My Journey of Faith

Ronald Reagan famously said when asked why he switched parties, "I didn't leave the Democratic Party, the Democratic Party left me." That sentiment aptly describes some of my feelings about the Catholic Church, a church in which I was baptized, raised, confirmed and married. It is a church which provided me with the moral background which has guided me throughout my life, gave me a first rate education throughout elementary and high school, and kept taking me back time and again when I would leave it and then eventually be drawn back for various reasons. It is also the church to which I find myself no longer able to call myself a member because I simply can no longer justify the divergences in our philosophies and beliefs.

My religious journey has been one which has been as heart wrenching as it has been joyful, as agonizing as it has been rewarding. I share it with you here not to convince you of any particular belief is "correct" as there is no such thing as far as I can see or to criticize any particular belief. I share it simply to help me make some sense of everything that has happened so far and perhaps to seek understanding both in myself and in others.

I was blessed to be raised in a parish outside of Syracuse, NY that was led by an incredible priest who saw his duty as not only spreading the word of God, but leading his congregation to live God's word by seeking justice in our community and in the world. Fr. Tom McLaughlin was not your ordinary priest. An Irish Catholic priest who preached more like a black Baptist minister, it was not surprising that he said that the closest he ever felt to his faith was when he marched with Martin Luther King in Selma, Alabama. Fr. Tom was nowhere near traditional and he at times ignored the dictates of the bishops, especially when those dictates tried to bring particular political issues into the pulpit. But where other parishes were closing or having to consolidate, we had to build a bigger church because parishioners were standing outside the doors of our small church at all three Masses on Sunday.

I loved my church. Not just my parish, but the church as a whole. I saw the Catholic Church as one that welcomed all people. One that stood for justice in our society and was a church of love and inclusion.

As I grew older, as with many young adults I grew away from the church. Like many people gaining new knowledge and insight, inevitably there are conflicts and often those conflicts lead to contempt. Church grew less and less important to me. I questioned my faith. I looked at other religions taking bits of truth where I found them.

For years I drifted, short on faith, rarely attending church. When I lived in the DC area, there was a Catholic church literally across the parking lot from my apartment. But I think I attended mass there twice, both when my then girlfriend who was a little less conflicted with her faith was visiting me.

Still, whenever I would move to a new community, the first thing I would do would be to find the nearest Catholic Church. Some of it was a sense of obligation, some of it was a sense of finding a social circle with similar backgrounds - a sort of tether on which to secure myself. But ultimately the doubts would get the best of me and I would fall back into my drift.

The next big step in my journey would involve a relationship which would eventually become my first marriage. She was raised Presbyterian and I would attend with her and her family most weekends. This was the first church in which I saw a woman leading worship as the interim associate minister at the time was a woman. I enjoyed my time at that church and although I couldn't quite buy the whole predestination thing, I did find the community welcoming. We were eventually married in that church (complete with kilt and bagpipes) but at our new home together we went back to our drifting ways.

It wasn't until the shock of 9/11 and the following week long coverage of the subsequent outpouring of bereavement and mourning that I returned to church. I followed the tragedy of Fr. Mychal Judge's death as he was ministering to his beloved firemen. I watched his funeral Mass as well as the funeral Mass of Barbara Olson, a conservative commentator and wife of Solicitor General Ted Olson. The latter Mass was held at the very church in Arlington, VA that I had attended on those couple of occasions, across the parking lot from my apartment. We felt we needed to attend a service that Sunday, but I made the request that we go to the Catholic church because I wanted something with which I was familiar.

After that, I started attending Mass regularly. As my marriage deteriorated for reasons having little to do with faith, my devotion to the faith in which I was raised became stronger. I found myself praying regularly seeking guidance (something very rare for me). I purchased a Bible and read the passages listed in the church bulletin daily. After we separated, I started a relationship with a Catholic woman who like myself had a somewhat rocky relationship with her faith. We attended church together regularly. That relationship eventually ran its course, and I met the woman who would become my wife and true partner in life. She, too, was Catholic and our shared faith helped cement our relationship. I had my first marriage annulled by the Catholic church and Celena and I exchanged our vows during a full wedding Mass on May 14, 2005.

So why is it, after all that the faith that raised me, formed me, and has played such a major role in my life have I at the age of 41 found myself leaving the Catholic church for another? Well, for the most part it comes down to finding the Catholic church to have become more dogmatic, more exclusive, and simply less accepting of any kind of debate among its ranks. It is hard to have a conversation when one side stops listening.

There are several examples in just the past weeks that illustrate my disenchantment with Catholicism. In the news in the past weeks were the Vatican's very serious rebuke and investigation into American nuns who were apparently focusing too much on social justice and ministering to the sick and poor and less time on dogmatic political ideas; the Catholic League (which let's face it with one dude with an Internet connection and a Rolodex of media contacts) calling for a boycott of the Daily Show because he made fun of the nonexistent War on Christmas; and a bishop in the Midwest who likened President Obama to both Hitler and Stalin during a sermon. The church which was once so welcoming was becoming increasingly dogmatic and intolerant of diverging views.

Unfortunately, the joy which I once found in my religion had been replaced by an increasing despair. Furthermore, I worried about my daughter and what she would face in the future if this trend continues as I expect it to. I did not want her to be raised in a church in which she would be seen as less than equal as anyone else and I did not want her to be not accepted or even worse to become intolerant of others who may be different from her.

But I don't mean for this to be a diatribe about the Catholic church. I have many friends and family who have found great faith and solace in the Catholic church. I will be forever grateful for the support the church gave me and my family during the ordeal of my mother's recent death. The church has a lot of good in it and for those who continue to find comfort and good in it, I have nothing but respect and well wishes.

You see, this is not a journey of loss, but a triumph of rediscovery of a faith which I thought dead and gone. It is a story of joy overcoming sadness and despair. It is a story of rebirth in which I rediscovered the tremendous love that faith in Christ brings.

There are three instances in which I can pinpoint in which I truly felt myself filled with the Holy Spirit. The first was the weekend of my confirmation (my parish obviously did a pretty good job on that one). The second was during the lowest period of my divorce when I was living in an efficiency apartment with a Murphy bed and awoke one morning to pouring rain, near freezing temperatures and could only think to myself "What a beautiful day". The third was the first Sunday I attended Mass at the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in Shelby, NC (and for that matter every Sunday since on which I have attended).

What I experienced in my attendance at Redeemer was a reawakening of my faith. My experiences with what I perceived to be an ever shrinking and exclusionary Catholic church left me doubting the beliefs with which I had grown and even doubting my belief in God. I felt that there was something wrong with me since I was constantly told that the beliefs I knew in my heart to be true were wrong.

My wife and I sought out a place in which we could raise our daughter in a religious tradition. We valued the morals that our Catholic upbringing instilled in us, but we had stopped attending Mass at our local church due to severe disagreements we had with the current pastor of that parish. We had tried other parishes in neighboring communities, but none seemed to be a good fit and were a significant distance from us as well.

I first was drawn to Redeemer after reading that they were hosting a discussion against North Carolina's Amendment One which would enshrine in the state's constitution discrimination against gays and lesbians as well as harming any number of other domestic relationships.

Although I had for years advocated for LGBT rights and have had many close friends who are gay, I had been raised in a religious tradition which shunned and condemned gays and lesbians and treated them as a form of evil. I often wondered why so many of my gay friends identified themselves as Christian as the two things seemed mutually exclusive to me based on my religious background and tradition. Of course, as was made clear to me upon attending my new church, the reason they identify as Christian is because God's love encompasses all of us in all of our individual selves as important and valued members of His family and celebrates our humanness fully and openly.

I soon realized that it wasn't the message, but the delivery system that had alienated me. My faith with which I had struggled my entire life was suddenly stronger than ever. I was filled with a sudden sense of joy. The dissonance that I felt for years sitting in the pews of the various Catholic parishes I attended was replaced by a sense of calm and peace, as the realization that I could at once be fully committed to my faith while at the same time holding the beliefs I have on social and political issues fully settled on me.

I am grateful to Mother Valori Sherer, Deacon Pam Bright and all of the wonderful members of my new church community for welcoming me and my family with open arms and making us feel welcome and for building such a loving and welcoming community of faith. Most of all, though I thank my very understanding and ever patient wife for making this journey with me even though it has been even more difficult for her and even though she is not where I am yet in her journey. I thank God for her courage and understanding throughout all of this.

This has been my journey of faith. Although it may end up somewhere different than yours, I hope everyone reading this can find the love, peace, and joy that I have found on my journey. Whether it is a journey of faith or of non-faith, of whatever denomination or religion, the truth is there to be revealed to you as it is meant for you to find it. The search can be painful and fraught with fear and desperation, but the result can be worth much more than all the hardships.

This journey has made me more confident in myself, closer with my wife and my daughter, better able to see Christ in all those with whom I come in contact daily, and more loving in everything I do.

Thanks be to God.