Monday, August 26, 2002
Heather: Dale posted a link to Amy Welborn's recent blog, and in there she said something like: "This condescension toward converts has got to stop." (My apologies if I misquoted.)
I couldn't say it better myself.
I was raised a pretty nominal Catholic. Yeah, we went to Mass regularly on Sundays and for Christmas up through high school, but I'd never heard of holy days of obligation until somewhere in college (I think). We observed a lighter Lent (we were let off the hook on Sundays) but none of us three kids got confirmed until adulthood.
I guess I was the most observant of us kids as, when I was home from college, I would go to Mass with my mom the once a month minimum that she asked without a lot of gnashing teeth or whining. I never saw her or my dad ever go to confession. The closest is when my mom goes to the communal penance services during Advent and Lent, though she doesn't take advantage of the opportunity for individual reconciliation.
So I was Catholic, I guess. I would have called myself "a recovering Catholic" if you'd asked.
Somewhere along the way, though, it started to matter. Dale and I had been dating about six months and I was talking about him with a friend's mom. Mind you, she's not Catholic but is a very devout Christian (evangelical, I think). She had some words of wisdom for me: "Heather, have you talked about religion with him? I know your faith means a lot to you." Actually, I hadn't realized it did until that moment. You can take the girl out of the Church, but you can't take the Church out of the girl.
I asked Dale about religion and we agreed that it was important for a family and children. We agreed that both parents should be the same faith to avoid confusion for the kids. My next question, a little nervously, was, "Would you be willing to be Catholic?" (He was raised more loosely Methodist than I was Catholic.) His reply? "I can think of worse things," in such a tone that he'd be willing to investigate it.
Investigate it he has and continues to do. Yes, I'm the cradle Catholic but he's the one I go to with questions. He has no less than 8 two-inch binders of information he's printed up from the Catholic Encyclopedia, Catholic Answers, and other sources in answer to his questions. He has accumulated at least 7 shelves of books to explain things he wondered. He goes to confession every other week or he does not take Communion in Mass. He can tell me what was decided at the Councils of Trent, Nicaea, et cetera and when those occurred. He is a paragon of Catholic example and here's the stunning part for Father McCloskey: he's the convert! Not I!
HE has motivated ME to investigate beyond "We just do it that way because we always have;" my 1970's formation classes of crayons and glitter; my former indifference to the music and sacrament and liturgy; my crumbled distrust of the Catholic "patriarchy." HIS knowledge, curiosity and respect have taught me so much!
It hurts me sometimes when I think about his offhand mention that sometimes he feels shortchanged. We've both heard of the days of "smells and bells," lots of drama and awe, whispered rosaries and covered heads. Now we come to Mass with teenagers in spaghetti straps and jeans, chewing gum with their hands in their pockets. We see 9- and 10-year-old kids standing on the pews, leaning on grandparents who read the bulletin during the homily. We see the (maybe?) ten people coming for confession every week and the sparsely populated Holy Day masses.
Still he comes. I come as much out of habit; he comes out of love. That's why the converts are so vocal, Fr. McCloskey. THEY are not coming out of habit but out of love.
I couldn't say it better myself.
I was raised a pretty nominal Catholic. Yeah, we went to Mass regularly on Sundays and for Christmas up through high school, but I'd never heard of holy days of obligation until somewhere in college (I think). We observed a lighter Lent (we were let off the hook on Sundays) but none of us three kids got confirmed until adulthood.
I guess I was the most observant of us kids as, when I was home from college, I would go to Mass with my mom the once a month minimum that she asked without a lot of gnashing teeth or whining. I never saw her or my dad ever go to confession. The closest is when my mom goes to the communal penance services during Advent and Lent, though she doesn't take advantage of the opportunity for individual reconciliation.
So I was Catholic, I guess. I would have called myself "a recovering Catholic" if you'd asked.
Somewhere along the way, though, it started to matter. Dale and I had been dating about six months and I was talking about him with a friend's mom. Mind you, she's not Catholic but is a very devout Christian (evangelical, I think). She had some words of wisdom for me: "Heather, have you talked about religion with him? I know your faith means a lot to you." Actually, I hadn't realized it did until that moment. You can take the girl out of the Church, but you can't take the Church out of the girl.
I asked Dale about religion and we agreed that it was important for a family and children. We agreed that both parents should be the same faith to avoid confusion for the kids. My next question, a little nervously, was, "Would you be willing to be Catholic?" (He was raised more loosely Methodist than I was Catholic.) His reply? "I can think of worse things," in such a tone that he'd be willing to investigate it.
Investigate it he has and continues to do. Yes, I'm the cradle Catholic but he's the one I go to with questions. He has no less than 8 two-inch binders of information he's printed up from the Catholic Encyclopedia, Catholic Answers, and other sources in answer to his questions. He has accumulated at least 7 shelves of books to explain things he wondered. He goes to confession every other week or he does not take Communion in Mass. He can tell me what was decided at the Councils of Trent, Nicaea, et cetera and when those occurred. He is a paragon of Catholic example and here's the stunning part for Father McCloskey: he's the convert! Not I!
HE has motivated ME to investigate beyond "We just do it that way because we always have;" my 1970's formation classes of crayons and glitter; my former indifference to the music and sacrament and liturgy; my crumbled distrust of the Catholic "patriarchy." HIS knowledge, curiosity and respect have taught me so much!
It hurts me sometimes when I think about his offhand mention that sometimes he feels shortchanged. We've both heard of the days of "smells and bells," lots of drama and awe, whispered rosaries and covered heads. Now we come to Mass with teenagers in spaghetti straps and jeans, chewing gum with their hands in their pockets. We see 9- and 10-year-old kids standing on the pews, leaning on grandparents who read the bulletin during the homily. We see the (maybe?) ten people coming for confession every week and the sparsely populated Holy Day masses.
Still he comes. I come as much out of habit; he comes out of love. That's why the converts are so vocal, Fr. McCloskey. THEY are not coming out of habit but out of love.
