Look, Ma, I'm Catholic

I live at some distance -- several hundred miles -- from most of my family and one dear friend who has known me since the fifth grade (that would be more than 40 years, at this point). Along with all of the other disadvantages to geographic separation, there's one that has weighed rather heavily on my heart these days.

Some of them don't yet know I am Catholic.

If the intervening miles between us could be snapped back like a rubber band, they would have seen the process of my conversion as it unfolded. As it is, the visual cues alone would now be hard to miss; the catechism and missals and breviary and other Catholic books around the house, the crucifixes on the walls and the small one around my neck, the framed and blessed Our Father I received in RCIA, a statue of Mary here and St. Jude there, a picture of the Holy Father, novena candles ... and finally the rosaries. Plural. The ones my daughter and I pray with, and the ones I make and give away.

If they visited over a weekend, it would also be hard to miss the fact that I go to Mass; they would be invited to come with me, but even if they politely declined, I'd be going anyway. Even before then, they may hear me saying morning or evening prayers or a rosary. Or see me make the sign of the Cross as we pray before a meal.

All of this is part of my life now. And I am not trying to keep it a secret. But some of these dear ones are also very entrenched and committed to a Protestant fundamentalism that teaches them -- has told them all of their lives -- that the doctrines of Catholic church are, at best, misguided and in error; at worst, anathema.

How to tell them? How to explain that all of the outward and visible evidence that this friend/sister/niece of theirs, whom they love, has "gone Catholic" is nowhere near as significant as the inward changes that have occurred as a result? How to express that the fullness and richness of Christianity, most especially in the Eucharist as the source and summit of our faith, is not just a "belief system" to which I subscribe but the very life of Christ -- an inheritance that they share, as my brothers and sisters, if only they would accept it?

How, indeed. To a certain extent, most converts have this dilemma: On the heels of telling our loved ones about our conversion, we must immediately become apologists and evangelists when we are still very wet behind the ears in more ways than one. If we're honest with ourselves, the prayer most often on our lips at those times is "Lord, please don't let me screw this up". Scott Hahn, I am not, nor even Marcus Grodi.

We just tell them, and let the Holy Spirit take it from there ... yes, but let me do it gently and lovingly and with a humble heart, and if even a glimmer of arrogance or superiority begins to creep in, let me shut my mouth until my attitude changes.

If we risk a relationship in "breaking the news" to those who are still where we were, then we risk it, and can offer up that sorrow. And always, always keep our loved ones in prayer.

Easy to answer. Hard to do, and thus I procrastinate. Lord, strengthen me.

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.

VERT (not the color) topic: First Catholic Faux Pax

[Note: VERT "is an online community & resource for Catholic converts, reverts and those sincerely considering converting to the Eastern Rite or Western Rite of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church." Weekly posting topics are suggested; members who wish to participate blog about that topic and link the post at VERT so that all can share. Joining VERT is simplicity itself; I highly recommend it for any "vert".]


This is actually LAST week's topic; I've missed the posting cutoff by one day due to a grandchild's birthday. I don't think our Owen will mind, though.

When I first started going to Mass regularly on Sundays, I was very concerned about whether I'd do something wrong -- or even something right but at the wrong time -- and offend someone. I held the missalette firmly with three fingers serving as place-holders on different pages, a grip I somewhat relaxed to ease the ache in my awkwardly-placed fingers only during the homily. (This, after all, was the part of Mass that was most familiar to someone coming from an evangelical Protestant tradition.)

One problem: I'm left-handed. The digital gymnastics described above were, at first, done with my right hand in order to leave my dominant hand free. So which hand did I use to make the sign of the Cross?

Yep. I did it with my south paw; during Mass, and also at the holy water font. It finally dawned on me that the sidelong glances from others nearby was not because I was following the missalette word-for-word -- inquirers and new converts are not an unusual sight in our parish masses. Rather, I'm sure it was a bit disconcerting to see the sign of our faith made with the "wrong" hand as it looked, well, backward.

I did catch on. Rather quickly, at that. But I'm such a dominant lefty that sometimes I still have to consciously remind myself as I'm leaving the church after Mass to disengage the autopilot, break with the habitual, and really think about what I'm doing. Which, come to think of it, isn't a bad way to approach going out into the world after Mass in more ways than one.

Thank You, RCIA

Evidence that I actually paid attention in RCIA class:

You are a 100% traditional Catholic!

 

Congratulations! You are more knowlegeable than most modern theologians! You have achieved mastery over the most important doctrines of the Catholic Faith! You should share your incredible understanding with others!

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VERT Topic of the Week: Purgatory

[Note: VERT "is an online community & resource for Catholic converts, reverts and those sincerely considering converting to the Eastern Rite or Western Rite of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church." Weekly posting topics are suggested; members who wish to participate blog about that topic and link the post at VERT so that all can share. Joining VERT is simplicity itself; I highly recommend it for any "vert".]

What do you know or believe about Purgatory or have you had an experience you'd like to share?

Boy, just one mention of Purgatory and RCIA memories come flooding back. As a convert from evangelical Protestantism, this was one of the bricks over which I stumbled. Not all bricks are equal. Some are mostly sand, requiring only a touch of the truth to crumble. Others are hard-fired and not easily broken, but even these are chipped away bit by bit until there's only dust remaining.

Purgatory was a medium-hard brick for me. Call it a small cinder block.

The reason, of course, is that Protestantism teaches there's no such thing -- and no need for it, because if you're "saved" you're going straight to heaven, your ticket is already punched. I was taught that Purgatory was invented by the Catholic church to make money. (All those donations for Masses, right?) The capper, of course, was the ringing denunciation that Purgatory isn't in the Bible. So there. Sola scriptura. If it ain't there, we don't believe it. (And if it IS there and we don't like it, we explain it away; Jesus couldn't possibly have meant us to actually eat his flesh and drink his blood, it was clearly symbolic, wasn't it?)

I had already understood and accepted the need for sacramental confession and reconciliation, and in fact it made more sense to me than the breezy "once saved, always saved" -- mainly because I knew myself to be inclined to sin, as we all are. Protestantism didn't address the ongoing need for conversion/penance so long as we still breathe, but I knew the need existed; just didn't put it all together until I began seriously exploring Catholicism.

From there, it was a little easier to break the Purgatory brick. Reason alone told me that even if heaven is its ultimate destination, how can any soul enter the presence of God with the slightest attachment to even the least venial sin? Can't happen. So there must be a purgation. And if we are all one body -- the church militant, the church suffering, and the church triumphant -- we pray for one another. Including those who suffer but not without hope.

Learn Latin? Who, Me?

Time for a little confession (not the sacramental kind, of course). Before I came home to the Catholic Church, I knew just two Latin phrases from the liturgy: Sursum corda and mea culpa.

I ran across sursum corda at a young age, when reading Marie Killilea's books about her family. This was, coincidentally, also my first exposure to things Catholic. I'm not sure how many other faith-specific details I absorbed, but I did remember that the name they gave to their family home meant "lift up your hearts".

After my conversion I started absorbing Latin here and there despite the fact that my parish masses are in the vernacular (although, happily, our masses are very much traditionalist; no liturgical dancers and such). I heard the Agnus Dei once on the radio, and was surprised at how it touched my heart; so much so that I looked up the Latin and memorized it, and now when we sing "Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world ..." there's a soft descant of "Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi ..." in my mind.

On the Internet, I'm seeing Latin everywhere among Catholics. Message forum signatures, blog titles. Whole posts, sometimes. And even if I don't yet understand it all, I like it. No, that's not quite accurate: Something within me responds to it, this ancient language of the Church. And I'm a post-Vatican II convert who has never -- yet -- been to a Tridentine mass.

My husband, who is 60-something, attended Catholic schools and was taught Latin. I must learn it in bits and pieces. But as a convert, and thus made aware of the depth and richness and constancy of the Catholic Church, I think it's just as important for me to know at least some Latin as it was to go through RCIA.

Besides, I'd like to be able to read my blogroll.