Neither Gentile nor Jew, Servant nor Free, Woman nor Man: Age 18

When I was 18, I decided that the Catholic Church was not for me and left it behind.

I had been completely confused by what my teachers were dishing out in Religion class. I had parents who sort of flirted with the idea that there was really not much difference between denominations. Though it was a requirement to go to Mass each week, I had no idea why it was so important. My pastor was so caught up in social justice issues that he forgot to teach the Faith that backs it all up and makes it make sense.

As a result of all these mixed messages, I believed that not even the Church knew what it was teaching. Asking those three entities what Church teaching was on any given subject might yield three different answers.

So there I was, the summer after my senior year, desperately looking for a spiritual home. And I found one at a local evangelical megachurch. The services were engaging and uplifting and I found more than a little support for asking questions and they seemed more than happy to help me find the answers.

In those days, there was not yet a definitive Catechism of the Catholic Church, nor was there access to the vast resources of the Internet to research and find answers. When I asked questions, I got two kinds of responses: 1) a kind of a wishy-washy response about "following my conscience" or 2) I would get answers that seemed rehearsed and didn't seem to come from a grounding in scripture at all.

***

I had been away from Mass for several months when my father asked me to come and sing with his parish choir for Christmas. The music that was routinely played at the services that I went to at my evangelical church were simply no match for the majestic beauty of the choral masterpieces that my parents' parish choir was singing. So, on the First Sunday of Advent, I went to Mass to sing with the choir.

Music has always been a path to God for me. I find that every time I have a close encounter with God, music is involved either as an inspiration, a response to the experience or just the sign pointing to the beginning of the road. This time it was no different. It was love of the music that drew me to Church that day and marked the beginning of the path back.

I didn't go to Communion, of course. I still thought it was just a symbol and I didn't need a wafer to get close to God. I carried His Word in my heart, but I can remember meditating on the people coming back from Communion. No custody of the eyes for me: I was completely unaware that watching people receive Communion was kind of rude.

I spotted one of the kids I grew up with lurking at the back of the church. I always assumed that he was a juvenile delinquent. He had kind of a rough attitude and was always dressed like he was more ready for the bar, than church. But I recalled that he seemed to be here every Sunday.

He filed up to receive Communion behind one of the sweetest little old ladies I have ever known - one right behind the other - and with the same light shining in their eyes and an attitude of complete trust, they both received Communion. I realized in that very moment that there must be something here. There must be something real here.

I closed my eyes and realized that all over the world there were thousands of people receiving the Eucharist at that very moment.  It was something that united all of us: the bad, the good, the rich and the poor. People who had lived before me and those who would come after me, too. Heaven help me, I actually heard the first verse of "One Bread, One Body" playing in my head: "Gentile or Jew, servant or free, woman or man, no more..." We truly are one body in Jesus Christ. And if the Eucharist crossed all those boundaries it could not possibly be untrue.

I was still unaware of the meaning of the term "Communion of Saints", but I had an experience of it in my head that day.  I suddenly became aware of the unity that exists in the Eucharist - a unity that transcends time and space. It was life-altering.

Since that morning, I have never doubted the efficacy of the Eucharist. I knew it did something real, but it would be a few more years before I understood the Real Presence. I knew that there was something about it, and that I needed it. I realized that I had been missing it. It was food for those on a journey and I was definitely on a journey. But as yet, I still did not understand the reality of Jesus (body, blood, soul and divinity) in the Eucharist.

***

The thing I found so appealing about the evangelical megachurch I became attached to was if there was a question, they knew where to get the answer. They always looked to the Bible. In my experience, the Catholic Church simply didn't have that knowledge of the Word of God. But, the strength of this ability to go to scripture also becomes its weakness. The problem with the Sola Scriptura mindset is that there's a question of interpretation. Some things just can't be explained neatly. If I disagree with your interpretation, for example, who's right?

Because of the hierarchical structure of the Catholic Church, there is an ultimate authority for interpretation. In my 30's I would eventually figure that out, but as a teenager, I was still very dedicated to having my own say and my own way. The breakdown happens when individuals decide that they don't like the Church's authoritative teaching so they throw it out. That's why I was getting different stories from different quarters.

Intellectual Pride is a constant struggle for me. I always want to handle things myself and then, once I have it handled, get back to God. Unfortunately, that's exactly the wrong order. I'm still working on that one: Poverty of Spirit and Humility are virtues that still elude me.

Additionally, there is an actual grace that is imparted in the Sacraments that you simply do not get elsewhere. While we have grace showered on us from all corners, the close, personal encounters with Christ through the sacraments give specific graces to strengthen us and build up charity in our lives. This is crucial to building understanding between ourselves and the world around us, as well as in our own hearts - leading us to know who we are as sons and daughters of God.

***

After realizing that there was a reality that I had missed in Communion, I couldn't wait to get to Communion the next week. Of course, I had no idea that I needed to go to Confession, but that would come later.

God used the Grace of the Sacraments to bring me closer to him and began to renovate my soul. I had found one missing piece, but was still searching for that scriptural support.

Conversion is a funny thing: Age 16

I've been thinking a lot about my conversion lately. I was raised Catholic, and apart from a very short period of time when I was 18, I was always Catholic. But not exactly the best Catholic. There were a lot of things I simply did not understand about the Faith. 

I'm not sure why, but my conversion has just really been on my mind a lot recently. I don't really think of it in terms of a knocked-to-the-ground conversion moment. It's really very much a knocked-to-the-ground-repeatedly series of events. Maybe that's why I haven't ever written about it.

It's a really complex story. It takes a lot of twists and turns. It's not a straight line and it's not a moment in time when I knew the Truth. As a matter of fact, God and I have sparred with each other for about 30 years now and he's still not finished with me yet.

Conversion is a funny thing. It's completely individual for each person. Placing a formula on conversion is like trying to buy a wedding dress off the rack at Filene's Basement - and not have any alterations done. It's impossible. Well, at least close to it.

My conversion, for example, has been a case of learning that without God, I am nothing. I am not in control of the world around me, only God is. And furthermore, God can bring great good out of the most tragic evils that we can throw at Him.

I can't really tell my whole story in all it's gory detail.  There's passion, betrayal, joy, suffering, death, despair, triumph and even a few encounters with the voice of God.  But I can share one of the most important things I have learned: Without an encounter, a personal encounter, with Jesus Christ, there is no real conversion.

This series will be kind of catch-as-catch-can. We'll see where this takes us. Today, though, we'll begin at 16.

The "Mother Ship" - Immaculate Conception Church
My native parish.

 - Age 16 - 

I can remember going to spend time in the church in the middle of the night when I was a teenager. Things would get tough at home and I'd go for a walk to clear my head or get some space. Almost every time I would end up sitting in front of the tabernacle at Immaculate Conception. I wasn't sure why, but I knew that it was the right place to be.

The homeless men who took shelter against the elements in the church pews never bothered me. Maybe I was too certain of my invincibility or just too dumb to be afraid (I was a teenager, after all,) or maybe I really had nothing to fear. I remember there being a great deal of dissention within the parish about the dangers of leaving the church unlocked. Regardless of what my pastor's motivation was for keeping the doors of our urban church unlocked day and night, I will always be eternally grateful for the spiritual shelter of the always-open church.

Even at that young age, I would sing to the Lord in the silence of the Church or just sit quietly and contemplate the tabernacle. I had no real understanding of the reality of the Eucharist at the time, mind you. Despite my very expensive Catholic school education, I truly believed that the Eucharist was just a symbol. It was just a piece of bread that represented something that I could never attain.

I knew about the Bible. I read the entire Bible my Third and Fourth grade year. I read a chapter a night until I was finished. Of course, I didn't understand it, but it was a start. And the actual words went to work on my heart - whether or not I knew or understood them. I can see that now. But, I couldn't see it at 16.

Church was just a quiet place to be and the altar of reservation was just so lovely, I couldn't help but be drawn to it. I had no idea that Jesus was actually calling to me. He was wooing me and courting me, just as my husband would a few years later. Jesus wanted so very much to be with me and be my strength and my comfort in my tumultuous life. I wasn't so sure. I was so caught up in finding out who I was, that I neglected to find out who he was. I had no idea that when I took the time to find out who Jesus really was, I would find myself, too.

To me, Jesus was just a nice idea. A nice guy, who never got angry or threw things (I kinda skipped that whole "expelling the money changers from the temple" thing, I guess). Jesus was a perfect person. I would never be a perfect person. Even more remote was the idea of his mother, Mary. How could someone be that perfect? Not me. I was as far from perfect as I could get.

The divine life was a concept for me. It was a construct of harps and angels, and clouds and blue skies that was so far removed from my experience that I could not even conceive of such a place or of such persons. God was just an idea. There was nothing personal about him for me.

It is very hard to have an encounter with an idea. Ideas have no real substance and carry no weight. Part of the beauty of the Incarnation is the fact that through God's revelation of the person of Jesus, we are able to put a face with a name. We are able to touch the face of God. And, in fact, through the sacraments, we do just exactly that. In the Eucharist we touch God and he becomes one with us.

There is a sensual experience of receiving and adoring the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus in the Eucharist. There is something tangible in spending time with the Blessed Sacrament. It's not just an idea or a magic trick. It is a reality. It brings us, not just close to God, but we become subsumed into the Body of Christ by receiving Him into our bodies in a real and tangible way.

I am no Theology of the Body expert. Heck, I'm not an expert on anything but liturgical music. I just know what my experience has been.

If you want to get close to the Lord, if you want to have a personal relationship with Jesus, you have to start with the Sacraments. Each one becomes a conduit through which we receive and build Grace and Charity. But there are three, in particular, that specifically speak to my journey.

Through Confession, he speaks to me, personally.
Through the Eucharist, he actively storms the borders of my comfortable little life.
Through Confirmation, he called me to take the light of Grace to the world.

Is Jesus calling to you? Will you let him win your heart?