empty. I did not know exactly what I was looking for, but I knew I would know when I found it.
Several weeks had gone by and it was getting on towards the end of the Easter Season. It may have even been Pentecost Sunday. I do seem to remember red vestments, but of course, that may be my imagination filling in the details. I thought back to my first conscious experience with the Catholic Church, in the Sixth Grade. I went to the Children’s Mass with John Gendron (my good Catholic friend) and he told me how to receive Holy Communion on the way in. I said, “What?” and he answered, “Just do what I do.” Then Monday morning Emily (who was in our class) scolded me for receiving Holy Communion without being Catholic. I remembered visiting John after he moved away and going to church with him again while the bishop visited. He was just another preacher to me. I thought about attending Mass with my parents recently and talking to my dad about the Catholic Church. I knew he loved it. He used to tell us stories about when he was a kid, being an altar boy and playing Mass with his sister and telling people he would be the first American pope. I finally resigned and went to Our Lady of Las Vegas Roman Catholic Church. That was no empty service! The Spirit of the Lord filled the entire sanctuary and I was hooked! Walking out of the church towards my car I felt like I was walking two feet above the ground. On that very day I became a devout Roman Catholic. I went back to Our Lady of Las Vegas several times, but the parish I belong to (according to the boundary lines) was St. Francis de Sales. It was the middle of June before I found my parish. In the mean time I had spoken with my parents and they encouraged me to join RCIA, which I was eager to do.
When I was seven we moved from Anchorage, Alaska to Jacksonville, Florida (where it finally made sense to be Southern Baptist!) because my dad entered a seminary school there. We only stayed one year before he joined the Army though. We used to go to church twice a week, but now we didn’t go at all. I never gave it much thought. To keep quite during church my brother and I used to bring toys and play in the back of the church. I remember bringing He-Man action figures one time, but I felt it was heretical because the toys were too big! It didn’t matter any more. When I was a preteen and a teenager I began to read the Gospels at night lying in bed. Our family read the Bible after dinner sometimes and my dad (who I thought knew everything in the world) would teach us the finer points of Baptist theology. I suppose I had a prayer life suitable for my age, but something happened in my middle teen years. The cares of this world stopped drawing me closer to God and began to blot Him out. My love for the Lord never diminished and my faith never diminished but my attention dropped like a rock. When I was seventeen I was on my way to school one morning and the idea occurred to me, “You should become a priest.” That was immediately supplanted with the thought that I would rather have a family. I was curious why a Southern Baptist boy would think about becoming a Roman Catholic priest. When I was nineteen I joined the Navy and began to try to live up to the poor reputation of sailors. I was pretty good at that. It seemed that I just coasted along. For several reasons, mostly my hedonistic life style and my disgust with President Clinton, I decided to leave the Navy after only five years instead of twenty.
My life was about to change dramatically. I moved to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada! I started to work in civil engineering and land surveying. I felt like I found a really good job at a small but very good firm – Alpha Engineering. Right at the end of my enlistment in the Navy I had just about as much fun as I could handle and had to look for more civilized ways to spend my time. It was the Lenten Season of 2000 and I started to feel convicted by the Holy Spirit to tithe. So, I decided I better find a church I can belong to so I can fulfill the wishes of the Lord. At that time my mom was finishing RCIA. She and my dad decided to return to church and my dad wanted to return to the faith he grew up with. I had been to church with them several times (when ever I would visit for the weekend, they lived about 150 mile away from me), but I never really considered the Catholic Church in my search for a congregation to be a part of. I was certain I would join a Baptist church. In fact, there was a church really close to my house walking distance away that always seemed to be jamb packed, so I drove by one time to see which church it was – St. Joseph, Husband of Mary, Roman Catholic Church – I knew immediately I would never attend that church! Interestingly enough I ended up going every Tuesday evening for years and singing in their choir some time later. There were times when I was growing up I attended Catholic Mass. One of my good friends was a Catholic and whenever I spent the night at his house his mom would tell me to go to church with them. I never found it objectionable; I just thought I would be a Baptist, maybe even a preacher. I attended the closest Baptist church twice, one of the times was Easter Sunday, but both times the preacher was slamming the Roman Catholics. That really put me off and I decided not to return to his congregation. Even though I did not want to become a Catholic, I held them up as good Christian people. I made the rounds in Las Vegas but never found a church I was comfortable with. All the services I attended felt a little empty. I did not know exactly what I was looking for, but I knew I would know when I found it.
Several weeks had gone by and it was getting on towards the end of the Easter Season. It may have even been Pentecost Sunday. I do seem to remember red vestments, but of course, that may be my imagination filling in the details. I thought back to my first conscious experience with the Catholic Church, in the Sixth Grade. I went to the Children’s Mass with John Gendron (my good Catholic friend) and he told me how to receive Holy Communion on the way in. I said, “What?” and he answered, “Just do what I do.” Then Monday morning Emily (who was in our class) scolded me for receiving Holy Communion without being Catholic. I remembered visiting John after he moved away and going to church with him again while the bishop visited. He was just another preacher to me. I thought about attending Mass with my parents recently and talking to my dad about the Catholic Church. I knew he loved it. He used to tell us stories about when he was a kid, being an altar boy and playing Mass with his sister and telling people he would be the first American pope. I finally resigned and went to Our Lady of Las Vegas Roman Catholic Church. That was no empty service! The Spirit of the Lord filled the entire sanctuary and I was hooked! Walking out of the church towards my car I felt like I was walking two feet above the ground. On that very day I became a devout Roman Catholic. I went back to Our Lady of Las Vegas several times, but the parish I belong to (according to the boundary lines) was St. Francis de Sales. It was the middle of June before I found my parish. In the mean time I had spoken with my parents and they encouraged me to join RCIA, which I was eager to do.
Friday, April 4, 2008
New Blog Site
I have begun to post blogs on another site - The Black Cordelias. It can be found here and in the blog roll to the right.
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