Let me preface this post by saying that it will take me my entire life to comprehend just a smidgen of the rich beauty and truth found in the Church. Another convert, David Hall, compared the Church to an ocean, and his old tradition to a water pale--one you can drink from and finish, the other envelopes you in its sheer vastness.
Since coming into the Church, I've been overwhelmed with love and acceptance. To all, I bid a heartfelt thank-you. However, I've also realized that there are some Catholics who don't rejoice at the new found zeal of a convert. Instead, they kind of smugly resent the fact that "we" think we know the faith, when in fact "they" have been Catholic their entire life, and as a neophyte, we should resign ourselves to quietude on the back pew--thank you very much.
As I have reflected upon this particular situation, I am struck by how much the story of the prodigal son applies. Now bare in mind, I'm not saying that I ever left Christ, but what I am admitting is that, at no fault of my own, I was born into the trough. My naissance was not in the house that Christ built, but instead I was reared as a spiritual expatriate living under a lean-to in the spiritual bush. This might seem an outrageous or polemical claim, but let me explain what I mean.
If there are seven sacraments, and if they are the ordinary way we receive grace, and if grace is the gift of God that empowers us to new life in Him (CCC 1997) and:
- If the church I was in put off baptism until much later in life;
- did not recognize marriage as a sacrament;
- did not believe the Eucharist was the sacrament of Christ's body and blood;
- had no sacrament of Confirmation;
- denied the licitness of the sacrament of Confession;
- had no formal sacrament of Extreme Unction;
- and had no Holy Orders
Then if you compare that church with the Church with all seven sacraments, you get the picture I am talking about.
And then we come Home.
So what does the Father do?
- He hears our Confession
- Places a robe on our shoulders to reflect the renewal of our Baptismal vow
- Places a ring upon our hand (Confirmation)
- Places sandals upon our feet (the whole Gospel/the Catholic faith)
- Slaughters the lamb for a feast (Holy Eucharist)
This is marvelous! The son who was fed on the scraps and left to beg is now at the table of his father and can feast like a true son. Over in the corner, is the eldest son--faithful, practical and plodding--yet when the prodigal comes back, he won't even enter the house at the word that his brother has returned.
And so, too, with the words of the Father is my word to every cradle Catholic, whether you rejoice that I'm in the Church or are hesitant because of my zeal:
"You have always been here, all (that the Father has) is yours!"
I am a witness, not of what you don't have, but of what you have always had. To remind everyone whose been on the farm forever, that the fruit on the tree is not just for looking at. Converts don't act this way because we know more, we act this way because we have lived with less for so long. The cake has not lost its sweetness, it has only just begun to fill our palate with its everlasting joy. I know that temperance is a virtue, but let me revel a bit while my wounds heal.
Cradle Catholics, I admire you. I wish I were you. Don't ever think the grass is greener. It isn't. I know, I know, you hear people talk about our scandals, our problems, but they have them too. Christ is the Truth, so to be in His Church and have the fullness of the Truth is to have the fullness of Christ. Feast while you are on the father's farmstead. Revel, again, in the mystery, beauty and power of the sacraments. For in them, Christ comes to meet us, his bride, and to give himself to us as a foretaste of that heavenly and eternal encounter.
As a convert, I can learn so much from the cradle Catholic: the gentile and serene way of living the faith, the abiding love of the saints, the precious devotion to our Lord in the Eucharist, the liturgical life and Church traditions integrated into one's very existence. In all these ways and more, I must learn from the elder son--the son who stayed home--what it means to simply be.
Pray for me, elder brother or sister. Pray for me.
Cradle Catholics, I admire you. I wish I were you. Don't ever think the grass is greener. It isn't. I know, I know, you hear people talk about our scandals, our problems, but they have them too. Christ is the Truth, so to be in His Church and have the fullness of the Truth is to have the fullness of Christ. Feast while you are on the father's farmstead. Revel, again, in the mystery, beauty and power of the sacraments. For in them, Christ comes to meet us, his bride, and to give himself to us as a foretaste of that heavenly and eternal encounter.
As a convert, I can learn so much from the cradle Catholic: the gentile and serene way of living the faith, the abiding love of the saints, the precious devotion to our Lord in the Eucharist, the liturgical life and Church traditions integrated into one's very existence. In all these ways and more, I must learn from the elder son--the son who stayed home--what it means to simply be.
Pray for me, elder brother or sister. Pray for me.
