+JMJ+
Very pleased to have had my conversion story published in Commonweal this month.
Showing posts with label conversion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conversion. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
Acatamiento: The Experience of the Transcendent God
+JMJ+
In his Spiritual Diary, St. Ignatius of Loyola used the word "acatamiento," which is virtually untranslatable to English, to express his "...heightened awareness of the transcendental personal presence of God. It is a felt mood of mind and heart...."*
Reflecting on the times in my own life when I have been aware of God's Presence to me, I realize how easy it is to forget such experiences as they recede into personal history. They are important, moments to be savored and treasured, and I don't want to forget them! To that end, I decided I would try, when I have time and am in the mood, to write about some of them. Therefore, this blog entry will periodically be revised as I add additional memories to it. Probably no one will ever read it but me, but that's OK!
1. September 11, 1981: God comes to me on the bus! When I first moved to Georgia in 1980, I came with a friend/roommate, who, in addition to being an alcoholic, was a very troubled person in general. I was pretty troubled myself at that time: I had gotten divorced in November 1977 after a very short and unhappy marriage, and following my bitter experience with marriage, I had arbitrarily decided to try out being a lesbian, since I felt like I didn't want to be around men again, ever! Amazing as this sounds, at that time I honestly believed that you could actually choose your sexuality, and I decided I would be gay! So, after I got divorced, Marie (she is dead now, so I will call her by her real name) had become my lesbian lover, and my "project," as I determined that I would try to fix her life and turn her into a happier, more confident and functional person.
I now see how controlling and manipulative this was, but whenever Marie wanted to do anything that seemed to me to be a positive move, I encouraged her in it. For example, she expressed interest in getting a Master's degree, but believed that she was not smart enough to do it. I, however, knew that anyone with normal intelligence and determination could get a Master's degree, and in order to make this happen for her, I signed up to take the first course in her program too, in order to ease her into it by going with her and doing the same work. When she announced that she wanted to stop smoking, I agreed to stop smoking too, because I knew that she would never be able to do it if she had to live with a smoker. Then, when she said she wanted to move to Georgia (where my parents had recently relocated), I agreed to that too--my secret motive being getting her away from her heavy-drinking friends and the gay bar scene in St. Louis.
Once we moved, she immediately got a teaching job, but in a fundamentalist Christian school. During the first or second week she was there, one of her students very aggressively recruited her to come to church with her. She was quite incensed, and told the student that she was Catholic. She really wasn't; although she had been raised Catholic, she had not actually practiced her Faith for many years. But when she came home that night and told me about this, to my great surprise, she said she wanted to go back to the Catholic Church.
As usual, I immediately agreed to accompany her, because--despite being an atheist myself--I had the culturally conditioned assumption that going to church was "a good thing," the sort of activity that normal adults participated in. It was only later that night, that I suddenly realized that this was something I just didn't think I could stomach. Being a non-believer, the thought of having to attend church and pretend to a belief I did not have, seemed intolerable to me. I did not know what to do, and I definitely did not want to disappoint her by telling her that I just couldn't do this... but I had one idea. That night, and the following night, right before going to sleep, I said, "God, if You are really there, make me believe in You, because I don't." That was the extent of my effort: two snarky attempts, and I stopped.
A couple days after this, my boss sent me to the Georgia State University Bookstore to meet with one of their Book Buyers, who had promised to donate some books to the library where I was then working. I arrived early, and while waiting for the Buyer to appear, I wandered around the store, enjoying the experience of being in a college bookstore again after so many years. I found myself near the Religion Section, and as I looked over the titles, I laughed to see all the miscellaneous stuff that such bookstores typically classify as "Religion." I noticed one book by an author I recognized, Thomas Merton. I had read his autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, when I was in high school, and had liked it. Impulsively, I bought the book, The Ascent to Truth, which is about St. John of the Cross.
I put the book in my purse and forgot about it until I was on the bus riding home from work that night. Bored, I took it out and started reading it. Although I still have this book, I have never been able to identify the sentence I read--but I read something, and all of a sudden, there was this amazing sensation of warmth that came over me, starting at my head and flowing down to my toes. I can't explain it, but I realized I was in the presence of God, and in one second, I changed from a non-believer into a believer.
Fortunately, I was near my stop, because I was about to fall apart... I stumbled off the bus to my car, threw myself into the driver's seat, and began to sob uncontrollably with pure JOY; I knew that I had finally found what I had been seeking, without knowing it--all at once, everything in my life seemed to make sense, and I was aware of being completely happy for the first time ever. When I finally composed myself, I started the car and went home. The experience was too profound to share with anyone, but I told Marie that I would call the local Catholic Church and request to begin instructions to enter the Church, which I did the next day.
I met with Fr. Frederick Flaherty, M.S., the pastor, the following week. RCIA barely existed back then, and this was a small parish, so he taught me one-on-one. I soaked up everything I learned like a greedy sponge: I loved EVERYTHING about the Catholic Faith, and I begged him to move up my First Communion and Confirmation, because I wanted to receive the Eucharist desperately. He did escalate it slightly, and I was received into the Church on December 5, 1981.
I will reserve for the next story, another miracle God gave me in answer to prayer, which released me from my immoral relationship, which, of course, I had to leave behind when I accepted the truths of Catholicism. It's so amazing, though, to contemplate the fact that He was able to use an objectively sinful relationship to bring me to Him! It is so absolutely true that He can use anything at all for the good of those who love Him.
2. January 1982: God sends me a priest
Marie and I started attending Mass weekly once I began instructions. We also found a group for gay Catholics called Dignity, which met in Atlanta, and we frequently attended their meetings. The priest who was leading that group, Fr. Henry Gracz, told me that it was OK to be actively gay and Catholic, and since I was quite naive at that time, I believed him--a priest would never tell you anything that wasn't true, right?
Thus, when it was time to make my General Confession prior to being received as a Catholic, I did not include any mention of my relationship to Fr. Flaherty. However, once I actually became a Catholic, I started to question the validity of what Fr. Gracz had told me. I had just finished a pretty comprehensive course on Church teachings, and I knew what was taught about sexual expression outside of marriage. As time went on, I began to feel more and more uncomfortable, and began to avoid sex with Marie, although--since it was actually pretty rare--she didn't seem to notice. However, I could not bear to admit to Fr. Flaherty that I had not been totally honest with him, because we had started to become close friends and I valued the relationship I had with him very much.
The same week I was received into the Church, I had begun attending Daily Mass at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Atlanta, which was right down the street from where I worked. I also became very devoted to prayer, and since I was able to find an isolated place to go in my workplace, I quickly got into the habit of using most of my lunch hour for spiritual reading and prayer. Anyway, about a month after I had become Catholic, early in January 1982, I began praying that God would send me a priest I did not know, so I could confess my sin, be absolved, and end the physical part of my relationship with Marie. By that time, I had begun to accept the fact that I was not gay anyway, and although I felt I really did love her, I was strongly driven to conform completely to Church teaching.
After about a week of making this special request to God, Atlanta was hit with an historic blizzard on January 12, 1982. Although our office closed early that day, it was not early enough, and I stood at my usual bus stop for about two hours before the MARTA buses finally stopped running altogether. My car was parked far away in College Park, and I had no way to get home. Fortunately, anticipating the predicted weather, I had dressed very warmly--however, I had no idea what to do. I wandered around the streets of downtown Atlanta with a lot of other bewildered people for hours, each of us asking others what to do, but no one had any answers. I remember going to an ATM and getting some cash out, thinking that I might end up in a hotel, although I knew I couldn't afford it. There was a Kroger store downtown at that time, and I bought a loaf of bread and some bologna!
Finally, I remembered the Central Presbyterian Night Shelter for the homeless, which was only a few blocks from where I worked. I had been planning to volunteer there, but had not yet gotten around to it. I arrived just in time to be ushered in, along with a big line of homeless men waiting to spend the night there. As soon as I got inside, the handful of volunteers who'd made it that night recognized that I, wearing my London Fog raincoat, was not a homeless person! Since most of the scheduled staff had not been able to get there because of the weather, they asked me to help make sandwiches and get the men settled for the night. I gave them my bread and bologna, and got started. The person in charge introduced himself as Father North--and I realized immediately that here was the priest I had asked God to send me! When I got a chance, I quietly told him that I was a Catholic, and would he mind hearing my Confession later that night, when things quieted down. About 2:00am, he invited me to sit with him, I confessed and he absolved me--although he also said that it wasn't a huge sin to be gay and Catholic!
I was absolutely in a state of profound joy--euphoria, really--having this heavy burden on my conscience lifted, and I spent the rest of the night talking to the men who couldn't sleep. All of us had to clear out at dawn, and I will never forget how I felt coming out into the bright sunlight on all that ice and snow, feeling as though I was deeply changed, and that life would never be the same again.
The buses had started running again, and I quickly got on one. It was amazing to see thousands of cars abandoned all along the interstate from the night before. Although my car was covered when I got to the Park 'n Ride, I was able to clear it off and get it started, and I made it home very slowly, without incident. I was floating on a cloud, but of course I could not tell Marie what had just happened to me. It was not very long after that, perhaps a month or so, when I began to have the first thoughts that perhaps--unbelievable as it seemed--I might possibly have a vocation to religious life.
I put the book in my purse and forgot about it until I was on the bus riding home from work that night. Bored, I took it out and started reading it. Although I still have this book, I have never been able to identify the sentence I read--but I read something, and all of a sudden, there was this amazing sensation of warmth that came over me, starting at my head and flowing down to my toes. I can't explain it, but I realized I was in the presence of God, and in one second, I changed from a non-believer into a believer.
Fortunately, I was near my stop, because I was about to fall apart... I stumbled off the bus to my car, threw myself into the driver's seat, and began to sob uncontrollably with pure JOY; I knew that I had finally found what I had been seeking, without knowing it--all at once, everything in my life seemed to make sense, and I was aware of being completely happy for the first time ever. When I finally composed myself, I started the car and went home. The experience was too profound to share with anyone, but I told Marie that I would call the local Catholic Church and request to begin instructions to enter the Church, which I did the next day.
I met with Fr. Frederick Flaherty, M.S., the pastor, the following week. RCIA barely existed back then, and this was a small parish, so he taught me one-on-one. I soaked up everything I learned like a greedy sponge: I loved EVERYTHING about the Catholic Faith, and I begged him to move up my First Communion and Confirmation, because I wanted to receive the Eucharist desperately. He did escalate it slightly, and I was received into the Church on December 5, 1981.
I will reserve for the next story, another miracle God gave me in answer to prayer, which released me from my immoral relationship, which, of course, I had to leave behind when I accepted the truths of Catholicism. It's so amazing, though, to contemplate the fact that He was able to use an objectively sinful relationship to bring me to Him! It is so absolutely true that He can use anything at all for the good of those who love Him.
2. January 1982: God sends me a priest
Marie and I started attending Mass weekly once I began instructions. We also found a group for gay Catholics called Dignity, which met in Atlanta, and we frequently attended their meetings. The priest who was leading that group, Fr. Henry Gracz, told me that it was OK to be actively gay and Catholic, and since I was quite naive at that time, I believed him--a priest would never tell you anything that wasn't true, right?
Thus, when it was time to make my General Confession prior to being received as a Catholic, I did not include any mention of my relationship to Fr. Flaherty. However, once I actually became a Catholic, I started to question the validity of what Fr. Gracz had told me. I had just finished a pretty comprehensive course on Church teachings, and I knew what was taught about sexual expression outside of marriage. As time went on, I began to feel more and more uncomfortable, and began to avoid sex with Marie, although--since it was actually pretty rare--she didn't seem to notice. However, I could not bear to admit to Fr. Flaherty that I had not been totally honest with him, because we had started to become close friends and I valued the relationship I had with him very much.
The same week I was received into the Church, I had begun attending Daily Mass at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Atlanta, which was right down the street from where I worked. I also became very devoted to prayer, and since I was able to find an isolated place to go in my workplace, I quickly got into the habit of using most of my lunch hour for spiritual reading and prayer. Anyway, about a month after I had become Catholic, early in January 1982, I began praying that God would send me a priest I did not know, so I could confess my sin, be absolved, and end the physical part of my relationship with Marie. By that time, I had begun to accept the fact that I was not gay anyway, and although I felt I really did love her, I was strongly driven to conform completely to Church teaching.
After about a week of making this special request to God, Atlanta was hit with an historic blizzard on January 12, 1982. Although our office closed early that day, it was not early enough, and I stood at my usual bus stop for about two hours before the MARTA buses finally stopped running altogether. My car was parked far away in College Park, and I had no way to get home. Fortunately, anticipating the predicted weather, I had dressed very warmly--however, I had no idea what to do. I wandered around the streets of downtown Atlanta with a lot of other bewildered people for hours, each of us asking others what to do, but no one had any answers. I remember going to an ATM and getting some cash out, thinking that I might end up in a hotel, although I knew I couldn't afford it. There was a Kroger store downtown at that time, and I bought a loaf of bread and some bologna!
Finally, I remembered the Central Presbyterian Night Shelter for the homeless, which was only a few blocks from where I worked. I had been planning to volunteer there, but had not yet gotten around to it. I arrived just in time to be ushered in, along with a big line of homeless men waiting to spend the night there. As soon as I got inside, the handful of volunteers who'd made it that night recognized that I, wearing my London Fog raincoat, was not a homeless person! Since most of the scheduled staff had not been able to get there because of the weather, they asked me to help make sandwiches and get the men settled for the night. I gave them my bread and bologna, and got started. The person in charge introduced himself as Father North--and I realized immediately that here was the priest I had asked God to send me! When I got a chance, I quietly told him that I was a Catholic, and would he mind hearing my Confession later that night, when things quieted down. About 2:00am, he invited me to sit with him, I confessed and he absolved me--although he also said that it wasn't a huge sin to be gay and Catholic!
I was absolutely in a state of profound joy--euphoria, really--having this heavy burden on my conscience lifted, and I spent the rest of the night talking to the men who couldn't sleep. All of us had to clear out at dawn, and I will never forget how I felt coming out into the bright sunlight on all that ice and snow, feeling as though I was deeply changed, and that life would never be the same again.
The buses had started running again, and I quickly got on one. It was amazing to see thousands of cars abandoned all along the interstate from the night before. Although my car was covered when I got to the Park 'n Ride, I was able to clear it off and get it started, and I made it home very slowly, without incident. I was floating on a cloud, but of course I could not tell Marie what had just happened to me. It was not very long after that, perhaps a month or so, when I began to have the first thoughts that perhaps--unbelievable as it seemed--I might possibly have a vocation to religious life.
*Acatamiento, Ignatian reverence in history and contemporary cultureby O'Neill, Charles Edwards. https://archive.org/details/acatamientoignat81onei
Sunday, April 16, 2017
New Catholics!
+JMJ+
Last night at the Easter Vigil, I had the privilege of accompanying two friends (a married couple) who became Catholics. I had not known them prior to becoming involved in RCIA, so I was completely surprised and touched when they asked me if I would be their sponsor! No one has ever done that before, and--as a convert myself--this was very meaningful for me!
The Baptisms were first. All were asked by Father to give their assent to the Creed, which was very moving. In a few moments, Alice stepped down into the pool and knelt in the water so that Father could pour the blessed water over her with silver pitcher: it was so dramatic, so beautiful! I helped her up out of the Baptismal pool and escorted her to the Reconciliation Room, which had been designated as her place to change her clothes, and put on the Baptismal garment. When she came out, we embraced for a long time, and I spontaneously gave her the blessed Eucharist medal I was wearing, which was a memento of my own First Communion in 1981. I loved putting it around her neck!
After all the Baptisms, Father went on to the Sacrament of Confirmation, which both Alice and her husband were receiving. As I stood behind them, I could not stop the tears of joy, as the full force of what was happening in their souls came down on me, recalling for me the blessed day when I received this Sacrament at the hands of my beloved Fr. Flaherty.
Nothing else that ever happens in our lives can transcend the exquisite significance of this event, when we are accepted into Christ's own Church, the Church He established on earth 2,000 years ago, and which has withstood every attempt to bring it down--and there have been many. It will stand until He returns in glory to bring us home. No matter what happens to me, I will always cling to my Faith; last night, I was praying that Alice and Albert will also.
Blessed be God forever!
Saturday, April 1, 2017
A Day of Grace and Memory
+JMJ+
I registered to attend a session of Vincentian University, being held today at St. Gabriel's Church in Fayetteville GA. I had to leave very early in the morning, so the sun was just coming up on a beautiful Spring day when I left home.
As I was driving down South Fulton Parkway, my mind unexpectedly turned to the astonishing fact that here I am--70 years old now--and I am a Catholic! What I wanted so much when I was a child, finally, thanks to the grace of God, did happen! And no matter what else I have done in life, or will do, the essential fact about me--the most important thing to know about me--is that I am a Catholic. It is my core identity.
I confess that I started to weep, as I recalled with overwhelming gratitude all the ways in which God kept calling me until I finally answered Him. I have written about these events in this blog before, so I won't repeat them, but I am continually in awe when I think how totally loved I am--and I can't understand why He kept waiting for me through all those long, miserable years.
As I drove along, I suddenly realized that the GPS on my phone was leading me on a route I had not traveled in over 30 years: straight through Fairburn, where stood the church in which I had been Confirmed and received my First Holy Communion: St. Matthew's, a parish which has since relocated to a new and larger building in Tyrone GA. At that moment, I was hurrying to get to St. Gabriel's on time, but I was very excited to see, as I passed through town, that it is still there. I knew that on the way home that day, I had to stop and see it once again.
It is now some kind of Black Protestant church in a denomination I've never heard of, but I drove into the lot behind the building (which was a funeral home before it became St. Matthew's), to see if I could get in. From the pickup trucks I saw, I knew there were workmen around, but I didn't see anyone, so I brazenly walked right in the unlocked back door... a door to which, thanks to Father Flaherty, I once had a key, and entered often. Sadly, I could see evidence that people had tried several times to break into the building: it's not quite as safe and serene in Fairburn as it was when I was last there, 31 years ago.
The inside seemed familiar, and yet not familiar--there have been some renovations --but I knew the direction in which I needed to go in order to reach the Nave and Sanctuary, and I finally got there.
Except for our altar and beautiful crucifix being gone, it looks much as I remembered it. Next is a picture of the spot where I used to kneel to pray at the back of the church. I always stayed back there, because Father Flaherty was often praying in the tiny Blessed Sacrament chapel to the left of the altar, and I did not want to intrude on his privacy (in those days, the Tabernacle could not be kept behind the altar as it is in the church I attend now).
I then walked to the front and up the 2 steps to where our altar used to be, and stopped in the same place where I stood on that beautiful Saturday morning, December 5, 1981, when Father received me into the Church. I remember everything about it--exactly what I was wearing: a cream-colored wool skirt with a brown velvet jacket and a cream-colored satin blouse with ruffles in the front--but especially how nervous and excited I was, to finally be receiving what I had been longing for: the Holy Eucharist!
I stayed in that sacred spot for a few minutes, to say a prayer of thanksgiving to God for His incredible gift... and then I left, greeting one of the workmen, who did not question who I was or why I was there. I think he would have been very surprised, had he known how much meaning that humble little building has for me!
.
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Why Fast?
+JMJ+
On January 1, 2016, I began observing Fridays as a special day of fasting and prayer. By fasting, I mean what I think of as a "church fast," something like what you would do on Ash Wednesday or Good Friday: I start the day with a cup of black coffee, then just water for the rest of the day, and a light, meatless meal in the evening, no snacks or alchohol.
I was moved to do this after I wrote out an account of my path to conversion to Catholicism for my pastor at Our Lady of Perpetual Help, when I returned to the Church after a 20-year absence. Since he would be my confessor, I wanted him to understand where I had been in my life, and how God had acted to rescue me. When I saw the full story of how sinful I had been prior to becoming a Catholic, I was filled with regret and remorse, and wanted to somehow express to God how truly sorry I was for the years I spent unknowingly offending him, and how grateful I am to have found faith and the Church.
When I first thought of doing this, in my mind, it seemed like kind of an old-fashioned, even "medieval" thing to do. I did not know anyone who did this in the current era. However, when I investigated fasting on the internet out of curiosity about the custom, I discovered, to my amazement, that the contemporay Church still formally encourages Catholics to engage in such practices.
23. Friday should be in
each week something of what Lent is in the entire year. For this reason we urge
all to prepare for that weekly Easter that comes with each Sunday by freely
making of every Friday a day of self-denial and mortification in prayerful
remembrance of the passion of Jesus Christ.
Because I am striving to make it a special day dedicated to God, I begin the day with Mass at OLPH. Until my parents became more fragile, I was able to stay at the church after Mass as long as I wanted, to read and pray. Now, sadly, I have to rush home immediately afterward so that I can be the one to take food to the outdoor cats, since I don't want either of my parents walking down that grassy slope toward the gazebo (our cat feeding station), because I am afraid of them falling. This adds to the penance of the day, for sure, because I loved being able to stay after Mass. However, all is as God ordains, I fully believe. In any event, I try to minimize my time away from home that day so that I can spend extra time praying and doing spiritual reading.
I can't say it has had a dramatic effect on my life, but I am still doing it, and I find now that I actually look forward to it, even though there are parts of the day when I am really hungry and don't feel all that well. When those periods come, I try to remember why I am doing it, and offer my very slight discomfort to God as my offering to Him. Although I know that all my past sins have been completely forgiven through the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the Church teaches that...
Sin has two consequences, or punishments (CCC 1472). The first is eternal punishment, in which the soul loses heaven and is confined to an eternity in hell. This punishment is remitted through the forgiveness of sins. The second is temporal punishment, in which a person must expiate, or make reparation for his sins. This temporal punishment remains even after sin is forgiven. Some examples include Adam and Eve getting thrown out of Paradise when they ate the forbidden fruit (Genesis), and the Israelites losing the privilege of seeing the Promised Land because they worshiped the golden bull (Exodus). Unlike eternal punishment, temporal punishment remains only for the period of time it takes for the expiation of one's sins. Temporal punishment is God's method of loving discipline: "Do not disdain the discipline of the Lord . . . for whom the Lord loves, he disciplines; he scourges every son he receives" (Heb. 12:5).
How does one expiate his sins? The Catholic Church has traditionally identified three major ways–prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Any good work or sacrifice expiates sin, as well as patiently bearing our sufferings and offering them up in satisfaction for our sins (CCC 1459-1460). We may also take it upon ourselves to do voluntary penance. Some saints have done austere penances in satisfaction for their sins, such as sleeping on bare boards, dressing scantily in cold weather, self-flagellation, and wearing a hairshirt or a necklace made of jagged items to irritate the skin. Although efficacious, most Christians should strive to follow the penitential spirit of the saints while performing penances suitable to them.
http://www.catholic-forum.com/members/catholictracts/tract117.html
Although some people who are aware that I do this think it is excessive, or that I must be scrupulous, I don't accept that judgment, and I intend to continue this practice as long as I am physically able to do so. +
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