"I regard it as absurd and unjustifiable that we should spend forty days keeping Lent, pondering what it means, preaching about self-denial... bringing it all to a peak with Holy Week, which in turn climaxes in Maundy Thursday and Good Friday . . . and then, after a rather odd Holy Saturday, we have a single day of celebration...
"Easter week itself ought to be an eight-day festival, with champagne served after morning prayer or even before, with lots of alleluias and extra hymns and spectacular anthems. Is it any wonder people find it hard to believe in the resurrection of Jesus if we don't throw our hats in the air?... It's long overdue that we took a hard look at how we keep Easter in church, at home, in our personal lives, right through the system. And if it means rethinking some cherished habits, well, maybe it's time to wake up...
"And while we're about it, we might write some more good Easter hymns and take care to choose the many good ones already written that celebrate what Easter really is rather than treating it as simply our ticket to a blissful life hereafter... We should be taking steps to celebrate Easter in creative new ways: in art, literature, children's games, poetry, music, dance, festivals, bells, special concerts, anything that comes to mind. This is our greatest festival.
"Take Christmas away, and in biblical terms you lose two chapters at the front of Matthew and Luke, nothing else. Take Easter away, and you don't have a New Testament; you don't have a Christianity; as Paul says, you are still in your sins. We shouldn't allow the secular world, with its parareligious events and its cute Easter bunnies to blow us off course. This is our greatest day. We should put the flags out.
"If Lent is a time to give things up, Easter ought to be a time to take things up. Champagne for breakfast again- well, of course. Christian holiness was never meant to be merely negative. Of course you have to weed the garden from time to time; sometimes the ground ivy may need serious digging before you can get it out. That's Lent for you. But you don't want simply to turn the garden back into a neat bed of blank earth. Easter is the time to sow new seeds and to plant out a few cuttings... Easter should mean planting, watering, and training up things in your life (personal and corporate) that ought to be blossoming, filling the garden with color and perfume, and in due course bearing fruit."
N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope. Chapter 15 Introduction: Celebrating Easter.
Some food for thought. Holy Week and the Triduum were really intense and serious for me. So I am delighted to say that my friends and I actually did spend Easter gardening in the warm sunshine, sipping wine, cooking lamb, singing songs, and going to big feasts. Friends and family, you are lovely.
I'm also delighted to say that my Confirmation and First Communion are on Easter Friday. I've been waiting a long time!
Spring is exciting. Easter is exciting. Life is exciting.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Thoughts on First Confession
Today I received the Sacrament of Reconciliation for the first time. I have to testify that it's a lovely experience.
First, I follow the Catechism's recommendation for a good examination of conscience. I love the emphasis on praying through certain passages of scripture to reflect on what you need to confess:
CCC 1454 "...prepared for by an examination of conscience made in the light of the Word of God. The passages best suited to this can be found in the Ten Commandments, the moral catechesis of the Gospels and the apostolic Letters, such as the Sermon on the Mount and the apostolic teachings.53"
53 Cf. Mt 5-7; Rom 12-15; 1 Cor 12-13; Gal 5; Eph 4-6; etc.
The actual confession seems hard, but the priest is compassionate and quiet. He looks like Jesus, actually. He is not in a hurry (normally priests are so busy!). He knows me, my name and my long journey here. He listens, mostly, and then answers with wise words. He prays silently before he says a penance (mine involves meditation on some particular parts of Scripture). He says absolution, prays for me, and makes the sign of the cross with me. We smile: he with kindness and I with gratitude. I walk away light with joy.
You know, it always seemed suspicious to me to think that the Sacraments are so effective at dispensing grace. We can't put the Holy Spirit in a box, right? It's supposed to be spontaneous and experiential, right? We sense great movements of God with our emotions, right?
Yes, certainly. But I am learning that, somehow, the Sacraments really do have the effect of pouring out grace on us and renewing us in the Holy Spirit. Every time. Even if the people involved (congregation and priests) are distracted or in a bad mood or not pure in their intentions. It's amazing.
Just a musing. Confirmation is a beautiful process. I submit that it may be the most profound way to participate in the season of Lent. As a Candidate (an already-Baptized Christian), I will receive the other Sacraments of Initiation a few days after Easter (Confirmation! Eucharist!). So I don't get to participate at Easter, but I will just get to appreciate the Vigil from the audience. But I'm looking forward to the Triduum. I can hardly wait!
First, I follow the Catechism's recommendation for a good examination of conscience. I love the emphasis on praying through certain passages of scripture to reflect on what you need to confess:
CCC 1454 "...prepared for by an examination of conscience made in the light of the Word of God. The passages best suited to this can be found in the Ten Commandments, the moral catechesis of the Gospels and the apostolic Letters, such as the Sermon on the Mount and the apostolic teachings.53"
53 Cf. Mt 5-7; Rom 12-15; 1 Cor 12-13; Gal 5; Eph 4-6; etc.
The actual confession seems hard, but the priest is compassionate and quiet. He looks like Jesus, actually. He is not in a hurry (normally priests are so busy!). He knows me, my name and my long journey here. He listens, mostly, and then answers with wise words. He prays silently before he says a penance (mine involves meditation on some particular parts of Scripture). He says absolution, prays for me, and makes the sign of the cross with me. We smile: he with kindness and I with gratitude. I walk away light with joy.
You know, it always seemed suspicious to me to think that the Sacraments are so effective at dispensing grace. We can't put the Holy Spirit in a box, right? It's supposed to be spontaneous and experiential, right? We sense great movements of God with our emotions, right?
Yes, certainly. But I am learning that, somehow, the Sacraments really do have the effect of pouring out grace on us and renewing us in the Holy Spirit. Every time. Even if the people involved (congregation and priests) are distracted or in a bad mood or not pure in their intentions. It's amazing.
Just a musing. Confirmation is a beautiful process. I submit that it may be the most profound way to participate in the season of Lent. As a Candidate (an already-Baptized Christian), I will receive the other Sacraments of Initiation a few days after Easter (Confirmation! Eucharist!). So I don't get to participate at Easter, but I will just get to appreciate the Vigil from the audience. But I'm looking forward to the Triduum. I can hardly wait!
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| The Return of the Prodigal Son |
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Baptize the Babies!
This is the story of how I changed my ideas about Baptism, and it will probably be most interesting to Baptist readers. Sorry in advance to my parents for the contrary things I'm about to write. This issue really alarmed me when I first changed my mind, but in recent conversations with friends I've realized that the Catholic value of Baptism doesn't seem nearly so radical to a lot of Christians as it did to me. You see, I started reading the Catechism as a fresh graduate of a Southern Baptist university, having attended Southern Baptist churches for seven years.
So, I was baptized twice. So were all my siblings, though none of us as infants (sorry, Christina, you two weren't either, otherwise I suppose you could each count three baptisms). We each had a baby dedication, too. Now really, this doesn't make much sense. I don't regret this, but I think it actually belittles the meaning and the effect of the Sacrament of Baptism.
I've always heard that baptism doesn't actually "save" you (I recall my family leaving the church of my childhood and citing an "incorrect" teaching on this as one of the reasons) and that it's essential for a person to experience it when they're old enough to understand what's going on. And when we moved to the South, I often heard preached that it actually has to be baptism by immersion in a pool of water for it to count. So, none of that sprinkling crap. I obviously needed to be baptized again, this time the right way. So my brother and I got baptized together by immersion in Tennessee in 2007, and it was really cool and I liked it.
So it kinda blew my mind to realize that "real Christians" who were sincere about their faith (i.e. my new friends) could be content with baby baptism. My good man was very patient with my outbursts of skepticism and incredulity while I processed this. How could they treat their children's salvation so thoughtlessly? I wondered. The problems of nominalism arise when people claim to be Catholic because they were baptized as infants but they really aren't believers and aren't living holy lives at all. That's a valid concern.
However. I did change my mind on this, for several good reasons.
Firstly, the types of good Christian parents I know always agree that it's important to have some sort of rite of dedication of a new child to God. I think this is so important that I'd like it to be an official Sacrament. Regarding salvation... God saves people by grace. A Sacrament is an outward sign of an inward reality. Sacraments actually have an effect, and they're an important way that God gives grace to us. That's why 1 Peter 3:21 is true: "Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ" (ESV).
One nice thing is that the Catholic Church acknowledges the reality of my baptism (one or the other, I suppose). Which is interesting, since the Southern Baptist church that baptized me thought that it was "just a symbol" and wasn't doing a bit of good to "save" me.
Another thing that changed my mind is simply an analogy. Before Jesus established the New Covenant, God's people showed that they belonged to him by circumcising themselves and their children. Their babies. At eight days old, actually, so it sounds like most people didn't have much choice in the matter. Then baptism replaced the circumcision of the Old Covenant. 1 Colossians 2:11-12 says, "In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead."
Infant baptism makes a lot more sense to me in this light. If it was right and good for the Israelites to circumcise their infants, I can see how it would be right and good to baptize them now, even if they don't understand what's going on.
Actually, about that... I'd just like to say that I still don't understand the full significance of my baptism. I learn more about it all the time as the Holy Spirit awakens me to new meanings of it. So, I understand it a lot more now than I did when I was immersed at age eighteen, and exponentially more than when I got sprinkled at age nine. So, should I get baptized again because it is more meaningful now? Definitely not. Because baptism actually does something. It matters.
As a side note, I do think it's lovely to have a Sacrament that the Christian chooses only after the appropriate "age of reason," and Confirmation seems like an excellent venue for that all-important "public profession" that the Baptists celebrate with their immersions. It's important to acknowledge some sort of initiation to Christianity when people begin to understand their religion and take it to heart. And yes, believer's baptism is important and worthy of celebration.
Anyhow, the Church claims that infant baptism was the norm from the Acts of the Apostles up until the Reformation. There's good reason to believe that when "entire households" were baptized, that included children and infants (e.g. Acts 16:15, 1 Corinthians 1:16). Though I think historical evidence of this custom surfaces in the second century at the earliest. Still, that's pretty early, y'all.
The Catholic Rite of Baptism is very beautiful and full of scriptural analogies. It's even better than the best baby dedication. If you're curious, you can read it here.
I'll conclude with this neat image of Mary and Joseph presenting baby Jesus at the Temple (Luke 2:21)
So, I was baptized twice. So were all my siblings, though none of us as infants (sorry, Christina, you two weren't either, otherwise I suppose you could each count three baptisms). We each had a baby dedication, too. Now really, this doesn't make much sense. I don't regret this, but I think it actually belittles the meaning and the effect of the Sacrament of Baptism.
I've always heard that baptism doesn't actually "save" you (I recall my family leaving the church of my childhood and citing an "incorrect" teaching on this as one of the reasons) and that it's essential for a person to experience it when they're old enough to understand what's going on. And when we moved to the South, I often heard preached that it actually has to be baptism by immersion in a pool of water for it to count. So, none of that sprinkling crap. I obviously needed to be baptized again, this time the right way. So my brother and I got baptized together by immersion in Tennessee in 2007, and it was really cool and I liked it.
So it kinda blew my mind to realize that "real Christians" who were sincere about their faith (i.e. my new friends) could be content with baby baptism. My good man was very patient with my outbursts of skepticism and incredulity while I processed this. How could they treat their children's salvation so thoughtlessly? I wondered. The problems of nominalism arise when people claim to be Catholic because they were baptized as infants but they really aren't believers and aren't living holy lives at all. That's a valid concern.
However. I did change my mind on this, for several good reasons.
Firstly, the types of good Christian parents I know always agree that it's important to have some sort of rite of dedication of a new child to God. I think this is so important that I'd like it to be an official Sacrament. Regarding salvation... God saves people by grace. A Sacrament is an outward sign of an inward reality. Sacraments actually have an effect, and they're an important way that God gives grace to us. That's why 1 Peter 3:21 is true: "Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ" (ESV).
One nice thing is that the Catholic Church acknowledges the reality of my baptism (one or the other, I suppose). Which is interesting, since the Southern Baptist church that baptized me thought that it was "just a symbol" and wasn't doing a bit of good to "save" me.
Another thing that changed my mind is simply an analogy. Before Jesus established the New Covenant, God's people showed that they belonged to him by circumcising themselves and their children. Their babies. At eight days old, actually, so it sounds like most people didn't have much choice in the matter. Then baptism replaced the circumcision of the Old Covenant. 1 Colossians 2:11-12 says, "In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead."
Infant baptism makes a lot more sense to me in this light. If it was right and good for the Israelites to circumcise their infants, I can see how it would be right and good to baptize them now, even if they don't understand what's going on.
Actually, about that... I'd just like to say that I still don't understand the full significance of my baptism. I learn more about it all the time as the Holy Spirit awakens me to new meanings of it. So, I understand it a lot more now than I did when I was immersed at age eighteen, and exponentially more than when I got sprinkled at age nine. So, should I get baptized again because it is more meaningful now? Definitely not. Because baptism actually does something. It matters.
As a side note, I do think it's lovely to have a Sacrament that the Christian chooses only after the appropriate "age of reason," and Confirmation seems like an excellent venue for that all-important "public profession" that the Baptists celebrate with their immersions. It's important to acknowledge some sort of initiation to Christianity when people begin to understand their religion and take it to heart. And yes, believer's baptism is important and worthy of celebration.
Anyhow, the Church claims that infant baptism was the norm from the Acts of the Apostles up until the Reformation. There's good reason to believe that when "entire households" were baptized, that included children and infants (e.g. Acts 16:15, 1 Corinthians 1:16). Though I think historical evidence of this custom surfaces in the second century at the earliest. Still, that's pretty early, y'all.
The Catholic Rite of Baptism is very beautiful and full of scriptural analogies. It's even better than the best baby dedication. If you're curious, you can read it here.
I'll conclude with this neat image of Mary and Joseph presenting baby Jesus at the Temple (Luke 2:21)
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| Presentation of Christ at the Temple, Giotto di Bondone |
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Becoming Catholic: Objections
Becoming Catholic comes up in conversation with me regularly. I get a lot of objections to this, and some of them are really valid. This week has reminded me of the Things I Don't Like... things that deserve discussion, concern, and our earnest prayers for the Church.
Obviously, there are lots of things that typical evangelicals object to that I enthusiastically defend. I'm down with the Catholic Sacraments (I can discuss later why I believe in the Real Presence, approve infant baptism and value confession and penance). I am not bothered by the Eucharistic rather than literary focus of the Mass. I do disapprove of certain aspects of Catholic teaching (e.g purgatory, intercession of dead saints, the political supremacy of the Bishop of Rome) and I am a bit irritated and concerned about certain Catholic practices (e.g excessive Marian devotion, excessive dependence on physical relics and such, the fact that it's so darn difficult to find a good Bible study, you know). However, I really only have one serious objection at this point, and it has to do with ecclesiastical exclusivity. I think it's wrong to teach that the Catholic Church alone enjoys the legacy of legitimate apostolic succession (an unbroken line of leadership and tradition going back to the apostles). And above all I think it's wrong to deny fellow Christians communion. Really wrong.
But the wrong here is on both sides of the schism. I do believe that the Church is right and good. I want to see unity restored to the Body of Christ. I don't know what to demand that the Catholic Church do better when many Protestants are unwilling to place themselves in the timeline of church history and think about how their Christian religion has been handed down to them from the church fathers. Some even consider the Church to be a corrupt (or worse, apostate) institution. How can I want the Catholic Church to speak with inclusion about people who don't want to be included? Well, this frustrates me.
I understand not sharing the Eucharist with those who deny the Real Presence of Christ in the host. That makes sense, I hate to admit, and this points to a familiar theme in ecumenical dialogue where disagreements perpetuate the rift and resolution seems millenia away. I see it like this: Catholics won't invite Protestants to the table, and most of them don't want to come anyway.
In all this, I am encouraged by the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
"The Church is One."
817 "In subsequent centuries serious dissensions appeared and large communities became separated from full communion with the Catholic Church - for which, often enough, men of both sides were to blame." The ruptures that wound the unity of Christ's Body... do not occur without human sin.
818 "However, one cannot charge with the sin of the separation those who at present are born into these communities and in them are brought up in the faith of Christ, and the Catholic Church accepts them with respect and affection as brothers... They have a right to be called Christians, and with good reason are accepted as brothers in the Lord by the children of the Catholic Church."
820 The Church must always pray and work to maintain, reinforce, and perfect the unity that Christ wills for her. That is why Jesus himself prayed at the hour of his Passion, and does not cease praying to his Father, for the unity of his disciples: "That they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be one in us... so that the world may know that you have sent me."
Notes:
I omitted footnotes and cross references. Please refer to the full text here.
Regarding communion, I am aware that I am not addressing Orthodox or certain Anglican groups, and that they provide notable and interesting exceptions.
The icon above shows Constantine and the Fathers of the First Council of Nicaea holding the Nicene Creed of 381. This discussion comes from the Four Marks of the Church specified in the creed. I also like the undeniably Catholic flavor of the statement of orthodoxy that unites all Christians.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Holding onto the Good
Hi there. Post about my journey to Catholicism #2.
I'd like to affirm openly that I am becoming Catholic even after having had many great experiences in my evangelical Christian upbringing, and that this move should not be interpreted as a reaction against previous churches or as a gesture of disgust. Through this process of attraction to Catholicism, I have realized that I want to spend my life working for ecumenism. I know that I can only join the Church if it is for the cause of the unity of the body of Christ and for the sake of ushering in his Kingdom. I'm not sure how this works out exactly, and I've never been comfortable labeling my religion with anything other than "Christian." But I know what is right, and I know that this is what I need to do. And I think I will probably care this passionately about ecumenism for the rest of my life.
I have moved around too much, and perhaps the hardest thing about each relocation is leaving behind a church community (especially when leaving Madrid, my island in Maine, and the community in Jackson, TN). I feel the separations keenly and with deep regret.
Each church has its particular weak places and things I wish were better. But I am not turning to Catholicism out of any bitterness or any particularly negative experiences with Protestantism. I love the tradition that raised me. I appreciate the good training I've received: the familiarity with the Bible gained from 8 years in a Reformed school and 4 years at Union University, the freedom of expressive worship that I've always known, the comfort and familiarity with movements of the Holy Spirit, my mentors (none were Catholic), my Baptist people, all of you. The evangelical expression of the Christian faith that I've known is vibrant and exciting and quite healthy.
It's just that I spent some time with a more beautiful liturgy, and the mystery and the beauty of it stuns me and enthralls me and keeps me coming back. I'm amazed. It's that good.
This brings me to the subject of traditions: all Christians have them. Some traditions (habits, rituals, liturgies) are better than others. If I'm going to have liturgy, (and really, everyone does, even if the liturgy is very casual or involves continually changing the expression of worship) I have realized that I really prefer thoughtful, well-developed, time-tested, orthodox, deep stuff. I like using the Liturgy of the Hours and knowing that Christians have been thinking about the words and developing them for centuries. I like liturgical practices that have marinated in the best Christian thought and endured the test of time. I know that most Catholic traditions have made their way to me via many more intelligent, more serious, more experienced, more dedicated and scholarly Christians than myself.
I love to explore the inexhaustibly profound intricacies of the Mass and know that there will always be more to find out.
Christianity is really cool.
May we all grow to understand and love one another more, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.
I'd like to affirm openly that I am becoming Catholic even after having had many great experiences in my evangelical Christian upbringing, and that this move should not be interpreted as a reaction against previous churches or as a gesture of disgust. Through this process of attraction to Catholicism, I have realized that I want to spend my life working for ecumenism. I know that I can only join the Church if it is for the cause of the unity of the body of Christ and for the sake of ushering in his Kingdom. I'm not sure how this works out exactly, and I've never been comfortable labeling my religion with anything other than "Christian." But I know what is right, and I know that this is what I need to do. And I think I will probably care this passionately about ecumenism for the rest of my life.
I have moved around too much, and perhaps the hardest thing about each relocation is leaving behind a church community (especially when leaving Madrid, my island in Maine, and the community in Jackson, TN). I feel the separations keenly and with deep regret.
Each church has its particular weak places and things I wish were better. But I am not turning to Catholicism out of any bitterness or any particularly negative experiences with Protestantism. I love the tradition that raised me. I appreciate the good training I've received: the familiarity with the Bible gained from 8 years in a Reformed school and 4 years at Union University, the freedom of expressive worship that I've always known, the comfort and familiarity with movements of the Holy Spirit, my mentors (none were Catholic), my Baptist people, all of you. The evangelical expression of the Christian faith that I've known is vibrant and exciting and quite healthy.
It's just that I spent some time with a more beautiful liturgy, and the mystery and the beauty of it stuns me and enthralls me and keeps me coming back. I'm amazed. It's that good.
This brings me to the subject of traditions: all Christians have them. Some traditions (habits, rituals, liturgies) are better than others. If I'm going to have liturgy, (and really, everyone does, even if the liturgy is very casual or involves continually changing the expression of worship) I have realized that I really prefer thoughtful, well-developed, time-tested, orthodox, deep stuff. I like using the Liturgy of the Hours and knowing that Christians have been thinking about the words and developing them for centuries. I like liturgical practices that have marinated in the best Christian thought and endured the test of time. I know that most Catholic traditions have made their way to me via many more intelligent, more serious, more experienced, more dedicated and scholarly Christians than myself.
I love to explore the inexhaustibly profound intricacies of the Mass and know that there will always be more to find out.
Christianity is really cool.
May we all grow to understand and love one another more, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Dear friends, I am becoming Catholic.
I am becoming Catholic, and you deserve an explanation.
Since I moved to Colorado (literally, since my first Sunday) I have been attending Mass and falling in love with the Church. I am overwhelmed by beauty, delighted by liturgy, transfixed by sacraments, fascinated by mystery, comforted by orthodoxy. I attended confirmation classes, studied the Cathechism, and did a lot of reading. I talked with a lot of people: the priests, the Catholic friends I met, many friends who aren't Catholic but love me and love church unity, too. And with deeply concerned, disapproving Protestants. I talk with my brother. And I talk with a thoughtful, patient, sincere man named Matthew. But that's another story. This is about how I love the Catholic Church, not just about how I love him.
In my first month in Boulder, I found myself dating a Catholic, and I told him upfront that I would never, ever become Catholic (so deal with it!).
In my third month here I joined RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, confirmation class), not to join the Church, of course, because I was never going to do that. But just to learn more, meet more people at my new "home church," and have interesting conversations. I also wanted to get the lowdown on why I couldn't take Communion.
By Spring I was pretty distraught over being denied Communion with my community. Every week, every Mass. It gets real old. Except for that, I had decided that the Catholic Church was pretty wonderful, and thought it was too bad that wasn't part of my identity. We are tribal when it comes to religious expression. My people are not high-church people.
Summertime 2012 I decided to rejoin RCIA for my second year in Boulder, and at least pretend that this time I would really go through with confirmation. I secretly thought that probably I would still find some way out, and not have to commit to Catholicism for the rest of my life. I don't know. I balk at the totality of the commitment.
On the second of December 2012, the Church welcomed me in the Rite of Acceptance as a candidate for confirmation, and I am officially on my way to First Communion this Easter. And I'm excited. Deeply. I can't wait.
How did this happen? How do I discern this despite my objections and doubts? What are my reasons?
It has been a long journey. It's convenient to refer to my time studying Catholic art in Spain and cite my Honors Program Thesis: an enthusiastic celebration of the strong tradition of Catholic art, why the Reformers were wrong, and how Protestants need to learn from the Catholic tradition. And it's easy to refer to my pilgrimage to Rome in my third year of college, my unexpected and life-changing encounter with holiness at a candlelight Mass at Trinità dei Monti for Easter Vigil, my joyful Easter at the Vatican, my obsession with Christian art and history. (I mean, I just reread the other blog posts here, and I'm surprised how consistently I was inspired by Catholic Stuff). But the journey has come a long way since then, and my enthusiasm has only grown. Familiarity fostered love.
My doubts are many. I agonize over this, I do.
I'm a bit terrified.
I'm very, very serious. Brow furrowed, nose in books, snapping questions, praying agonized prayers. Absolutely overawed during Mass, holding my breath for reverence. Feeling foreign, feeling alien, feeling disturbed, feeling actual hostility toward some of the things I call "Catholic Crap," feeling clumsy, feeling humbled. Asking myself, will I regret this? to the point of tears. Knowing that I am still so ignorant of what I'm getting myself into.
But I'm also joyful. I am doing this out of love for the Church, passion for orthodoxy and the unity of the Christian church, and an ardent desire to partake in the Eucharist and the other sacraments. Every day confirms in me that I am choosing well, and what I am doing with this decision glorifies God.
I'm not fully committed yet. I still have some months to deal with my doubts and get used to the idea of calling myself a Catholic. The label feels very foreign, very "other." Until then, I'd like to explain further what I've learned, how I've changed certain ideas and practices in myself, how I've not changed, how I still disagree or disapprove of some Catholic stuff, and the details of how I've come to love and defend the Church anyway.
Thank you to every listening heart and every open mind I've encountered along the way. I love you, friends.
Would you like to stay tuned?
Since I moved to Colorado (literally, since my first Sunday) I have been attending Mass and falling in love with the Church. I am overwhelmed by beauty, delighted by liturgy, transfixed by sacraments, fascinated by mystery, comforted by orthodoxy. I attended confirmation classes, studied the Cathechism, and did a lot of reading. I talked with a lot of people: the priests, the Catholic friends I met, many friends who aren't Catholic but love me and love church unity, too. And with deeply concerned, disapproving Protestants. I talk with my brother. And I talk with a thoughtful, patient, sincere man named Matthew. But that's another story. This is about how I love the Catholic Church, not just about how I love him.
In my first month in Boulder, I found myself dating a Catholic, and I told him upfront that I would never, ever become Catholic (so deal with it!).
In my third month here I joined RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, confirmation class), not to join the Church, of course, because I was never going to do that. But just to learn more, meet more people at my new "home church," and have interesting conversations. I also wanted to get the lowdown on why I couldn't take Communion.
By Spring I was pretty distraught over being denied Communion with my community. Every week, every Mass. It gets real old. Except for that, I had decided that the Catholic Church was pretty wonderful, and thought it was too bad that wasn't part of my identity. We are tribal when it comes to religious expression. My people are not high-church people.
Summertime 2012 I decided to rejoin RCIA for my second year in Boulder, and at least pretend that this time I would really go through with confirmation. I secretly thought that probably I would still find some way out, and not have to commit to Catholicism for the rest of my life. I don't know. I balk at the totality of the commitment.
On the second of December 2012, the Church welcomed me in the Rite of Acceptance as a candidate for confirmation, and I am officially on my way to First Communion this Easter. And I'm excited. Deeply. I can't wait.
How did this happen? How do I discern this despite my objections and doubts? What are my reasons?
It has been a long journey. It's convenient to refer to my time studying Catholic art in Spain and cite my Honors Program Thesis: an enthusiastic celebration of the strong tradition of Catholic art, why the Reformers were wrong, and how Protestants need to learn from the Catholic tradition. And it's easy to refer to my pilgrimage to Rome in my third year of college, my unexpected and life-changing encounter with holiness at a candlelight Mass at Trinità dei Monti for Easter Vigil, my joyful Easter at the Vatican, my obsession with Christian art and history. (I mean, I just reread the other blog posts here, and I'm surprised how consistently I was inspired by Catholic Stuff). But the journey has come a long way since then, and my enthusiasm has only grown. Familiarity fostered love.
My doubts are many. I agonize over this, I do.
I'm a bit terrified.
I'm very, very serious. Brow furrowed, nose in books, snapping questions, praying agonized prayers. Absolutely overawed during Mass, holding my breath for reverence. Feeling foreign, feeling alien, feeling disturbed, feeling actual hostility toward some of the things I call "Catholic Crap," feeling clumsy, feeling humbled. Asking myself, will I regret this? to the point of tears. Knowing that I am still so ignorant of what I'm getting myself into.
But I'm also joyful. I am doing this out of love for the Church, passion for orthodoxy and the unity of the Christian church, and an ardent desire to partake in the Eucharist and the other sacraments. Every day confirms in me that I am choosing well, and what I am doing with this decision glorifies God.
I'm not fully committed yet. I still have some months to deal with my doubts and get used to the idea of calling myself a Catholic. The label feels very foreign, very "other." Until then, I'd like to explain further what I've learned, how I've changed certain ideas and practices in myself, how I've not changed, how I still disagree or disapprove of some Catholic stuff, and the details of how I've come to love and defend the Church anyway.
Thank you to every listening heart and every open mind I've encountered along the way. I love you, friends.
Would you like to stay tuned?
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| My favorite day: Easter Vigil at St. Thomas Aquinas University Parish in Boulder. This is my church, this is what I love, and this is where I will take my First Communion, Lord willing, at Easter this year. |
Friday, November 4, 2011
Hymn for the Mountaintop
Sometimes the scariest things in life are the most rewarding. The symbol of ascending a mountain has been speaking well to me about it recently.
This is about biking eight miles up a mountain in the dark before sunrise. It's about scary journeys. It's about traveling a long way in the cold, feeling the warmth of sunrise, welcoming the morning. Cresting the canyon and seeing the glaciers and snowfields in the Western mountains. Realizing you've arrived an a place of astonishing beauty. Realizing your new life is turning out to be filled with incredible blessings.
This is about moving to Colorado.
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
3 my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield and the horn of my salvation.
He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—
from violent people you save me.
7 “In my distress I called to the LORD;
I called out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came to his ears.
10 He parted the heavens and came down;
dark clouds were under his feet.
11 He mounted the cherubim and flew;
he soared on the wings of the wind.
12 He made darkness his canopy around him—
the dark rain clouds of the sky.
13 Out of the brightness of his presence
bolts of lightning blazed forth.
14 The LORD thundered from heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded.
17 “He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
18 He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
19 They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the LORD was my support.
20 He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.
21 “The LORD has dealt with me according to my righteousness;
according to the cleanness of my hands he has rewarded me.
22 For I have kept the ways of the LORD;
I am not guilty of turning from my God.
23 All his laws are before me;
I have not turned away from his decrees.
24 I have been blameless before him
and have kept myself from sin.
25 The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness,
according to my cleanness in his sight.
26 “To the faithful you show yourself faithful,
to the blameless you show yourself blameless,
27 to the pure you show yourself pure,
but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.
28 You save the humble,
but your eyes are on the haughty to bring them low.
29 You, LORD, are my lamp;
the LORD turns my darkness into light.
34 He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he causes me to stand on the heights.
35 He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
47 “The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock!
Exalted be my God, the Rock, my Savior!
This is about biking eight miles up a mountain in the dark before sunrise. It's about scary journeys. It's about traveling a long way in the cold, feeling the warmth of sunrise, welcoming the morning. Cresting the canyon and seeing the glaciers and snowfields in the Western mountains. Realizing you've arrived an a place of astonishing beauty. Realizing your new life is turning out to be filled with incredible blessings.
This is about moving to Colorado.
Psalm 73:6
My flesh and my heart may fail,but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
2 Samuel 22 A Song of Praise
1 David sang to the LORD the words of this song when the LORD delivered him from the hand of all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. 2 He said: “The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;3 my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield and the horn of my salvation.
He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—
from violent people you save me.
7 “In my distress I called to the LORD;
I called out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came to his ears.
10 He parted the heavens and came down;
dark clouds were under his feet.
11 He mounted the cherubim and flew;
he soared on the wings of the wind.
12 He made darkness his canopy around him—
the dark rain clouds of the sky.
13 Out of the brightness of his presence
bolts of lightning blazed forth.
14 The LORD thundered from heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded.
17 “He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
18 He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
19 They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the LORD was my support.
20 He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.
21 “The LORD has dealt with me according to my righteousness;
according to the cleanness of my hands he has rewarded me.
22 For I have kept the ways of the LORD;
I am not guilty of turning from my God.
23 All his laws are before me;
I have not turned away from his decrees.
24 I have been blameless before him
and have kept myself from sin.
25 The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness,
according to my cleanness in his sight.
26 “To the faithful you show yourself faithful,
to the blameless you show yourself blameless,
27 to the pure you show yourself pure,
but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.
28 You save the humble,
but your eyes are on the haughty to bring them low.
29 You, LORD, are my lamp;
the LORD turns my darkness into light.
34 He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he causes me to stand on the heights.
35 He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
47 “The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock!
Exalted be my God, the Rock, my Savior!
 |
| The Summit of Green Mountain, Boulder |
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