Submission Healed My Soul: One Catholic's Story

Once again, divorced and remarried Catholics are at the forefront of public consciousness, thanks to Cardinal Kaspar's recent absurd statement. I've decided to enter the fray (however briefly) and provide a different story. Since this is a personal account, it should be taken for what it is: one Catholic's personal perspective from lived experience. (In case you're tempted to call me an expert.)

I was divorced in February 2002. From my baptism at 18 years of age I'd been a nominal Catholic at best, living life on my own terms with very little concern for what the Vatican had to say. Although I identified as Catholic, my behavior and attitudes were decidedly pagan/secular. My wife and I had been married civilly, before a Justice of the Peace. As with most legal marriages in the U.S.A., things fell apart. We separated, and finally divorced, with a child between us.

I'll avoid reliving the bleak cyclone of the grieving process (which few people actually care about anyway.) It suffices to say that I survived the darkness that many men are forced to confront alone when their spouse abandons them. It was at that point in my life that God led me to the priest who would catalyze a profound change in my outlook, Fr. Erik J. Richtsteig.

At first, I didn't like him. He was a rigid, tradition-bound, stick in the mud. I mainly attended his parish because I needed a place to call home and I'd been invited by an acquaintance who was a parishioner there. Usually, what he had to say went in one ear and out the other. After all, I was an adult. I knew best how to live my life in relation to my subjective circumstances, and this quaint anachronism of a priest was just sorely misinformed about the world. Sooner or later he would be transferred, hopefully replaced with a priest who was more in touch with the modern world. In the mean time, I could try to open his mind.

Such was my mindset one fine spring weekend around 2005 when Fr. Richtsteig went on retreat. He left his parish in the capable hands of his friend, Fr. Pius of Mount Angel Seminary. That weekend happened to be particularly bleak and trying for me. When I went in "just to talk" to this unfamiliar Benedictine, I didn't have an inkling that my true conversion would begin that day. That talk turned into a good, honest confession. I don't recall what he said, but I do remember its deep impression. I began to question all that I thought I knew--about life, about the Church, and about the world. One day while praying the Peace Prayer attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, I was powerfully struck by the words "Oh Divine Master, grant that I may never seek so much...to be understood as to understand..." I realized that I didn't have any understanding of Father's point of view. With that in mind, I began to listen. I began to read. I began to understand--and what I understood, shocked me.

Fr. Richtsteig was teaching the authentic doctrine of the Catholic Faith.

Almost everything I thought I knew about Catholicism post-Vatican II was wrong! It was I who was in error. My ideas and behavior that needed to be realigned. If I was to continue to be Catholic, my submission to the teaching authority of Holy Mother Church was mandated. Steadily, I began to bring myself into conformity with the Church.

That was almost ten years ago, and I have no cause to regret my decision. I can honestly say that my life has improved. The existential angst that compelled me to go to Mass-as-group-therapy when I was stumbling about in the darkness has been truly resolved, through the simple act of submission. It started with an increase of faith (the virtue by which we intellectually submit to a revealed truth, which we may not understand fully) and cultivating honest humility. In my case, this meant becoming familiar with the words "I don't know." It meant overcoming the erroneous idea that "knowing something in my heart" made it true, even where what I "knew" contradicted a revealed truth of the Faith.

Here we come to the crux of the matter. The German bishops seem to think almost unanimously that the Church should conform to the world, particularly regarding Catholics who have been civilly divorced and civilly remarried without obtaining an annulment from the Church. That was once my view, and it was wrong. It remains wrong, even if those who hold such a view are bishops. It might seem unfair to deny those Catholics full participation in the Sacraments. It might seem more loving and compassionate to simply change. But I can honestly attest to you, Excellencies, that you would be doing all of those people a grave disservice in the long run. They would know that you simply caved in to circumstance; how then could they trust anything you say? Where might I be if Fr. Pius had simply patted me on the head and given me a cookie? (Metaphorically speaking.) I was on the road to Hell, Excellencies. I thank God that Fr. Pius cared enough about my soul to point that out to me and call me to repentance, in such a way that I heard what he was saying. I pray that you will all do the same; only good could come of it.

Sede Vacante.

The blogosphere has been all a-twitter (n.p.i.) since 2/11. Until now, I have kept my thoughts close. How could I adequately express how the abdication of the Pope--my Pope, Benedict XVI--knocked the wind from my lungs? What could this mean? Why now?

Ironically, I was asking those same questions on April 19, 2005.

Back then, I was only just rediscovering what it means to be Catholic. I was a left-of-center Cafeteria Catholic who couldn't understand why God had chosen the dreaded "Rottweiller" to be His vicar. Wasn't the Church evolving? Becoming more inclusive? Surely this was a mistake--perhaps a recount was in order...? Little did I know how much this papacy would change the face of Holy Mother Church, and my own life.

I became a Catholic in 1991. My conversion was largely aesthetic: I was in love with the institution I saw on T.V. and in the movies. All that arcane ritual, incense, Latin and chant in majestic stone cathedrals lit by massive stained glass windows. Mozart's Requiem. Vestiges of a noble medieval past. I didn't care much for the doctrine; but that distasteful stuff was changing, right?

I was acutely disappointed to discover that those changes had also eliminated everything I loved. The new way of doing things didn't really move me the way "Cathollywood" did. I still chose to be baptized, but it wasn't long before I lost interest and wandered off. (I wasn't really that fond of hippie music.)

For six long years, I tried different things on for size, then lost belief in everything. I grew severely angry, depressed, nihilistic and bitter.

Flash forward to 1996. A few events had happened that shook my worldview significantly (I won't bore you with the personal details.) Nostalgic and a bit lost, I wandered into the chapel of the local Newman Center. I sat there for a good long while, staring at the altar and wishing I could come home. I'm not sure what moved me to talk with the pastor, but I did. He radiated peace, joy and wisdom. He was also a dreadful Neo-Modernist; but at that time I was ignorant. I didn't even know that term existed (truth be known, I wouldn't have cared if I had.) One talk led to another and I was soon singing with the choir every Saturday.

Then I rather abruptly met and married a Wiccan, outside the Church. I quit going again. Four years and one kid later, we were in divorce court. Broken, I moved back home to reassemble the pieces. For the sake of my kid, I went back to church. An acquaintance went to St. James the Just, so I started attending there, despite the infamous Father Erik J. Richsteig. (Had I heard the bells of fate ringing, I probably would have run in the opposite direction.) By then, I was used to the Novus Ordo. I even had my favorite hippie songs. I was singing in the choir again. My attitude hadn't really changed much, but it was changing. Slowly. The biggest catalyst for change were two dreadful words thundering out on April 19, 2005:

"Habemus papam."

The man I dreaded more than Jesse Helms was now the Holy Father. What to do? I chose to let it rest in God's hands. Over the course of a year, I discovered that everything I "knew" was wrong. My daughter made her first Communion. My ex-wife became a Catholic.

Then came Summorum Pontificum. Right about that time, I discovered that my ex-wife had fled to the SSPX in desperation, thanks to recurring issues in our lukewarm diocese. Like any good father, I began looking closely at this disturbing new influence in my daughter's life. In the process, I discovered the FSSP and an entire trove of Traddies in full communion with Rome. I was elated. I bought a 1962 Roman Catholic Daily Missal from Catholic Caravans when they came to visit our parish. Immediately afterwards I half-jokingly approached Fr. Richsteig to have it blessed, holding it aloft:

"Hey, Father! Are you going to give us a chance to use these?"

He gave me a look, made the Sign of the Cross over my new purchase, and slowly replied "HmmMay-be."

About a year later, he did (despite passive-aggressive resistance.) Every Wednesday and the first Sunday of every month. I became a regular attendee; soon I was learning to serve. The graces that come with service at the altar have changed my soul and my outlook forever. I joined the Confraternity of St. Peter, embraced the rich patrimony of the Extraordinary Form.

I had grown to love "our German Shepherd." My dismay was now joy. The Church I had wanted to join was here again (albeit diminished, in absolute ruins on our local level.) Pope Benedict XVI was to thank for it.

I also rejoiced when the Pope introduced changes to the English translation of the Novus Ordo Missae. By that time my doctrinal understanding had evolved into something unrecognizable from the shallow aestheticism that led to my baptism, the sappy & sentimental need to belong that had formed my "reversion" (both times.) Still a far cry from the depth and splendor of the Usus Antiquior which has become my preferred mode of worship, I see a glimmer of hope for the future of the Ordinary Form which was not there when His Holiness Benedict XVI became Pope. His papacy has formed my future, and that of my family.

On February 11, 2013 His Holiness knocked the wind out of me again.

I got a text from my fiancee. Our beloved Holy Father was resigning. I was stunned. Had the circling wolves at last devoured my dear shepherd? Anxiously I watched the news, hoping to make some sense of this jarring development.

Thanks to this insightful post by Dr. John C. Rao, I have some perspective and equilibrium again. I will pray for the coming Conclave. May God send us the Pope we need at this crucial time.

Veni, Creator Spiritus.

ANOTHER Conversion Story?

It seems like everyone wants to bullhorn their thoughts, opinions, and personal lives into the ether for all to see. The desire to be noticed, loved, seen as an important expert...these tend to override both shame and good common sense. My last blog (now defunct) was no exception. It had become nothing more than a vehicle for my own narcissism. So I killed it.

Now I'm back. I was going to bore all three of my readers (only a one of whom actually intended to end up here, the others having arrived purely by accident) with the prosaically eloquent (secret code for "long-winded and pretentious") tale of how and why I came to Tradition. Sufficient prayer and reflection made me think better of it. Why trade one narcissistic blog for another? It seems better to post a link to one of the prayers that has become the cornerstone of my spiritual life:

The Litany of Humility

And while we're somewhere near the topic, please consider taking up the cause for the beatification of its author.