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.”