Born Again, Catholic

Here in the “buckle of the Bible-belt,” we hear a lot about born-again experiences. Well, in 1996 I had a born-again-Catholic experience.

I was born and raised Catholic by two amazing, faithful, Catholic parents who dearly loved the Faith. They practiced what they preached, in love and charity. All through my life, I lived as a Catholic, however with varying degrees of devotion and spiritual intimacy.  There were many times of my life I was just going through the motions, as if the Faith were a club to belong to with a checklist of rules and regulations to follow -like going to Mass as an hour obligation to check off the list of weekly things to do.

So, fast forward to my early 30’s; I am confronted with 3 major challenges. My wife had been dealing with multiple sclerosis for two especially difficult years. My father was diagnosed with cancer. I was trying to decide if I should leave my job and start a new business. In the midst of this turmoil, I felt a longing for something more. I’m sure at some level I was seeking peace, but I also felt like I needed something to fill a gap inside me -while all this crap was going on around me. About that same time, our parish welcomed three new priests.

The new pastor was a youthful, energetic, great-hugging Italian, with a wonderful singing voice. One of the associate pastors was newly ordained and extremely personable. The other associate pastor looked frightened as he introduced himself from the altar that first Sunday. Father Bruce and Father David had made eloquent and humorous self-introductions, but this one … “My name is Father Ed, and I’m glad to be here,” was all he said. He then quietly stepped back to his chair. In my not-so-holy attitude at the time, I thought to myself, “Wow, this one’s going to be a gem at homilies; a real spellbinder. I need to find out when he’s scheduled so we can skip that mass and hit another.” And then I checked my watch to see how my hour obligation was coming along.

I came to learn there was however, something to Father Ed’s homilies. At first I approached them with misgivings and apathy, but something was coming through. In his simple manner; in his quiet demeanor; in his dour look, there was humor; there was warmth; there was …love. And it was penetrating the clutter of my crusted outer shell, not like a knife, but like a needle. He was needling me with the kindest, gentlest, most remarkable conveyance of the message I had ever heard. There was a lot of crust to break through, but it was working its way to my core. And Lent was approaching.
I remember going to Ash Wednesday Mass that year. It was a school mass with all the children of the parish school. As I sat in my back pew, I felt I wanted to belong. I wanted to have some of the innocence I saw in the faces of the uniformed kids that filled the church that morning. I wanted something more than I had.

The Holy Spirit whispered into my ear during that Mass to do something. I didn’t want to listen to this. I didn’t want to do this. …But, I decided to go to confession at the next opportunity.
The following Saturday afternoon, February 24th 1996, I approached the church with a sense of dread and anxiety, and yet feeling an irresistible power drawing me in. I had been reading about perfect contrition, and in order to achieve this I had to tell all. It had been more than a few years since my last confession, so I had a few things to share. Poor Father David; he got the full double barrel story. (He still speaks to me to this day, so maybe he’s heard worse…)

I walked out of that confessional, a new man. There was a peace within me like I had never felt before. I felt like I was floating into the church to say my penance. And afterwards, I floated out of the church into a completely new sunshine. I continued to float for months, years afterwards. To this day, reconciliation is still a favorite sacramental experience. I feel the special grace in the sacrament. I feel the renewal. I feel the spiritual intimacy like no other experience. That’s not a knock on beautiful sunsets, or holding my grandson, or seeing my wife laugh and smile, or even the Eucharist; it’s just very special for me.

So, it’s been 18 years. They haven’t been all floating on clouds. I’ve had my dry times, desperate times; I’ve strayed from the path. In the Gospel the father with a sick son says to Jesus, “I do believe, help my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24) That’s me, many, many days. I hope I’ve matured in my faith, and yet kept a sense of the humble, and the simple that Father Ed continues to preach today. I’m still figuring it out, and still searching. When I get frustrated I think of what Peter said to Jesus after many followers abandoned him, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68)

As we journey through Lent, if you are Catholic and haven’t been to reconciliation in a while, I encourage you to give it another try. If you aren’t Catholic and you have something that keeps you from being close to God, try giving up whatever it is for you. If you’ve hurt someone, tell them you are sorry. If you’ve been avoiding God, tell him you’re sorry, and then open up to the possibility of getting your relationship going again. If you’re searching for something, if there’s a space in you, a place that needs filling, St. Augustine said: “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee."

Peace!