The first part of my faith story is here.
The second part is here.
I had done all the reading I could on the differences between Catholicism and Protestantism. It was time to actually talk to some Catholics and get answers to my questions. Because while I felt like I was getting a good grasp on some of these concepts, I didn’t think the average Catholic in the pew did. While there were a couple exceptions, many of the ones I had met were “cafeteria Catholics” who openly dissented from Church teachings.
While I wasn’t outright hostile in the RCIA class, I was quite skeptical. Clearly I was doing everyone in the class a favor by asking so many questions. Surely they just didn’t have a clear enough grasp of Christianity to see the problems with Catholicism. And certainly I in all my 26 years of experience was wiser than the Church of over 2000 years.
I would quiz Gregory after we got home from the class. “Did you know this?” “What did they mean by that?” “You can’t actually believe that wafer is actually Jesus.”
But the last straw was when the RCIA leader informed me that I would have to be “provisionally baptized” if I did decide to become Catholic. It was a new archdiocese policy, because they had found out some people had been baptized without the words “In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,” so it didn’t count.
I erupted. I had been baptized once and I was not about to be re-baptized. How hypocritical of them to recite each week that they “acknowledged one baptism for the forgiveness of sins” and then require any Christian wanting to join to be re-baptized just in case! I would absolutely not stand for this.
I simply would never become Catholic if they wouldn’t accept my first baptism.
My outlet for many of these complaints was my parents. I would tell them how ridiculous all these things were and how I could never become Catholic. Looking back, that wasn’t the best thing to do. But I’ve always been close to them and have never really been able to keep my mouth closed, especially on a topic that was so important to me.
Of course my new husband had to listen to my grievances, too. Other than that, though, our marriage was fantastic. We were so happy together. There was just one glitch in the first couple months. That whole “together” part was going to have to be paused – we realized we were going to have to do a long-distance marriage soon. I was going to have to return to grad school (remember how my dissertation plans had fallen through the week of our wedding?) for a semester in Texas, while my husband stayed in Pennsylvania and worked.
When I went back to Houston, I discovered a girl in my department was in RCIA and would be glad to drive me to mass on Sundays. Another friend from my Bible study was really interested in becoming Catholic and would love to drive me to the RCIA class on Wednesday nights. So I continued going, giving God only a cursory nod at the “coincidence” of these girls getting me to church.
I was still praying hard, though. It was already January and at this point I just couldn’t see myself joining the Church in April. While I could probably do it if it was only based on knowledge and facts, a decision like this was based on my heart and my gut. And the thought of belonging to a church that wouldn’t receive my family at communion just made me sick. I could not leave the faith of my family.
The thing is, once you learn the why behind the Church’s teachings, you don’t realize it but you’re a goner. No matter how bad the music and community and whatever else. If you set about educating yourself and come to it with an open mind and an open heart, you don’t have a chance. You will get a taste of truth and not be able to turn back.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I was realizing more and more how much of a divide there would be between my parents and myself. More than anything else, this is what kept me tossing and turning at night. I felt like I would be rejecting my family. I just couldn’t bear the thought of such division. But at the same time, I couldn’t handle the division between my husband and me. I craved unity.
I played the song “Whatever You’re Doing” dozens of times on repeat. I prayed with it. I cried with it.
Finally I decided it was time for me to stop focusing on myself so much. All I was doing was asking things of God instead of doing things for Him. So I decided to volunteer to help serve breakfast to the homeless once a week.
I showed up the first morning at 5:45 a.m. Another bearded man was also there for the first time. His name was Tim. It turned out Tim was training to be a priest. I finally laughed and relented, “Okay, God, I can take a hint.” On Wednesday nights I would go to RCIA and on Thursday mornings I would question Tim. “It’s time for Stump the Seminarian,” he joked as I would bring up the latest teachings I was struggling with.
I knew that if I was ever to become Catholic, I would have to follow all of the teachings. It had to be all or nothing – because if we didn’t believe in all of it, then what was the point? Why not just find some other denomination that didn’t have the rules we didn’t care for?
Of course this meant we had to deal with the biggie. We needed to address the issue of birth control.
The fourth and final part is here.
Also, I really can’t do justice to how painful it is to be separated from your family even though you all believe in Christ. Calah has a vivid post on it here.