Hello all,
I just wanted to mention that my pastor, Fr. Bill Trusz, has a regular Wednesday radio show on the Italian Catholic station Radio Teopoli, AM 530, out of Toronto. Fr. Bill, of course, broadcasts in English, so I didn't have to learn Italian to be a guest.
Anyway, if there are any listeners to that program who have come to the blog because of my visit to the program, I bid you a hearty welcome, and hope you enjoy the site!
For those of you who missed the program, you can download the mp3 here.
Take a listen; offer feedback! I'd love to hear from you!
God bless
Gregory
Friday, 23 April 2010
Saturday, 10 April 2010
Notes on a Scandal
My reaction to the Abuse Scandals
Seven or eight years ago, as I was on my journey to the Catholic Church, reports of sex abuse scandals by priests suddenly became all the rage in the media. I don't know whether it was the first major time that the media really went after these stories, or just the first time I was conscious of it. But the interesting thing about it, was, the stories never really shook my faith or deterred my inquiry into the Catholic faith.
Some might think that odd. Some might call me naive.
But I realised a few things. First, I am a sinner; yet I am a Christian. Thus, Christians (at least one of them, anyway) must be sinners. Is it any great surprise that, given that, we would find some sinners in positions of leadership?
Second, despite sinners being in the Church, the Church still abhorred and condemned sin. It never changed its stand to accommodate sinners, even when its members perpetrated those sins.
Third, insofar as my reception of the graces available through the sacraments is dependent upon the priest, I need the priest. But the priest himself is not the sum total, nor the focus, of my faith. Jesus is. And it was Jesus I wanted, not the priest.
Fourth, according to the Catholic teaching of ex opere operato, the priest needn't be of any high moral calibre (though that admittedly helps). Simply his actions performing the sacrament is what makes the sacrament efficacious--through the ministry of Jesus.
In sum, Jesus was the reason I was joining the Catholic Church, and not some misguided notion that its members were all perfect saints. The fact is, were they all perfect at the outset, there would have been no room for me.
An Apologetic Apology
Now, this is all well and good; however, the abuses are real, and must be addressed. I think I would be negligent if I didn't offer something about them.
First off, as far as I represent the Catholic Church (which isn't really that far, mind you), I am truly sorry to all the victims about what those men I, and you, considered "fathers", did to you. Such horrible crimes are unimaginable to me, and my heart breaks for you.
However, we must keep in mind a few things about the Church and its dealings. I in no way intend to justify the crimes committed, but I do want to put them into perspective, to elucidate the truth, and make sure that we aren't accusing the Church of more crimes than it actually did commit.
Causes and Preventative Measures
In the first place, yes, a few priests in past decades committed horrible crimes of molestation. In the decades immediately following the Second Vatican Council, the seminaries were rather lax and confused in their entrance policies, as well as their spiritual formation. Unfortunately, this led to men who had no place becoming priests being admitted to the seminary, and to poorly trained priests leaving the seminary. Since the 1980's, though, seminary rules and policies have been tightened up, and entrants even require a sexual-psychological examination before they are admitted. This has, it seems, led to a significant drop in contemporary abuse cases. In fact, there are, as far as I know, no contemporary cases of abuse being reported. The ones that are, or have been, reported on in the media, are decades old.
Moreover, parishes are more proactive about accountability practices and encouraging the reporting of abuse. Pope Benedict himself, contrary to the New York Times' shoddy reporting, has worked tirelessly and decisively in the last 10 years to weed out the problem and make reparation.
It's Not Just the Catholic Church
Another point that I would like to make is the relatively low number of abusive priests, compared to other sectors of society. Considering that there are over one billion Catholics, it would be naive to expect that there wouldn't be some perverted persons in our ranks. Yet, according to studies, less than 5% of priests were accused of these crimes. Less than 3% were convicted. That's obviously five percent too many, but when we consider organisations like the Boy Scouts, school teachers, or other ministers of various denominations and religions (see here, too), 5% seems relatively low. In fact, according to a report on the Catholic sexual abuse scandal by the Russian newspaper, Pravda, the ratio of sexual abuse of minors in the public schools of America to the sexual abuse perpetrated by Catholic clergy, is 157 to 1! Think about that the next time you want to say that all priests are paedophiles. What then do you say of our teachers?
Now, neither I nor the Vatican, when it reminds the world that sexual abuse is just as, if not more rampant in other religions, am minimising the damage done by abusive priests. However, I do want to put it into perspective of the Church as a whole, and the rest of the world.
Pope Benedict's Culpability?
The New York Times reported that when Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI) was prefect for the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, he personally knew of and encouraged the covering-up of the sex abuse of various priests. This was the first bit of news that really affected me in terms of the sex abuse scandals. It's one thing to acknowledge that priests can be as evil as the rest of us. It's another thing to think that the person entrusted with the whole Church was once complicit in these crimes. In retrospect, I wonder whether that reaction was any more logical than thinking all priests are evil because of this scandal; nevertheless, I was troubled.
So I did some digging, and, shock and awe, the Times doesn't actually know what it's talking about! I'd detail the facts, but Catholic Apologist Jimmy Akin has done so, and more thoroughly and clearly than I would be able. As such, I'll simply direct you to his articles:
Cardinal Ratzinger: An Evil Monster?
Evil Monster Update: The Inside Story
I hope Mr. Akin helps to set the record straight in your minds. The second article actually quotes Fr. Thomas Brundage, who was the Judiciary Vicar, or, basically, the judge, in the case of Fr. Lawrence Murphy, about whom the Times was reporting. Fr. Brundage's own comments can be found here.
Our Response
So what do we do now? How do we move forward? First of all, we must keep the faith. We must understand that the Catholic Church is more than its failures. It's more than sinful you and sinful me, and more than sinful priests and cowardly bishops. The Church is the indefectable bastion of truth that it always was, since its founding by Jesus Christ (Matt 16:18; 1 Tim 3:15).
Second, we must pray. Pray for our priests, our bishops, and our Pope. Pope Benedict, upon his election, said, "Pray for me, lest I flee for fear of the wolves." The wolves are out, and salivating. Let us bear in mind his prophetic injunction and bear him up in our prayers. But pray most of all for the victims, that they might find healing, peace, and reconciliation with the Church, and, if necessary, with Jesus Himself.
Third, we must learn the facts. The mainstream media has a hate-on for the Catholic Church, and seems none to concerned about letting the facts stand in the way of a good story. But there are places where we can learn the truth. And we must be diligent in our searching for it.
Finally, I'll leave you with one more link, to Canadian singer and evangelist, Mark Mallett's blog, and his own comments on The Scandal.
God bless.
Seven or eight years ago, as I was on my journey to the Catholic Church, reports of sex abuse scandals by priests suddenly became all the rage in the media. I don't know whether it was the first major time that the media really went after these stories, or just the first time I was conscious of it. But the interesting thing about it, was, the stories never really shook my faith or deterred my inquiry into the Catholic faith.
Some might think that odd. Some might call me naive.
But I realised a few things. First, I am a sinner; yet I am a Christian. Thus, Christians (at least one of them, anyway) must be sinners. Is it any great surprise that, given that, we would find some sinners in positions of leadership?
Second, despite sinners being in the Church, the Church still abhorred and condemned sin. It never changed its stand to accommodate sinners, even when its members perpetrated those sins.
Third, insofar as my reception of the graces available through the sacraments is dependent upon the priest, I need the priest. But the priest himself is not the sum total, nor the focus, of my faith. Jesus is. And it was Jesus I wanted, not the priest.
Fourth, according to the Catholic teaching of ex opere operato, the priest needn't be of any high moral calibre (though that admittedly helps). Simply his actions performing the sacrament is what makes the sacrament efficacious--through the ministry of Jesus.
In sum, Jesus was the reason I was joining the Catholic Church, and not some misguided notion that its members were all perfect saints. The fact is, were they all perfect at the outset, there would have been no room for me.
An Apologetic Apology
Now, this is all well and good; however, the abuses are real, and must be addressed. I think I would be negligent if I didn't offer something about them.
First off, as far as I represent the Catholic Church (which isn't really that far, mind you), I am truly sorry to all the victims about what those men I, and you, considered "fathers", did to you. Such horrible crimes are unimaginable to me, and my heart breaks for you.
However, we must keep in mind a few things about the Church and its dealings. I in no way intend to justify the crimes committed, but I do want to put them into perspective, to elucidate the truth, and make sure that we aren't accusing the Church of more crimes than it actually did commit.
Causes and Preventative Measures
In the first place, yes, a few priests in past decades committed horrible crimes of molestation. In the decades immediately following the Second Vatican Council, the seminaries were rather lax and confused in their entrance policies, as well as their spiritual formation. Unfortunately, this led to men who had no place becoming priests being admitted to the seminary, and to poorly trained priests leaving the seminary. Since the 1980's, though, seminary rules and policies have been tightened up, and entrants even require a sexual-psychological examination before they are admitted. This has, it seems, led to a significant drop in contemporary abuse cases. In fact, there are, as far as I know, no contemporary cases of abuse being reported. The ones that are, or have been, reported on in the media, are decades old.
Moreover, parishes are more proactive about accountability practices and encouraging the reporting of abuse. Pope Benedict himself, contrary to the New York Times' shoddy reporting, has worked tirelessly and decisively in the last 10 years to weed out the problem and make reparation.
It's Not Just the Catholic Church
Another point that I would like to make is the relatively low number of abusive priests, compared to other sectors of society. Considering that there are over one billion Catholics, it would be naive to expect that there wouldn't be some perverted persons in our ranks. Yet, according to studies, less than 5% of priests were accused of these crimes. Less than 3% were convicted. That's obviously five percent too many, but when we consider organisations like the Boy Scouts, school teachers, or other ministers of various denominations and religions (see here, too), 5% seems relatively low. In fact, according to a report on the Catholic sexual abuse scandal by the Russian newspaper, Pravda, the ratio of sexual abuse of minors in the public schools of America to the sexual abuse perpetrated by Catholic clergy, is 157 to 1! Think about that the next time you want to say that all priests are paedophiles. What then do you say of our teachers?
Now, neither I nor the Vatican, when it reminds the world that sexual abuse is just as, if not more rampant in other religions, am minimising the damage done by abusive priests. However, I do want to put it into perspective of the Church as a whole, and the rest of the world.
Pope Benedict's Culpability?
The New York Times reported that when Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI) was prefect for the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, he personally knew of and encouraged the covering-up of the sex abuse of various priests. This was the first bit of news that really affected me in terms of the sex abuse scandals. It's one thing to acknowledge that priests can be as evil as the rest of us. It's another thing to think that the person entrusted with the whole Church was once complicit in these crimes. In retrospect, I wonder whether that reaction was any more logical than thinking all priests are evil because of this scandal; nevertheless, I was troubled.
So I did some digging, and, shock and awe, the Times doesn't actually know what it's talking about! I'd detail the facts, but Catholic Apologist Jimmy Akin has done so, and more thoroughly and clearly than I would be able. As such, I'll simply direct you to his articles:
Cardinal Ratzinger: An Evil Monster?
Evil Monster Update: The Inside Story
I hope Mr. Akin helps to set the record straight in your minds. The second article actually quotes Fr. Thomas Brundage, who was the Judiciary Vicar, or, basically, the judge, in the case of Fr. Lawrence Murphy, about whom the Times was reporting. Fr. Brundage's own comments can be found here.
Our Response
So what do we do now? How do we move forward? First of all, we must keep the faith. We must understand that the Catholic Church is more than its failures. It's more than sinful you and sinful me, and more than sinful priests and cowardly bishops. The Church is the indefectable bastion of truth that it always was, since its founding by Jesus Christ (Matt 16:18; 1 Tim 3:15).
Second, we must pray. Pray for our priests, our bishops, and our Pope. Pope Benedict, upon his election, said, "Pray for me, lest I flee for fear of the wolves." The wolves are out, and salivating. Let us bear in mind his prophetic injunction and bear him up in our prayers. But pray most of all for the victims, that they might find healing, peace, and reconciliation with the Church, and, if necessary, with Jesus Himself.
Third, we must learn the facts. The mainstream media has a hate-on for the Catholic Church, and seems none to concerned about letting the facts stand in the way of a good story. But there are places where we can learn the truth. And we must be diligent in our searching for it.
Finally, I'll leave you with one more link, to Canadian singer and evangelist, Mark Mallett's blog, and his own comments on The Scandal.
God bless.
Monday, 5 April 2010
Q & A Forum #2
Happy Easter! Christ is Risen! Alleluia!
Thought I'd toss up a second Q&A, since we haven't had one for a while, and the first one dropped off the front page.
In the last Q&A, there was a lingering unanswered question regarding St. Thomas Aquinas' views on Allah, the God worshipped by the Muslims. I've figured out the best answer that I think I'm going to come to, and have published it in both Open Forums (Fora?).
Anyway, feel free to comment away.
In other news, my parents gave me a refurbished laptop a month early for my birthday, so I hope that will help me get more blogging done. We'll see how that goes :)
God bless, and have a Holy Paschal Season!
Gregory
Thought I'd toss up a second Q&A, since we haven't had one for a while, and the first one dropped off the front page.
In the last Q&A, there was a lingering unanswered question regarding St. Thomas Aquinas' views on Allah, the God worshipped by the Muslims. I've figured out the best answer that I think I'm going to come to, and have published it in both Open Forums (Fora?).
Anyway, feel free to comment away.
In other news, my parents gave me a refurbished laptop a month early for my birthday, so I hope that will help me get more blogging done. We'll see how that goes :)
God bless, and have a Holy Paschal Season!
Gregory
Sunday, 4 April 2010
Latin is my Spiritual Tongue
I thought, as Easter was approaching, that on this, the 6th anniversary of my conversion to Catholicism, that I would write out a fairly brief account of it. It is purposefully rather colloquial, and I would be surprised to find any grand arguments in defence of Catholicism. The intent is more for personal reflection and self-disclosure. I hope my Catholic readers will be encouraged, and my Protestant and other non-Catholic readers will have a greater understanding of who I am and what the Church means to me. I sincerely hope not to offend, but I am neither so naive as to suppose that an account detailing why I rejected a particular belief system won't evoke some reaction from those who still adhere to that system. I hope you can take this in the spirit in which I mean it. I would, of course, be disingenuous if I didn't admit that I hope that some readers might be induced to at least a growing curiosity about the Catholic Church, and that some might even be persuaded to join it themselves. That would be my prayer for all people.
By all means, feel free to comment.
I came out of a faith tradition that taught that the Holy Spirit gives us each a "spiritual tongue", a private prayer language that we didn't know beforehand, for our personal edification and public prophetic utterance, when accompanied by an "interpretation." I believe in this "spiritual tongue" even though the particular beliefs about it are what eventually led me out of that Pentecostal tradition. Ultimately I would find my home in the Latin Rite of the Catholic Church. In a different way than was meant by the Pentecostals, Latin is, indeed, my Spiritual Tongue--and while I had never before learned it, the Holy Spirit did reveal it to me. This is the story of that revelation.
Looking back I can clearly see God's hand in my life, even before I was born. 16 years before I was born, my parents got married, and wanted kids. They prayed about having kids. They even felt that God gave them the name of a son, Gregory. But for 15 years they had no children. They tried to adopt, but the line-ups are very long! Finally, after waiting 15 years to adopt, I came along, and I was given to them!
I was the child of an affair, a married man and an unmarried girl. By most standards today, I'd be considered an "unwanted child", and in 1980, abortion had been decriminalised for 11 years! Thank God my biological mother didn't choose the "easy" way out! Instead of aborting me, she gave me up for adoption, and I was named Gregory by my parents, Betty and Wayne Watson. Their example, waiting a decade and a half for a child, the length of the lineups at adoption agencies, tells me, and should tell everyone, that contrary to popular propaganda, there is no such thing as an "unwanted baby"!
My mother and father raised me in a devout Pentecostal family, bringing me with them to church every week and making sure I learned the faith right from the start. I "got saved" when I was five, when I put my hand up during an altar call. I was baptised in the Holy Spirit and spoke in tongues when I was 14. I felt called to ministry of some sort when I was 15, when God used my name, picked out for me some 15 years before I was born, and related its meaning to the prophetic call of Ezekiel in Ezekiel 3:17. This would lead me to Bible College after high school. At 16 I was baptised in water, but I would have been a lot sooner if someone had ever told me it was necessary!
All this time, I was a staunch, Bible-believing, bordering-on-fundamentalist, preachin'-to-my-friends Pentecostal. Was big into concepts like "evangelism", "apologetics", and "absolute truth". Still am, really. I just think I have a better grasp on what those things mean, now.
It seems to me, looking back, that it's a pretty small faith that you can have more or less completely figured out by the time you're 16. Or maybe it was an indication of my teenage "I know everything" stage.
Anyway, I started dating a girl when I was 18, that wasn't a Pentecostal. She was 4C's, Congregational Christian Church of Canada. It's a conservative movement that sprung out of the United Church of Canada when the latter went crazy liberal. Anyway, not being of the tongues-speaking variety, she brought with her a lot of challenges to my faith, and made me really recognise that, hey, there's a whole world of Christianity out there beyond the Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada. I mean, I knew about the Baptists and the Mennonites and the Anglicans and the Lutherans, but never really looked, y'know?
So it was this girl who first gets me wondering about this whole "necessity of speaking in tongues" thing. Obviously, I'm not going to deny speaking in tongues, since I've experienced it. But does it have to happen to everyone? I came to the conclusion that no, the Bible seems to say the opposite. On top of that, I had a few experiences that stuck with me that indicated that the logical conclusions of such a doctrine can be anything but healthy. That is, I knew godly people who were viewed as "less" simply because they weren't "filled with the Holy Spirit." How was that judged? By the fact that they had never uttered anything in another language. I remember one girl, who is now a missionary, and who even then was one of the brightest examples of the Christian faith that I know, who was reduced to tears as friends of hers jumped up and down, literally screaming in tongues at her, so she would receive this experience! It seemed to me then, as it seems to me now, that this could only be considered "spiritually abusive." As I said, she's now a missionary, and one of the most Spirit-filled people I know. And as far as I know, she's never spoken in tongues!
So here I am, with a new dilemma. I believe that there's an absolute truth, and it's important to know and believe in it. I feel like I'm called to be a minister and proclaim this absolute truth. And I suddenly find that the denomination which, ironically, taught me that there is such a truth, doesn't actually possess it in its entirety. What's a fellow to do?
I guess there were two options: Figure, hey, I've got the truth, I can just start my own denomination! Or, figure, hey, one of these myriads of denominations that already exists has to have figured out what I know already. I'll just find it and join it.
I picked option B, because my mom stressed from the time I was young that accountability in leadership is important--that it's the pastors who go out on their own as if they've got it all figured out that end up cult leaders. So obviously, not wanting to be a cult leader, I went with my girlfriend (same girl as above) to a very multi-denominational Bible College. To put it in perspective, there were about 350 students, all told, and the year I started there were over 40 different denominations represented. I figured that was a good place to start.
So I start digging in and learning a whole bunch. Most of which I already knew at least the basics of, because, remember, I had this Christianity thing all figured out beforehand ;) Well, I want to go deeper, because there's something attractive about the Mystery behind it all. And I wanted to explore that. So I decided to write a paper in theology class on the Trinity and Jesus as both God and Man. So among my sources, I figure, hey, who best to turn to than the people who really figured all this out in the way-back-when? So I head to the library, to the row with the dustiest books on it (because pop-Christianity had infected the majority of the library and the students), and I find "The Early Church Fathers". I pull out St. Augustine's "On the Trinity" and St. Hilary of Poitiers' "The Trinity" (I hadn't even heard of St. Hilary before this!) and I'm reading and devouring whole new worlds of thought on all this--and it's gold! Except for one thing. These theological giants sounded awfully Catholic!
Well, I figure, that's odd, but whatever, Augie's got a lot of good stuff to say. So he's a little bit mistaken on this other stuff. Can't win them all. Which of course prompts a pesky thought in my head: "Who am I to think that I know better than St. Augustine what the Truth is?" Now that's an awkward thought! I realised that I was asking the Big Question precisely backwards. I had come to Bible College to find the Church that agreed with me, so I could join it. But the Church of the Bible didn't work like that. It demanded submission to its teachings. You didn't disagree with Peter's Church and walk down the road to join Paul's!
So I continued in my studies. I took a history course (which was amazing, since Pentecostals? Not too big in the Christian history department. I knew the Book of Acts, a smattering about the Reformation, and was pretty clear on Azuza Street and afterwards--but for all I knew of history, the aforementioned St. Augustine and the "reformer" Martin Luther could've been neighbours!). I had the ironically fortunate experience of learning Christian history from one of the most anti-Catholic professors one could ever hope to meet. And of course, out of 2000 years of history, roughly 1500 of it is pure Catholicism! So I'm learning about this ancient institution from a guy who obviously hates it, and he keeps saying stuff like, "And then in X year, the Church started teaching and practicing Y doctrine! How could anyone believe such a thing as that?" And I'm sitting and thinking, "Y'know, I could probably construct a really good argument for that teaching from the Bible, in the next 10 minutes, without even really trying! Further, you're so biased that I can't really trust that you've even represented that doctrine properly." So there I am, thinking for myself again. Apparently that's a bad habit!
Around this time, I finally come to my senses about the aforementioned girl, and the reality that our relationship for three and a half years had been an abusive one with her unhealthily controlling and manipulating me, so that came to an end. I'll leave it at that, since it's sort of incidental to the story I'm telling. Anyway, as I'm beginning to ponder this crazy Catholic Church (which is seeming more and more credible, yet isn't it that dead ritual that the Pentecostals always said it was?), and reading things in my Bible that, even though I'd read it cover to cover, I'd never noticed before (like, "My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink" and "Baptism now saves you"), and thinking, "But that sounds really Catholic! What's going on here?!"... anyway, as I was saying, as this was going on, I meet my wife at a surprise birthday party that she threw for an old high school friend of mine, that my wife happened to go to university with. Well, we talk up the God stuff (as is my wont) at the pool hall where the party is, and I find out she is a Catholic herself! And more, she actually talks to God and has a relationship with Him! Go figure!
So we started dating a month later, and I would attend Mass with her Sunday mornings (since her parents wouldn't let her miss it--good for them!) and she came with me Sunday evenings to the Pentecostal church. We agreed that the other was a Christian, and therefore wouldn't be trying to convert each other (yeah, right), but I figured, once she comes and experiences the "real deal" at the Pentecostal church, she'll never want to go back! Well, she never did want to go back--to the Pentecostal church! That "charismaniac" stuff scared the dickens out of her! (Especially when, after months of encouragement, I finally convinced her to go up to an altar call, and some lady was "slain in the spirit" and landed on her foot!) Ironically, you'll notice, the closer I got to Catholicism, the further I retreated into my Pentecostalism--them Catholics weren't gonna take me alive!
Meanwhile, back at Bible College, I'm taking my actual course load, which involved two rather influential courses in my conversion. The first was "Introduction to Worship and Music", which I wouldn't have taken (not being very musical) except that it was mandatory. It happened to be taught by a former Catholic--who happened to still appreciate the Catholic Church! Wonderful Irish-Canadian fellow: Sean O'Leary (who, incidentally, taught me the word "charismaniac"). Anyway, he taught us about all the different forms and styles of church worship, including that unfathomable mystery called the Liturgy! Well, this was helpful because I was able to see that liturgy wasn't "dead ritual" after all, and, now that I was dating a Catholic, and attending Mass with her, it actually made sense to me!
The second course was one called "Spiritual Formation and Disciple-making". The prof was a rather charismatic individual himself, and taught us about various ancient and modern spiritual practices and traditions all across the Christian spectrum, like the Jesus Prayer, Lectio Divina, Quiakerism, the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, fasting, charismatic worship, and others. In the process, we talked about great saints and mystics--many of whom were Catholic! And what's more, many of those Catholics described an intimacy with Jesus that went beyond anything that I as a Pentecostal had ever experienced! How was that possible in a religion that consisted of dead ritual?!
Well, obviously what I'd learned about Catholicism growing up (and in History class) was somewhat inaccurate, so in the grand tradition of thinking for myself, I neglected the vast majority of my studies in order to pursue "the Catholic question". I'd read everything I could find in the library at school, on the internet, or anywhere else. Some people, expressing curiosity and concern, even lent me books on the subject--some rather anti-Catholic, and some pro-Catholic, just so I could properly inform myself. I'd spend all night reading (I worked as a security guard at the time), and even racked up $300 dollar cell phone bills reading Catholic Answers on my cell phone back in the days before internet cell phone plans!
I'd take the best Protestant arguments against Catholicism and go to Melissa and her priest with them, as well as to these Catholic sites. I'd take their arguments back with me to Bible College, to my fellow students and my professors. I'd pray, read the Scriptures, and just keep going back and forth.
Mary, the Eucharist, and Purgatory were my biggest hang-ups. I got the Pope and Infallibility--after all, I was looking for the Church that claimed to know the Truth. I just had to make sure as best as I could that they actually did have the truth. Purgatory proved to be a rather easy conclusion, and I quickly realised in the back-and-forth presentation of arguments described above, that the Protestant position basically boiled down to a sort of repackaged Gnosticism, where our good spirits are trapped in our evil bodies, and that, even if we're still not entirely perfect in life, at death our perfect souls leave our bodies and go to heaven! That's really the only alternative explanation anyone could come up with to fit the facts and exclude Purgatory--and that explanation is a heresy! As Sherlock Holmes was apt to say, "Once you exclude the impossible, whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth."
The Bible itself sold me on the Eucharist, as I was unable to escape the exceedingly literal emphasis of John 6, "For My flesh is true food, and My Blood is true drink" (v.55), and St. Paul's definite identification of the Eucharist as a sacrifice in 1 Corinthians 10 and 11. I went from questioning whether Jesus was truly Present, to eagerly longing to be able to receive Him. And yet I still held off until I was as sure as I could be--despite enduring what my priest called "Eucharistic Hunger" for nearly four years!
Mary, though, was not so easy. The Catholic arguments all made sense in my head, but, as they say, the longest distance to travel is the 18 inches from your head to your heart. I just couldn't get past the inundation since a child that Marian devotion was idolatrous. Even though my head knew it wasn't, in my heart, it still felt like sin. At that final interview in the RCIA process, I discussed this with my priest, and asked whether I could still become a Catholic, even if it felt sinful to pray to Mary? He said as long as I didn't tell others that it was a sin to venerate her, that I could! But, he said, I had to continue to pray and seek Jesus' opinion about His Mother and devotion to her. That, I could readily agree to, and so, finally, a journey to the Catholic Church that began in the beginning of 2000, ended in the spring of 2004 at the Easter Vigil.
I went a bit Pentecostal at my first Communion! I was almost worried that the hype I'd created in my head over the last four years of receiving Jesus literally present in the Eucharist would come to an anti-climax when all I got was a piece of bread and a sip of wine--but Jesus never lets you down! I walked back to my pew in ecstasy, and couldn't stop speaking in tongues! I tried to be really quiet about it so as not to freak out my newly-confirmed confrères, but that's no easy task for this former-Pentecostal boy!
Anyway, as I said, Mary was still a problem for me--but Jesus took care of that in no time, once I made that step of obedience to join the Church. There were two key ways this happened. First, shopping in a Protestant Christian bookstore, I happened upon Scott Hahn's "Hail Holy Queen". After hesitating for a while (never having heard of Scott Hahn before), I bought it and wow! Did he ever open up Scripture to me in a whole new way! Now, I'm an emotional person, but I get emotional about the dumbest stuff--namely, theological concepts and such. So I'm reading about how Mary fits the typological fulfilment of the Ark of the Covenant blah blah blah, and I've got tears running down my cheeks! The Mary train had departed the head; destination: Heart!
At the same time, I started praying the Rosary. Oddly, despite my reservations about Mary, the Rosary itself always held some major appeal. Maybe it was just its status as one of those quintessential emblems of all things Catholic, but I took up praying it despite the Hail Marys. I understood that they were the "behind the scenes" portion, and that the Mysteries were central, so I managed to get around them. And what better way to ask Jesus His opinion on His mother than by meditating on her Assumption and Coronation?
Just a couple years before my conversion, Pope John Paul II added the Luminous Mysteries, including the second one, the Wedding at Cana. The little booklets the RCIA team gave us on the Rosary included all the new mysteries, as well as suggested intentions for each one. I remember praying for those intentions faithfully, in words like, "Dear Jesus, as I meditate on Your Agony in the Garden, I ask for true sorrow for my sins," or "Jesus, as I meditate on Your Resurrection, I ask for greater faith." Well, the suggested intention for the Wedding Feast at Cana was "that we would have greater trust in Mary's maternal intercession for us." So one day, I'm praying, "Jesus, as I meditate upon the Wedding Feast at Cana, help me to trust more in Your Mother's maternal intercession for me." And I stop, and think, now that's just odd. I'm praying to Jesus to ask Him to help me trust more in Mary's prayers for me. That's like saying, "Jesus, Your Mom's gonna come talk to You about me in a second. Could You listen to her, please?" Seems sort of out of order. So I pray, "Jesus, I hope this is okay. Mary, please help me trust more in your maternal intercession for me."
Wham! Everything changed in that second! Mary wasn't just a theological concept anymore--she was a real person! I could talk about having a relationship with her in the same way I could about a relationship with Jesus! The pieces fell into place, and I grew to not only "get" Mary, but to love her as well! And I still do! I even joined the Confraternity of the Holy Rosary this past year!
So, that was all well and good. I graduated from Bible College the same April that I was confirmed, at the opposite end of the month. I still wonder if I'm the first, or the only, Catholic grad from EBC! Of course, I had been there for 5 years, but due to my messy break-up, and my searching out Catholicism, I managed to achieve a 2 year Diploma of Biblical studies :p
And, since I got married (it seemed wrong somehow to say to my sponsor/girlfriend, "Well, thanks for getting me into the Church, now I'm off to seminary!" and since God never told me that's what I should do, I let the relationship take its natural course), I realised the full impact of the sacrifices entailed in my conversion. That is, I sacrificed my whole career goals! What's a guy who's only ever educated himself to be a pastor do when he can't do that?! So far, a lot of general labour, with a brief, wonderful, two-year stint as a youth minister at a Catholic parish. Not a whole lot of those full-time youth min jobs floating around. But I keep looking. I know God's got something good coming.
It's interesting, though, as I continue to ponder my calling, I've wondered a lot at what God meant when He called me to the ministry when I was 15. For a good while, I wrestled with whether or not I screwed things up. When I was 15, one of the two passages that God used to point me in that direction was the story of Jesus sending out the 72 disciples, two by two, to preach--without money or provisions. When I was 15, I wanted to do that. Rather literally. I was ready to hoof it across Canada! My parents and other sensible people in my life dissuaded me, convincing me that there was a more common-sense interpretation of what God was calling me to. (Ironically, looking back, it was my Catholic guidance counsellor in High School, who, when I told him about my "career goal", said, "Good for you! We need more people like that!") Now as much as my parents were right, I wonder, had I been a Catholic, whether someone would have told me then what I've found out now: namely, that there were Catholics who did take that text seriously, and who did just that! Saints like Francis of Assisi and Dominic Guzman founded Religious Orders whose mission was just that! All other things being equal, had I grown up Catholic, would I be a Dominican now? Turns out, that seems to be the direction God is calling me anyway! Who knew that there was an Order in the Church whose primary charism is a life of preaching? Who knew that this Order has a Lay branch for people like me to participate in that Charism? When I converted, I had no idea. But God did. As I said at the beginning, as I look back, I can clearly see His hand in my life.
True, things haven't always been easy these past six years. Yet despite the hardships and seeming setbacks, I wouldn't trade my Catholic faith, and the opportunity to know and experience Jesus, tangibly, physically, literally in the Eucharist, for the world!
By all means, feel free to comment.
I came out of a faith tradition that taught that the Holy Spirit gives us each a "spiritual tongue", a private prayer language that we didn't know beforehand, for our personal edification and public prophetic utterance, when accompanied by an "interpretation." I believe in this "spiritual tongue" even though the particular beliefs about it are what eventually led me out of that Pentecostal tradition. Ultimately I would find my home in the Latin Rite of the Catholic Church. In a different way than was meant by the Pentecostals, Latin is, indeed, my Spiritual Tongue--and while I had never before learned it, the Holy Spirit did reveal it to me. This is the story of that revelation.
Looking back I can clearly see God's hand in my life, even before I was born. 16 years before I was born, my parents got married, and wanted kids. They prayed about having kids. They even felt that God gave them the name of a son, Gregory. But for 15 years they had no children. They tried to adopt, but the line-ups are very long! Finally, after waiting 15 years to adopt, I came along, and I was given to them!
I was the child of an affair, a married man and an unmarried girl. By most standards today, I'd be considered an "unwanted child", and in 1980, abortion had been decriminalised for 11 years! Thank God my biological mother didn't choose the "easy" way out! Instead of aborting me, she gave me up for adoption, and I was named Gregory by my parents, Betty and Wayne Watson. Their example, waiting a decade and a half for a child, the length of the lineups at adoption agencies, tells me, and should tell everyone, that contrary to popular propaganda, there is no such thing as an "unwanted baby"!
My mother and father raised me in a devout Pentecostal family, bringing me with them to church every week and making sure I learned the faith right from the start. I "got saved" when I was five, when I put my hand up during an altar call. I was baptised in the Holy Spirit and spoke in tongues when I was 14. I felt called to ministry of some sort when I was 15, when God used my name, picked out for me some 15 years before I was born, and related its meaning to the prophetic call of Ezekiel in Ezekiel 3:17. This would lead me to Bible College after high school. At 16 I was baptised in water, but I would have been a lot sooner if someone had ever told me it was necessary!
All this time, I was a staunch, Bible-believing, bordering-on-fundamentalist, preachin'-to-my-friends Pentecostal. Was big into concepts like "evangelism", "apologetics", and "absolute truth". Still am, really. I just think I have a better grasp on what those things mean, now.
It seems to me, looking back, that it's a pretty small faith that you can have more or less completely figured out by the time you're 16. Or maybe it was an indication of my teenage "I know everything" stage.
Anyway, I started dating a girl when I was 18, that wasn't a Pentecostal. She was 4C's, Congregational Christian Church of Canada. It's a conservative movement that sprung out of the United Church of Canada when the latter went crazy liberal. Anyway, not being of the tongues-speaking variety, she brought with her a lot of challenges to my faith, and made me really recognise that, hey, there's a whole world of Christianity out there beyond the Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada. I mean, I knew about the Baptists and the Mennonites and the Anglicans and the Lutherans, but never really looked, y'know?
So it was this girl who first gets me wondering about this whole "necessity of speaking in tongues" thing. Obviously, I'm not going to deny speaking in tongues, since I've experienced it. But does it have to happen to everyone? I came to the conclusion that no, the Bible seems to say the opposite. On top of that, I had a few experiences that stuck with me that indicated that the logical conclusions of such a doctrine can be anything but healthy. That is, I knew godly people who were viewed as "less" simply because they weren't "filled with the Holy Spirit." How was that judged? By the fact that they had never uttered anything in another language. I remember one girl, who is now a missionary, and who even then was one of the brightest examples of the Christian faith that I know, who was reduced to tears as friends of hers jumped up and down, literally screaming in tongues at her, so she would receive this experience! It seemed to me then, as it seems to me now, that this could only be considered "spiritually abusive." As I said, she's now a missionary, and one of the most Spirit-filled people I know. And as far as I know, she's never spoken in tongues!
So here I am, with a new dilemma. I believe that there's an absolute truth, and it's important to know and believe in it. I feel like I'm called to be a minister and proclaim this absolute truth. And I suddenly find that the denomination which, ironically, taught me that there is such a truth, doesn't actually possess it in its entirety. What's a fellow to do?
I guess there were two options: Figure, hey, I've got the truth, I can just start my own denomination! Or, figure, hey, one of these myriads of denominations that already exists has to have figured out what I know already. I'll just find it and join it.
I picked option B, because my mom stressed from the time I was young that accountability in leadership is important--that it's the pastors who go out on their own as if they've got it all figured out that end up cult leaders. So obviously, not wanting to be a cult leader, I went with my girlfriend (same girl as above) to a very multi-denominational Bible College. To put it in perspective, there were about 350 students, all told, and the year I started there were over 40 different denominations represented. I figured that was a good place to start.
So I start digging in and learning a whole bunch. Most of which I already knew at least the basics of, because, remember, I had this Christianity thing all figured out beforehand ;) Well, I want to go deeper, because there's something attractive about the Mystery behind it all. And I wanted to explore that. So I decided to write a paper in theology class on the Trinity and Jesus as both God and Man. So among my sources, I figure, hey, who best to turn to than the people who really figured all this out in the way-back-when? So I head to the library, to the row with the dustiest books on it (because pop-Christianity had infected the majority of the library and the students), and I find "The Early Church Fathers". I pull out St. Augustine's "On the Trinity" and St. Hilary of Poitiers' "The Trinity" (I hadn't even heard of St. Hilary before this!) and I'm reading and devouring whole new worlds of thought on all this--and it's gold! Except for one thing. These theological giants sounded awfully Catholic!
Well, I figure, that's odd, but whatever, Augie's got a lot of good stuff to say. So he's a little bit mistaken on this other stuff. Can't win them all. Which of course prompts a pesky thought in my head: "Who am I to think that I know better than St. Augustine what the Truth is?" Now that's an awkward thought! I realised that I was asking the Big Question precisely backwards. I had come to Bible College to find the Church that agreed with me, so I could join it. But the Church of the Bible didn't work like that. It demanded submission to its teachings. You didn't disagree with Peter's Church and walk down the road to join Paul's!
So I continued in my studies. I took a history course (which was amazing, since Pentecostals? Not too big in the Christian history department. I knew the Book of Acts, a smattering about the Reformation, and was pretty clear on Azuza Street and afterwards--but for all I knew of history, the aforementioned St. Augustine and the "reformer" Martin Luther could've been neighbours!). I had the ironically fortunate experience of learning Christian history from one of the most anti-Catholic professors one could ever hope to meet. And of course, out of 2000 years of history, roughly 1500 of it is pure Catholicism! So I'm learning about this ancient institution from a guy who obviously hates it, and he keeps saying stuff like, "And then in X year, the Church started teaching and practicing Y doctrine! How could anyone believe such a thing as that?" And I'm sitting and thinking, "Y'know, I could probably construct a really good argument for that teaching from the Bible, in the next 10 minutes, without even really trying! Further, you're so biased that I can't really trust that you've even represented that doctrine properly." So there I am, thinking for myself again. Apparently that's a bad habit!
Around this time, I finally come to my senses about the aforementioned girl, and the reality that our relationship for three and a half years had been an abusive one with her unhealthily controlling and manipulating me, so that came to an end. I'll leave it at that, since it's sort of incidental to the story I'm telling. Anyway, as I'm beginning to ponder this crazy Catholic Church (which is seeming more and more credible, yet isn't it that dead ritual that the Pentecostals always said it was?), and reading things in my Bible that, even though I'd read it cover to cover, I'd never noticed before (like, "My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink" and "Baptism now saves you"), and thinking, "But that sounds really Catholic! What's going on here?!"... anyway, as I was saying, as this was going on, I meet my wife at a surprise birthday party that she threw for an old high school friend of mine, that my wife happened to go to university with. Well, we talk up the God stuff (as is my wont) at the pool hall where the party is, and I find out she is a Catholic herself! And more, she actually talks to God and has a relationship with Him! Go figure!
So we started dating a month later, and I would attend Mass with her Sunday mornings (since her parents wouldn't let her miss it--good for them!) and she came with me Sunday evenings to the Pentecostal church. We agreed that the other was a Christian, and therefore wouldn't be trying to convert each other (yeah, right), but I figured, once she comes and experiences the "real deal" at the Pentecostal church, she'll never want to go back! Well, she never did want to go back--to the Pentecostal church! That "charismaniac" stuff scared the dickens out of her! (Especially when, after months of encouragement, I finally convinced her to go up to an altar call, and some lady was "slain in the spirit" and landed on her foot!) Ironically, you'll notice, the closer I got to Catholicism, the further I retreated into my Pentecostalism--them Catholics weren't gonna take me alive!
Meanwhile, back at Bible College, I'm taking my actual course load, which involved two rather influential courses in my conversion. The first was "Introduction to Worship and Music", which I wouldn't have taken (not being very musical) except that it was mandatory. It happened to be taught by a former Catholic--who happened to still appreciate the Catholic Church! Wonderful Irish-Canadian fellow: Sean O'Leary (who, incidentally, taught me the word "charismaniac"). Anyway, he taught us about all the different forms and styles of church worship, including that unfathomable mystery called the Liturgy! Well, this was helpful because I was able to see that liturgy wasn't "dead ritual" after all, and, now that I was dating a Catholic, and attending Mass with her, it actually made sense to me!
The second course was one called "Spiritual Formation and Disciple-making". The prof was a rather charismatic individual himself, and taught us about various ancient and modern spiritual practices and traditions all across the Christian spectrum, like the Jesus Prayer, Lectio Divina, Quiakerism, the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, fasting, charismatic worship, and others. In the process, we talked about great saints and mystics--many of whom were Catholic! And what's more, many of those Catholics described an intimacy with Jesus that went beyond anything that I as a Pentecostal had ever experienced! How was that possible in a religion that consisted of dead ritual?!
Well, obviously what I'd learned about Catholicism growing up (and in History class) was somewhat inaccurate, so in the grand tradition of thinking for myself, I neglected the vast majority of my studies in order to pursue "the Catholic question". I'd read everything I could find in the library at school, on the internet, or anywhere else. Some people, expressing curiosity and concern, even lent me books on the subject--some rather anti-Catholic, and some pro-Catholic, just so I could properly inform myself. I'd spend all night reading (I worked as a security guard at the time), and even racked up $300 dollar cell phone bills reading Catholic Answers on my cell phone back in the days before internet cell phone plans!
I'd take the best Protestant arguments against Catholicism and go to Melissa and her priest with them, as well as to these Catholic sites. I'd take their arguments back with me to Bible College, to my fellow students and my professors. I'd pray, read the Scriptures, and just keep going back and forth.
Mary, the Eucharist, and Purgatory were my biggest hang-ups. I got the Pope and Infallibility--after all, I was looking for the Church that claimed to know the Truth. I just had to make sure as best as I could that they actually did have the truth. Purgatory proved to be a rather easy conclusion, and I quickly realised in the back-and-forth presentation of arguments described above, that the Protestant position basically boiled down to a sort of repackaged Gnosticism, where our good spirits are trapped in our evil bodies, and that, even if we're still not entirely perfect in life, at death our perfect souls leave our bodies and go to heaven! That's really the only alternative explanation anyone could come up with to fit the facts and exclude Purgatory--and that explanation is a heresy! As Sherlock Holmes was apt to say, "Once you exclude the impossible, whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth."
The Bible itself sold me on the Eucharist, as I was unable to escape the exceedingly literal emphasis of John 6, "For My flesh is true food, and My Blood is true drink" (v.55), and St. Paul's definite identification of the Eucharist as a sacrifice in 1 Corinthians 10 and 11. I went from questioning whether Jesus was truly Present, to eagerly longing to be able to receive Him. And yet I still held off until I was as sure as I could be--despite enduring what my priest called "Eucharistic Hunger" for nearly four years!
Mary, though, was not so easy. The Catholic arguments all made sense in my head, but, as they say, the longest distance to travel is the 18 inches from your head to your heart. I just couldn't get past the inundation since a child that Marian devotion was idolatrous. Even though my head knew it wasn't, in my heart, it still felt like sin. At that final interview in the RCIA process, I discussed this with my priest, and asked whether I could still become a Catholic, even if it felt sinful to pray to Mary? He said as long as I didn't tell others that it was a sin to venerate her, that I could! But, he said, I had to continue to pray and seek Jesus' opinion about His Mother and devotion to her. That, I could readily agree to, and so, finally, a journey to the Catholic Church that began in the beginning of 2000, ended in the spring of 2004 at the Easter Vigil.
I went a bit Pentecostal at my first Communion! I was almost worried that the hype I'd created in my head over the last four years of receiving Jesus literally present in the Eucharist would come to an anti-climax when all I got was a piece of bread and a sip of wine--but Jesus never lets you down! I walked back to my pew in ecstasy, and couldn't stop speaking in tongues! I tried to be really quiet about it so as not to freak out my newly-confirmed confrères, but that's no easy task for this former-Pentecostal boy!
Anyway, as I said, Mary was still a problem for me--but Jesus took care of that in no time, once I made that step of obedience to join the Church. There were two key ways this happened. First, shopping in a Protestant Christian bookstore, I happened upon Scott Hahn's "Hail Holy Queen". After hesitating for a while (never having heard of Scott Hahn before), I bought it and wow! Did he ever open up Scripture to me in a whole new way! Now, I'm an emotional person, but I get emotional about the dumbest stuff--namely, theological concepts and such. So I'm reading about how Mary fits the typological fulfilment of the Ark of the Covenant blah blah blah, and I've got tears running down my cheeks! The Mary train had departed the head; destination: Heart!
At the same time, I started praying the Rosary. Oddly, despite my reservations about Mary, the Rosary itself always held some major appeal. Maybe it was just its status as one of those quintessential emblems of all things Catholic, but I took up praying it despite the Hail Marys. I understood that they were the "behind the scenes" portion, and that the Mysteries were central, so I managed to get around them. And what better way to ask Jesus His opinion on His mother than by meditating on her Assumption and Coronation?
Just a couple years before my conversion, Pope John Paul II added the Luminous Mysteries, including the second one, the Wedding at Cana. The little booklets the RCIA team gave us on the Rosary included all the new mysteries, as well as suggested intentions for each one. I remember praying for those intentions faithfully, in words like, "Dear Jesus, as I meditate on Your Agony in the Garden, I ask for true sorrow for my sins," or "Jesus, as I meditate on Your Resurrection, I ask for greater faith." Well, the suggested intention for the Wedding Feast at Cana was "that we would have greater trust in Mary's maternal intercession for us." So one day, I'm praying, "Jesus, as I meditate upon the Wedding Feast at Cana, help me to trust more in Your Mother's maternal intercession for me." And I stop, and think, now that's just odd. I'm praying to Jesus to ask Him to help me trust more in Mary's prayers for me. That's like saying, "Jesus, Your Mom's gonna come talk to You about me in a second. Could You listen to her, please?" Seems sort of out of order. So I pray, "Jesus, I hope this is okay. Mary, please help me trust more in your maternal intercession for me."
Wham! Everything changed in that second! Mary wasn't just a theological concept anymore--she was a real person! I could talk about having a relationship with her in the same way I could about a relationship with Jesus! The pieces fell into place, and I grew to not only "get" Mary, but to love her as well! And I still do! I even joined the Confraternity of the Holy Rosary this past year!
So, that was all well and good. I graduated from Bible College the same April that I was confirmed, at the opposite end of the month. I still wonder if I'm the first, or the only, Catholic grad from EBC! Of course, I had been there for 5 years, but due to my messy break-up, and my searching out Catholicism, I managed to achieve a 2 year Diploma of Biblical studies :p
And, since I got married (it seemed wrong somehow to say to my sponsor/girlfriend, "Well, thanks for getting me into the Church, now I'm off to seminary!" and since God never told me that's what I should do, I let the relationship take its natural course), I realised the full impact of the sacrifices entailed in my conversion. That is, I sacrificed my whole career goals! What's a guy who's only ever educated himself to be a pastor do when he can't do that?! So far, a lot of general labour, with a brief, wonderful, two-year stint as a youth minister at a Catholic parish. Not a whole lot of those full-time youth min jobs floating around. But I keep looking. I know God's got something good coming.
It's interesting, though, as I continue to ponder my calling, I've wondered a lot at what God meant when He called me to the ministry when I was 15. For a good while, I wrestled with whether or not I screwed things up. When I was 15, one of the two passages that God used to point me in that direction was the story of Jesus sending out the 72 disciples, two by two, to preach--without money or provisions. When I was 15, I wanted to do that. Rather literally. I was ready to hoof it across Canada! My parents and other sensible people in my life dissuaded me, convincing me that there was a more common-sense interpretation of what God was calling me to. (Ironically, looking back, it was my Catholic guidance counsellor in High School, who, when I told him about my "career goal", said, "Good for you! We need more people like that!") Now as much as my parents were right, I wonder, had I been a Catholic, whether someone would have told me then what I've found out now: namely, that there were Catholics who did take that text seriously, and who did just that! Saints like Francis of Assisi and Dominic Guzman founded Religious Orders whose mission was just that! All other things being equal, had I grown up Catholic, would I be a Dominican now? Turns out, that seems to be the direction God is calling me anyway! Who knew that there was an Order in the Church whose primary charism is a life of preaching? Who knew that this Order has a Lay branch for people like me to participate in that Charism? When I converted, I had no idea. But God did. As I said at the beginning, as I look back, I can clearly see His hand in my life.
True, things haven't always been easy these past six years. Yet despite the hardships and seeming setbacks, I wouldn't trade my Catholic faith, and the opportunity to know and experience Jesus, tangibly, physically, literally in the Eucharist, for the world!
Monday, 8 March 2010
Mysteries -- Self Portrait
Image © 2010 Gregory Watson
Pencil Sketch, 5" x 7".
So I thought I'd do up a self-portrait. It was somewhat inspired by a pic I saw a long time ago in a Breakaway magazine (a teen mag for boys published by Focus on the Family. I don't even know if it still exists). The feature article was about a Christian teenage artist, and he'd done a self-portrait of him praying, with the perspective being looking up from the floor at him, and the cross around his neck was hanging down into the foreground.So yeah, that's the write-up. While the original sketch is not for sale, prints are available. If interested in ordering one, please email me at doubting-thomist@hotmail.com.
I'd wanted to draw a rosary picture with a similar effect, with the crucifix in the immediate foreground, and decided to feature my own rosary, which my wife bought for me on a vacation in Vermont with her family. She found it in an antique shop! Anyway, it's the only time I've ever seen a Celtic Cross with a Corpus on it, so that's cool enough! Plus, the beads are green and each has a shamrock on it. The medal has a side profile of Mary on one side, and an image of Mary appearing to St. Bernadette at Lourdes on the other. So, having settled on the rosary, I figured I'd make it a self-portrait. Initially, I was going to just draw the rosary and my hand, and call it a self-portrait, but then the hand seemed too disembodied, and the right corner needed filling up, so I stuck half of my face in there. Which had the undesired effect of making it a bit too traditional of a self-portrait for my liking, but oh well.
Lastly, I needed to figure out what to fill up the rest of the scene with, so my buddy suggested making it as thought I'm in a darkened church, kneeling in a pew. So the pew back became the "filler" for the foreground, and a stained glass window fills up the upper left corner. I figured it would be fitting for several reasons to depict in the window, the Blessed Virgin giving the Rosary to St. Dominic. First, obviously, it's a "rosary scene". Secondly, it's a way to feature Mary in the picture itself, as well as thirdly to feature St. Dominic. Being very drawn to Dominican spirituality, and discerning joining the Lay Dominicans, I figured it would be appropriate to include the scene. As well, I've just read and seen too much on the Rosary that doesn't mention St. Dominic at all in connection, that I wanted to correct that.
- Full size (5" x 7") limited edition high quality giclée print (unframed): $5.00 (CAD)
- Full size (5" x 7") limited edition high quality giclée print (framed): $12.00 (CAD)
- Image on 4¼" x 5½" Greeting Card (blank): $1.50 (CAD)
God bless
Gregory
Thursday, 25 February 2010
"Well, he became Caaath'lic..."
Sorry for the posting delay. Life took a turn for the hectic lately. Hopefully I'll get some new art up by Easter. If I can get my spare room cleaned up, I can get to my easel again and start work on the commissions that I've been, well, commissioned to do. Oh, and Kane and Anonnunimust B., I haven't forgotten you guys. Kane, I've been too busy to really ponder your question adequately, and Anon., I'm coming up empty on a clear definitive statement on St. Thomas' understanding of Allah's identity, other than what I had given you initially in the Q&A combox. I'm still looking, though.
After I "swam the Tiber", so to speak, six years ago this Easter (Wow! Already?!) I "lost touch" with a number of my friends from my old Pentecostal church and Bible College. Some of them simply drifted out of my life the way people do, but for many, I'd always suspected that my "poping" was a key (if not the key) factor in many of my friendships evaporating almost overnight.
Now, of course, only one or two of the gutsier of them actually came right out and admitted that my conversion was a detriment to our friendship (and, ironically, they're the ones that I do still communicate with, at least from time to time). But for the rest of those former friends and colleagues and classmates who've committed themselves to "radio silence", I'd always suspected that their reason for doing so was that I was now a Catholic. Suspected, but could never really prove. Occasionally, I chastised myself for having a "martyr's complex" about it, because people will ask me about my conversion, my reasons and my story, and what the fallout was. And they'll look at me incredulously when I say that I suspect that a good number of my friends don't talk to me anymore because of my conversion. "That's crazy!" they'll say. "I can't believe they would do that." Truth is, neither could I.
Then, dear friends of mine got married. On their return from their honeymoon, they decided to try a new church. This church happened to be attended by an old Bible College classmate of mine (and of the bride's, for we went to school at the same time). So after the service, she took a few minutes to catch up with this mutual friend of ours, and later on, called me to tell me about it.
'Cause, you know, I happened to come up. My friend asked this fellow if he ever talked to me at all, and, she told me, his response was, "Well, he became Caaath'lic. At first, I tried to say my piece, and he didn't receive it all that well, so, y'know..."
At this, my wonderful friend went to bat for my wife and me, saying, "Oh, well, his wife is my best friend!" In other words, what the hell does denominational affiliation have to do with friendship? I mean, okay, sure, the differences of opinion that come from different beliefs can obviously strain a relationship. But to utterly cut a friend out of your life because he disagrees with you about religion? And the ironic thing is, this person and I were never in agreement when we were both Protestants! But I guess at least then, our one thing in common was our protest against Rome--and that protest trumps all other issues of faith and morals for some people.
I've written all this, not because I'm bitter at this person, or, again, not because I want to play the martyr card ("O woe is me! All my friends hate me, I might as well go eat worms!"). Quite honestly, if my Catholicism is so offensive to you that you have to choke it out like it's a lamentable deformity or contagious plague, then by all means, please beware! Unclean! Unclean!
I suppose there are two points I want to make in writing this: The first is, I'm not sick. Hanging out with me won't infect you with incurable papism--well, unless you're the sort of open-minded person who actually wants to engage in rational dialogue. Then I make no guarantees. In all, I'm still by and large the same person I used to be. The differences that have come about, I hope, are for the better. If not, then who better to let me know than my friends. 'Course, you'd actually have to talk to me to find out.
The second point I want to make is that we've entered the season of Lent. For the majority of my readers, that means, I suppose, meditating on Christ's passion, making sacrifices to more closely identify with Him, and eating fish and chips on Fridays. It's also that time of year when adults considering conversion make that final lap in RCIA, heading to the home stretch before the Easter Vigil finish line (or starting line?). As much as I love you all and encourage you in your journeys to the Catholic Church, I want to make sure that the blinders are off--that you've counted the cost. For many, it's a simple transition, with friends and family on the other side waiting to welcome them home. For many others, it means leaving friends and family behind, feeling wounded and abandoned.
The Catholic Church shows its wisdom in the RCIA process--a nine month journey of investigation and instruction before full reception into the sacramental life of the Church. Not only does it help to prepare the new convert, it gives a gestational period in which, hopefully, those affected by the convert's decision can grow to understand and maybe accept this decision, and even, hoping against hope, join the convert on his journey. Nevertheless, the joy of new birth into the Catholic Church is often tainted by a post-partum depression for the new convert and for those on the far bank of the Tiber River.
For many people on the outside, Richard Dawkins's assessment of the Catholic Church as the greatest force for evil in the world rings absolutely true (though I can't fathom how one purports to back up that assertion--especially in a scientifically empirical manner as Dawkins should be held to as a scientist--but that's an article for another time). Many times, the convert's friends and family can't conceive of them actually wanting to become Catholic. The issue, however, is often such a sensitive one, that they won't actually want to debate you or hear your reasons and justifications for the Church you've grown to love, and your decision to join it. They seem to prefer to speculate on your behalf--reasons ranging from outright psychosis to secret evangelical missions of espionage and sabotage from inside the belly of the Beast. At least, that's the only meaning I can glean from statements such as "Wow, you'll really be able to do some good and effect some real change from the inside!" which I've heard over and over again from friends who couldn't fathom that I actually wanted to leave the Catholic Church just as I've found it, and yet join it wholeheartedly, anyway.
Sadly, it seems, our only response is one of forbearance. We can only nod and smile, and try not to take offense at the implications that we've lost our minds or don't read our Bibles. We can only hope and pray that, even if they never join us in our journey, they can at least be open to hearing about it, understanding our perspective, and prayerfully cheer us on, anyway. And, most of all, be sensitive to where they're at. You may not view your conversion as unfaithful consorting with the Whore of Babylon, but it might feel that way to your closest family members. For those who convert from Evangelicalism, as I did, the temptation to preach at your friends and family is overwhelming--but unless they're actually open to listening, you'll do more harm than good. The truth lived in loving silence is more powerful than truth spoken in pithy arguments. Or, as St. Francis of Assisi put it, "Preach the Gospel always, and when necessary, use words."
I'm praying for you all.
Please pray for me.
Gregory
After I "swam the Tiber", so to speak, six years ago this Easter (Wow! Already?!) I "lost touch" with a number of my friends from my old Pentecostal church and Bible College. Some of them simply drifted out of my life the way people do, but for many, I'd always suspected that my "poping" was a key (if not the key) factor in many of my friendships evaporating almost overnight.
Now, of course, only one or two of the gutsier of them actually came right out and admitted that my conversion was a detriment to our friendship (and, ironically, they're the ones that I do still communicate with, at least from time to time). But for the rest of those former friends and colleagues and classmates who've committed themselves to "radio silence", I'd always suspected that their reason for doing so was that I was now a Catholic. Suspected, but could never really prove. Occasionally, I chastised myself for having a "martyr's complex" about it, because people will ask me about my conversion, my reasons and my story, and what the fallout was. And they'll look at me incredulously when I say that I suspect that a good number of my friends don't talk to me anymore because of my conversion. "That's crazy!" they'll say. "I can't believe they would do that." Truth is, neither could I.
Then, dear friends of mine got married. On their return from their honeymoon, they decided to try a new church. This church happened to be attended by an old Bible College classmate of mine (and of the bride's, for we went to school at the same time). So after the service, she took a few minutes to catch up with this mutual friend of ours, and later on, called me to tell me about it.
'Cause, you know, I happened to come up. My friend asked this fellow if he ever talked to me at all, and, she told me, his response was, "Well, he became Caaath'lic. At first, I tried to say my piece, and he didn't receive it all that well, so, y'know..."
At this, my wonderful friend went to bat for my wife and me, saying, "Oh, well, his wife is my best friend!" In other words, what the hell does denominational affiliation have to do with friendship? I mean, okay, sure, the differences of opinion that come from different beliefs can obviously strain a relationship. But to utterly cut a friend out of your life because he disagrees with you about religion? And the ironic thing is, this person and I were never in agreement when we were both Protestants! But I guess at least then, our one thing in common was our protest against Rome--and that protest trumps all other issues of faith and morals for some people.
I've written all this, not because I'm bitter at this person, or, again, not because I want to play the martyr card ("O woe is me! All my friends hate me, I might as well go eat worms!"). Quite honestly, if my Catholicism is so offensive to you that you have to choke it out like it's a lamentable deformity or contagious plague, then by all means, please beware! Unclean! Unclean!
I suppose there are two points I want to make in writing this: The first is, I'm not sick. Hanging out with me won't infect you with incurable papism--well, unless you're the sort of open-minded person who actually wants to engage in rational dialogue. Then I make no guarantees. In all, I'm still by and large the same person I used to be. The differences that have come about, I hope, are for the better. If not, then who better to let me know than my friends. 'Course, you'd actually have to talk to me to find out.
The second point I want to make is that we've entered the season of Lent. For the majority of my readers, that means, I suppose, meditating on Christ's passion, making sacrifices to more closely identify with Him, and eating fish and chips on Fridays. It's also that time of year when adults considering conversion make that final lap in RCIA, heading to the home stretch before the Easter Vigil finish line (or starting line?). As much as I love you all and encourage you in your journeys to the Catholic Church, I want to make sure that the blinders are off--that you've counted the cost. For many, it's a simple transition, with friends and family on the other side waiting to welcome them home. For many others, it means leaving friends and family behind, feeling wounded and abandoned.
The Catholic Church shows its wisdom in the RCIA process--a nine month journey of investigation and instruction before full reception into the sacramental life of the Church. Not only does it help to prepare the new convert, it gives a gestational period in which, hopefully, those affected by the convert's decision can grow to understand and maybe accept this decision, and even, hoping against hope, join the convert on his journey. Nevertheless, the joy of new birth into the Catholic Church is often tainted by a post-partum depression for the new convert and for those on the far bank of the Tiber River.
For many people on the outside, Richard Dawkins's assessment of the Catholic Church as the greatest force for evil in the world rings absolutely true (though I can't fathom how one purports to back up that assertion--especially in a scientifically empirical manner as Dawkins should be held to as a scientist--but that's an article for another time). Many times, the convert's friends and family can't conceive of them actually wanting to become Catholic. The issue, however, is often such a sensitive one, that they won't actually want to debate you or hear your reasons and justifications for the Church you've grown to love, and your decision to join it. They seem to prefer to speculate on your behalf--reasons ranging from outright psychosis to secret evangelical missions of espionage and sabotage from inside the belly of the Beast. At least, that's the only meaning I can glean from statements such as "Wow, you'll really be able to do some good and effect some real change from the inside!" which I've heard over and over again from friends who couldn't fathom that I actually wanted to leave the Catholic Church just as I've found it, and yet join it wholeheartedly, anyway.
Sadly, it seems, our only response is one of forbearance. We can only nod and smile, and try not to take offense at the implications that we've lost our minds or don't read our Bibles. We can only hope and pray that, even if they never join us in our journey, they can at least be open to hearing about it, understanding our perspective, and prayerfully cheer us on, anyway. And, most of all, be sensitive to where they're at. You may not view your conversion as unfaithful consorting with the Whore of Babylon, but it might feel that way to your closest family members. For those who convert from Evangelicalism, as I did, the temptation to preach at your friends and family is overwhelming--but unless they're actually open to listening, you'll do more harm than good. The truth lived in loving silence is more powerful than truth spoken in pithy arguments. Or, as St. Francis of Assisi put it, "Preach the Gospel always, and when necessary, use words."
I'm praying for you all.
Please pray for me.
Gregory
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Sean Asks...Did God Really Knit Me Together in My Mother's Womb?
For thou didst form my inward parts,For many people, Psalm 139 is a beautiful hymn to God's glory and ever-present providential love. Knowing that He is so much a part of our lives, that He even carefully knit us together from the very moment of our conception brings a sense of comfort, wonder, awe, and even purpose to our lives.
thou didst knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise thee, for thou art fearful and wonderful.
Wonderful are thy works!
Thou knowest me right well;
my frame was not hidden from thee,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately wrought in the depths of the earth.
Thy eyes beheld my unformed substance;
in thy book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
--Psalm 139:13-16
But such is not the case for everyone. When Sean asked me the question that forms the basis for this article, he admitted that this idea gave him a lot of trouble. He wrestled a lot with that passage in Psalm 139, about how God knits us together in our mothers' wombs. He said, "either that's not true, and the Bible has errors, or it is true and therefore God hates me. Because if He specifically put me in my mother's womb, that's the only logical conclusion."
In discussing this issue with Sean, I tried to provide alternative explanations--that God can use these problems for good, if Sean would let Him. That Sean could "offer up" his sufferings to Jesus for great spiritual and physical good for others, such as healings or conversions. And while the Church's teaching of "Redemptive Suffering" is true and good, and in very real ways has helped so many people recognise that there is a purpose to our suffering--that it is not in vain--nevertheless, the answers I had never seemed to quite get to the core of Sean's question--and the question behind the question, which was, at bottom, why did God put Sean inside that particular woman's womb? Beyond the unhelpful obvious, I had nothing.
Then one day we were discussing the Blessed Virgin Mary. Sean attends a Protestant church and, with the upcoming Christmas season, the pastor there felt that he had to say something about the Blessed Mother--which, as so often is the case, ends up being an anti-Catholic polemic against "Mariolatry". The pastor, in his sermon, basically denied (and misrepresented) Catholic interpretations of Mary, so Sean came right to me, and we began discussing it. Marian dogmas are difficult for him, as they are for most Protestants.
But all of a sudden he says to me, "I was thinking about Mary the other day, and all of a sudden I felt like I was in love. Not in a weird sexual way, but like she was the most perfect Lady and my Mother, all at the same time. I can't describe the feeling, but I still get all shy and blushing when I think about it--totally not like me!" (He is the lead singer in a rock band, after all.)
Sean and I had been discussing the Catholic Church's various teachings about Mary, and he had still felt somewhat uncomfortable about them. Yet doctrines are not the person that they describe. That is, the goal of the Christian life is not adherence to specific doctrinal formulations (although that is important and necessary). The Doctrines are there to point us to a person, and to lead us into relationship with that person. The Ultimate Goal is obviously to be led deeper into relationship with the Person of Jesus Christ. And yet that familial relationship with Jesus includes the rest of His family with it. Jesus, our Elder Brother, brings us into right relationship with His Father and our Father. And in His total self-giving, He give us all His family, too. Including His own Mother, whom He gave us at the Cross.
And Mary, true to her whole purpose for being, her one, truest love, leads us through a relationship with her, deeper in relationship, deeper in love, with God Himself.
So I said to Sean, "Remember how you said that if God knit you together in your mother's womb, then He must hate you? Does the fact that God gave you His own Mother help to make up for that?"
He was so overwhelmed by that he almost cried, and had to go offline just to meditate on that notion for a while. Mary brought healing to Sean's anger at God for the pain in his life because of his biological mother's abuse, and helped to mend a rift in Sean's relationship with Jesus.
God bless.
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