Would Christianity, as regards truth and peace, faith and charity, fare worse, would it not fare better, without any Church at all, than with a thousand Churches, scattered through the world, all supreme and independent?
-Ven. John Henry Cardinal Newman
WARNING: What follows is going to be a pretty bitter rant. Let me qualify everything I may say (since I won’t have time to edit it) with this: no, I have not lost my faith. I am still every bit the traditionalist, pro-life, wholeheartedly believing Catholic I was. I’ve simply seen too much in the past few days to believe that we’re having any success whatsoever at reaching those who need us more than anyone else: the poor.
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We’re fighting the wrong battle. Abortion is so visible; it attracts so much attention; but, it’s a wicked feint. We’re like French soldiers haplessly manning the impregnable Maginot Line while the Germans, ruthlessly efficient, simply marched around. We feel so good praying our Rosaries in front of abortion clinics; we might even spend time showing others the horrors of “termination” with graphical photos of dismembered fetuses. We donate to pro-life causes; we volunteer at agencies that promote support of pregnant women. We really do make a difference.
But for every person we help lead back to a culture of life, we lose countless others who fall victim to the ultimate modern seduction. It goes by a simple name; it is a simple ploy; and unfortunately, it works. It’s called the Pill, and it may be the Enemy’s perfect weapon.
Think about it: what else can you procure that will instantly divest you of any responsibility for anyone but yourself? Just take a pill every day (or even better, a shot every three months or a patch every week), and you no longer have to worry about kids interrupting your pleasure. It’s no wonder that the vast majority of poor Hispanic women, of whom a large number are nominally Catholic, fall for it. Why have a brood of children when you can have sex with your boyfriend (and why bother to get married for that matter?) with impunity?
And yes, there are consequences to this libertine mentality. Sexually-transmitted diseases are rife. But there’s another subtle aspect to this sabotage of fertility: an often warranted faith in the infallibility of modern medicine. If we do get sick, the doctors can fix it. What’s scary is that, in many cases, we can.
So, on the one hand, we have the Catholic ideal: accepting the God-given gift of marriage and fertility, loving children as we procreate them, supported by a community–a Church–that makes the raising of future faithful generations possible. It’s an incomparably beautiful vision–but it relies upon self-denial. On the other hand, we have the modern ideal: planned parenthood. Sex is for your pleasure only; if you want to, you can let it follow its “natural” course to produce children; if you don’t, it’s not a problem. Hedonism rules under the guise of liberty, and self-denial is the ultimate evil.
Look at the evidence and tell me which of these two visions is winning the hearts of the one group of people that we are commanded above any other to serve: the poor. We well-catechized Catholics can see the beauty of the culture of life–and even we, if we really look into our hearts are seduced to some extent by the other side. Imagine those who do not know their Faith–those who often simply struggle from day to day to make ends meet. They are provided–usually for free, by our health care system–access to the modern vision of freedom. We Catholics, on the other hand, offer an alternative that is costly. Beautiful and true, yes, but at a price that most people today are unwilling to pay.
So what can we do to stem what I’ve described as an inexorable tide? I really don’t know, but here are some thoughts.
We have failed first and foremost in community. If a woman has a child in an adulterous relationship, we should step and help her to take care of him. If she can’t, then we should take the child in. We must, for our own souls’ sake, rely upon others of like commitment.
We have also been failed by our priests. If Father neither preaches from the pulpit nor counsels in private that contraception is a problem, then the message is obvious: that it’s OK. Even worse, if he actively counsels his flock in private (or in public) that it’s OK to contracept and have sex outside of marriage–and I know this happens in our parishes daily–there is no way we will be able to convince people otherwise. Especially not in a hierarchical Latin-American society where the padre, for some reason which escapes me, still commands a vestigial position of authority. Our pastors must be men of faith who preach and practice what the Church teaches. Yes, they are human and they will sin, but that does not change the Truth they proclaim.
And we have failed, and will continue to fail, individually. Original sin still haunts us and will continue to do so. So, in the end, despite my bitterness, I am compelled to write that there indeed is hope. We are not intrinsically different from our fathers; they failed but the possibility of life eternal continues. We should pray; we should start attempting to rebuild, on a small scale at first, the communities, pastored by good priests, that make living the Catholic life possible. It was possible before despite our sinfulness; it is still possible. Maybe, as Alasdair Macintyre suggests, we do need a new St. Benedict to lead us into the desert and teach us to purify our souls.
We rightly fight the evil of abortion, but by all means, we mustn’t lose sight of the real battle.
All things were made to lead us to God. As a matter of fact, though, most things turn us away from him. The only puzzle to be solved is to make the things which turn us away from God become means to lead us to him. … It is we, by the bad use we make of things, who render them blockades between him and us. There is therefore no other problem than to transform these very same things, the things that make up our daily lives, from obstacles into means. And it is there, then, that our temporal activities, our work in the world, become the very material, we might say, for our practice of the spiritual life–means for going towards God. At that moment, we shall have caught on to the unity of our life. A day that can be spent in the most total banality, taken up by the purely human aspects of work, and bringing me in the evening only a kind of frightful void–it is up to me to transfigure it by a miracle of the heart and to invest it with a kind of incorruptible substance.
– Jean Cardinal Daniélou, The Scandal of Truth
…I get linked by Eric Scheske in the National Catholic Register as a “Southern blog.”
Well, that it is, but much more the blog of a Catholic convert biochemist turned medical student who just happens to be from the South. Welcome to all who might be visiting, and I’ll attempt to write a little bit more. But no promises as I’ve been putting in 80 hour weeks here lately, and studying in my “free time”.
My bishop today asked North Carolina Catholics to contact their legislators regarding a bill supporting embryonic stem cell research that is making its way through the State House.
Here’s my contribution:
Dear Representative X,
As one of your constituents, I recently discovered that the State House is considering the “Stem Cell Research Health and Wellness Act,” HB 1837, which has been recently sent to the Appropriations Committee on which you serve. I would like to point out two areas in particular for your consideration as your committee considers this bill: the failure of this bill to adequately address ethical concerns about embryonic stem cell research, and the lack of support for other kinds of stem cell research which avoid the insurmountable ethical problems with embryonic research.
The bill as currently written would make it state policy that embryonic stem cell research could be conducted only on cells derived from “excess” embryos donated after in vitro fertilization treatment. On its surface, this appears to be an admirable solution. However, it does not address the primary ethical concern that many of your constituents have with such research: that it destroys a human embryo. Whether created for the purpose of stem cell research or for in vitro fertilization does not change the basic fact that embryos are destroyed to produced embryonic stem cells. If you consider an embryo to be a human life, this can never be condoned, even if miraculous treatments be generated as a result.
Our legislature could, however, endorse and fund research designed to circumvent this problem. Researchers at Wake Forest University School of Medicine, for example, have derived cells with many of the properties of embryonic stem cells from amniotic fluid. With the support of our state, these scientists and many others like them may generate ways to produce cells with many, if not all, of the benefits of embryonic stem cells without destroying embryos in the process. In addition, adult-derived stem cell research shows great promise in medical therapeutics. By focusing on areas of research that do not contain ethical pitfalls, we would set an example for the rest of the country to follow.
I acknowledge that my requests may sound like pleas to limit the creativity of scientists. But, as a molecular biologist by training, I have come to understand that what we can pursue must be tempered by what we ought to pursue. Embryonic stem cell research may be a panacea for all I know, but to save lives at the expense of countless others is a cure that we cannot risk. This policy debate turns on whether a human embryo is a human life. That is something that science cannot answer, so we should err on the side of caution.
If you’re in North Carolina, please go write your state representatives. It doesn’t take much time, and it just might make a difference.
Like Fr. Longenecker, I have great love and respect for my Evangelical friends and family. I will be forever grateful for the foundation that I received in Christianity from my upbringing. But, there is one aspect that, quite simply, enrages me. It’s the constant missionary efforts in Catholic lands. They operate under the assumption that Catholicism is not Christian. Granted, there are a whole lot of “cultural Christians” in Catholic countries who don’t know their faith at all, but if Evangelicals considered Catholics truly their brethren, then shouldn’t they be pushing us to get our act in gear?
The Mission Territory Parody Department is back after an extended break. I will leave it to my devoted reader(s) to determine my ulterior motive at this characterization…
(to the tune of “We Are Called“)
Come! We’re open tonight!
Drive ’round the lot, our prices are right,
All our cars passed a ten-point inspection,
And for your protection,
Our best guarantee…
Chorus:
Buy our cars! We’re sure that you’ll like ’em!
Buy our cars! Get a beach trip for free!
Buy our cars! No credit? No problem!
There something for one, and for all!
What? Can’t find our lot?
Just look for the spotlight off I-95!
We have all our cars washed, waxed and spotless!
Forget our street address?
Find the American flag!
Chorus
Look! Our special this week
Is a ’96 Taurus with ten thousand miles!
It was owned, by a granny from Cincy,
Drove only on Sundays,
To the church down the street!
Chorus
Once you’ve purchased a car,
For service, don’t worry, we’ll handle it all!
From your oil, to a bad alternator,
Or something more major,
No job’s too big or too small!
Chorus
If you have 20 minutes to spare, check out last Friday’s Diocese of Raleigh Vocations Holy Hour homily, given by Fr. Paul Parkerson of Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Dunn, NC. Fr. Parkerson is a throwback (and a fellow deeply Southern, ex-Baptist convert); rarely do you hear one of the words “schism,” “rank heresy,” “apostasy,” “abomination,” and “sins of the flesh” in any given homily, much less all of them. I think he may have managed to insult 95% of the priests in the diocese in one homily–I hope he didn’t go too far. But every word of it is true…
Finishing the Chesterton quote from before:
And the third stage is perhaps the truest and the most terrible. It is that in which the man is trying not to be converted.
He has come too near to the truth, and has forgotten that truth is a magnet, with the powers of attraction and repulsion. He is filled with a sort of fear, which makes him feel like a fool who has been patronising “Popery” when he ought to have been awakening to the reality of Rome. He discovers a strange and alarming fact, which is perhaps implied in Newman’s interesting lecture on Blanco White and the two ways of attacking Catholicism. Anyhow, it is a truth that Newman and every other convert has probably found in one form or another. It is impossible to be just to the Catholic Church. The moment men cease to pull against it they feel a tug towards it. The moment they cease to shout it down they begin to listen to it with pleasure. The moment they try to be fair to it they begin to be fond of it. But when that affection has passed a certain point it begins to take on the tragic and menacing grandeur of a great love affair. The man has exactly the same sense of having committed or compromised himself; of having been in a sense entrapped, even
if he is glad to be entrapped. But for a considerable time he is not so much glad as simply terrified. It may be that this real psychological experience has been misunderstood by stupider people and is responsible for all that remains of the legend that Rome is a mere trap. But that legend misses the whole point of the
psychology. It is not the Pope who has set the trap or the priests who have baited it. The whole point of the position is that the trap is simply the truth. The whole point is that the man himself has made his way towards the trap of truth, and not the trap that has run after the man. All steps except the last step he has taken eagerly on his own account, out of interest in the truth; and even the last step, or the last stage, only alarms him because it is so very true. If I may refer once more to a personal experience, I may say that I for one was never less troubled by doubts than in the
last phase, when I was troubled by fears. Before that final delay I had been detached and ready to regard all sorts of doctrines with an open mind. Since that delay has ended in decision, I have had all sorts of changes in mere mood; and I think I sympathise with doubts and difficulties more than I did before. But I had no doubts or difficulties just before. I had only fears; fears of something that had the finality and simplicity of suicide. But the more I thrust the thing into the back of my mind, the more certain I grew of what Thing it was. And by a paradox that does not frighten me now in the least, it may be that I shall never again have such absolute
assurance that the thing is true as I had when I made my last effort to deny it.
At the end of the last episode, I was in a quandary. I had become firmly intellectually convinced of the truth of Catholicism. There was not a doctrine or dogma of which I remained unconvinced: once I accepted the need for the papal office, its infallibility on matters of faith and morals, and the Magisterium, everything else fell into place. Mary didn’t bother me; the Communion of Saints made perfect sense; I didn’t even have a problem with priestly celibacy. But, I remained a Baptist.
Community was the first big obstacle. With all our talk in the Catholic internet world of the need to follow truth in everything, we tend to forget that human society is based around actual, real community life. Once in such a loving group, it is hard to leave even when you know that the fullness of the truth lies elsewhere. Such was my situation: I spent a good part of my week in the company of my Baptist friends. Between Sunday school classes, choir and “worship band” practice, helping out with the youth on Wednesday nights, and any number of social activities, my world revolved around that community.
It took me over a year from when I became convinced that the Catholic Church held the fullness of the Faith, and when I left the Baptist church for good. I’ve tried to figure out logically why it took that long, but I’m not sure that it was logical. The cognitive dissonance between living in a faith community with which I agreed less and less, and spending the life of the mind reading Catholic literature, just ate at me more, day after day. After attending the Easter Vigil at my current parish back in 2005, combined with mounting pressure from Catholic friends to be true to myself, I finally decided to talk to a priest and start RCIA. It was not easy to say goodbye to my Baptist church, but I am still best friends with many folks there, and even fill in for their pianist from time to time.
But that was just the beginning of the agony of conversion. I managed to break myself away from the Baptist church with much heartache, but I still couldn’t get up the guts to tell my family. I come from a long line of Protestants, Methodist and Lutheran on my mom’s side, Baptist on my dad’s. The stereotypical anti-Catholic prejudices run strong. So, I was deathly afraid of what they’d say. It was cowardice, pure and simple, that kept me from discussing my newfound faith with my parents–I valued familial harmony above all else. But just like with the Baptists, I finally realized that I had to tell them. I wish I could say that it was courage and conviction in the truth that made me spill the beans, but it was more that I couldn’t in good conscience actually get confirmed into the Church without telling them. The commandment to honor your father and mother weighed too hevily. After a lot of tears and a few weeks of anger, especially on my mom’s part, we reconciled, and my relationship with my parents is stronger than it’s ever been. I doubt they yet understand why I felt that I had to convert, but they realize that my Christian faith has never been deeper.
So, on December 10, 2005, at the Saturday vigil Mass, I was received into the Church, confirmed, and received the Eucharist for the first time. It was a night I’ll never forget. I have never looked back; I love my Baptist friends still and enjoy going back and accompanying their worship on the piano. But, there’s not a chance that I’d go back to Protestantism. I value the firm foundation in Christian faith that I received growing up, but there’s so much more to Catholicism that I could never leave.
Conversion was just the beginning, however. While I have never doubted my decision to convert, the honeymoon didn’t last long. In the next installment, I’ll muse on the various issues that developed as the reality of Catholic parish life in the early 21st century set in. Stay tuned…
Once I recover from the shock of dissertation defending (yes, you may, if you would like, call me “Dr”, although I’m no different than I was yesterday), I’ll resume with Part III: “the agony of coming home”.
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