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All pages copyright © 2003 Thomas Ross Valentine.
All rights reserved.
Thomas Ross Valentine
Originally written whilst a Roman Catholic in response to requests from others, it has been updated a few times, and (God willing) will never be complete.
This incredible experience occurred in late October or early November of my first semester. One night,
having said my prayers, I went to bed, but felt uneasy. I began praying, asking God to fill me with His peace. There
was no reason for my lack of peace — except that God was using it. Suddenly, I felt prompted to ask for Mary’s
intercession. I didn’t know her titles. I may have known Virgin Mary
, but probably not Blessed
Virgin Mary
and certainly not Our Lady
, Mother of God
, Blessed Mother
,
or Theotokos
. I knew no special Marian prayers. Though knowing neither prayers nor titles, I knew the
doctrine of the Intercession of the Saints (praise God!), even though I had previously decided I had no use for it
because I could address my prayers directly to God. I asked Mary to pray to God for me, to send peace. The moment I
made the request, I was filled with a tremendous peace. Immediately, I realised that the doctrine of the Intercession
of Saints was not merely acceptable, but good, useful, and practical.
This event pushed me even closer towards catholicism, but I still wasn’t completely convinced.
I still needed a little nudge. It wasn’t long in coming. The event that set off the chain reaction was —
in itself — trivial. But it was not in the strong wind or the earthquake or the fire that Elijah encountered God,
but in the whisper. One Sunday morning, it was announced that the Episcopal Church would introduce first communion
before Confirmation. I didn’t understand the reasons, I was ignorant of the normal practice in Roman Catholicism
or Orthodoxy, but it was one more change. I didn’t like change in my religion. Religion was supposed to be solid
and unchangeable — like God Himself. I felt as if the Episcopal Church offered nothing but shifting sands. I had
previously considered being in a bridge church
an advantage (the best of both), but was finding the bridge
didn’t have much substance. It wasn’t a place where one could dwell, let alone grow. Years later, I
realised the fundamental problem: it was impossible to be catholic
(submitting to the Church and to Tradition)
where there was no manifestation of the catholic tradition
. Anglicanism’s tolerance of all beliefs —
what has been labelled liturgical unitarianism
— could not offer Tradition. I was left to adhere to
my interpretation of catholic tradition
— an inherently Protestant concept. Put another way, it
was impossible to be c/Catholic
and Protestant
.
As I had become an Anglo-Catholic and my attraction to catholicism had increased, it was probably
inevitable — like the Anglo-Catholics of the Oxford Movement — that I would become a Roman Catholic. I had
accepted the three-branch theory
, but it now seemed that the Anglican branch was too shaky. The Orthodox branch
was unknown to me. I knew no Orthodox Christians. I thought Orthodoxy only existed in Greece. It was invisible from my
perspective. In contrast, Roman Catholicism, was something I knew was available. I knew Roman Catholics, I knew there
were Roman Catholic parishes around. There seemed no alternative.
At home during Thanksgiving break, I made some positive comment about the Roman Catholic Church — I don’t remember exactly what I said — expressing interest in it. Having previously expressed interest in becoming an Episcopalian priest, my parents assumed I was now thinking of becoming a Roman Catholic priest. Their reaction was very negative, filling the house with tension. This was my first direct experience with my parents’ anti-Roman Catholicism. The natural rebelliousness of being a teenager caused my parents’ reaction to increase the attractiveness of Roman Catholicism. Upon returning to school, I began attending Mass. Being similar to the Episcopalian liturgy, it was easy to follow. I began attending Mass regularly on Sunday evenings whilst attending the Episcopal Church Sunday mornings. Though I wasn’t one hundred percent certain, I was fairly sure that I would convert.
I didn’t attend Mass during Christmas break. I attended the local Episcopalian parish with my family and said nothing about having attended Mass at school. But upon returning to school in January, I resumed Mass attendance. After one of my first Masses of the new year, I walked the priest (the pastor) to his car and told him I was thinking about becoming Catholic. He invited me to instruction classes. Because the classes were scheduled to run beyond the end of the semester, three of us from school received additional mid-week instruction at the rectory in March and April. This provided a regular opportunity to discuss our reasons for attending the classes. We each had different reasons. One had no intention of converting, but thought that by becoming familiar with Roman Catholicism, she could get her Roman Catholic boyfriend to attend church. The other was an Episcopalian who was marrying a Roman Catholic that summer and was converting before marriage: she and I talked about becoming Roman Catholics. We discussed the Roman Catholic teaching on birth control and agreed the church did not understand all the facts. I embraced the ad hominem objection that the teaching came from an old, unmarried man who knew nothing about being married.
We disagreed about Infallibility. Though she intended to become a Roman Catholic, she considered it unlikely that she would ever accept it. I managed to accept it through a rationalisation, thinking there was little chance a man could be called to the priesthood, become a priest, then a bishop, then a cardinal, and then pope unless he were a good Christian. I figured the screening at each point would be sufficiently controlled by the Holy Spirit. (My grasp of Christian history wasn’t very good at that point.) Moreover, I felt a man who had attained the papacy would not declare a teaching infallible unless convinced by the Holy Spirit. It wasn’t a good understanding of Papal Infallibility, but soothed my discomfort with the teaching.
On Friday 26 April 1974, I made my Profession of Faith before the evening Mass. I had a twinge of doubt when I came to the passage that declared other churches were in error — I was not yet intellectually convinced that Anglicanism was wrong, but was convinced in my heart that the Roman Catholic Church was right for me, and so I made my Profession of Faith.
A few days later, I went home for the summer. Now that I was a Roman Catholic, the anti-Roman
Catholicism, particularly from my mother, intensified. I don’t recall if she repeated the story about being kept
from Mass by her mother, but she did tell me she had once received a marriage proposal from a lawyer. She said, The only
reason I didn’t accept it was because he was Catholic and I didn’t want my children raised Catholic.
She
also said me she could have accepted me becoming a Jew or joining some Eastern religion like Buddhism more easily than
she could accept my becoming Catholic. I remember thinking how un-Christian her attitude was, but not wanting to
exacerbate the situation, I remained silent.
It was a difficult summer, but the persecutions reinforced my commitment to the Roman Catholic Church. During my sophomore year, I became involved in partying and my spiritual life suffered, but I remained committed to the Catholic Faith. Had I been given a choice of converting or dying, I’d have gladly died. I settled down my junior year and re-exerted my efforts towards spiritual growth. The following summer I remained on campus and experienced tremendous growth in my faith.
I began attending daily Mass and continued to study. As my intellectual understanding of Roman Catholicism grew, I became more convinced it was the true Church. My perspective was thoroughly Western. I knew nothing of Eastern Christianity. The only division in Christianity that meant anything to me was the Roman Catholic/Protestant split and it was on that subject that I focused my intellectual study. I concluded that the principal difference between them was that of authority. If a Protestant had a question about a matter of faith, he sought his answer in the Bible, basing his decision on personal interpretation. I accepted that a Roman Catholic with a question went to the Roman Catholic Church for an answer because he accepted that it and its authority were established by our Lord Jesus Christ. Because Protestantism and Roman Catholicism had different starting points, I believed the systems were necessarily different. I thought both systems were logical unto themselves, but believed the starting point of the Roman Catholic system made more sense. (It took a few more years before I realised that the Protestant principle of individual interpretation couldn’t be logically defended.) My studies led me to a more intellectual grasp of my faith and my mind began to catch up to my heart’s embrace of Roman Catholicism.
At daily Mass, I met a lady who introduced me to the charismatic movement where I met my future wife, Jeanne. Initially, I was reluctant to date Jeanne because she wasn’t Roman Catholic (she was an Episcopalian!), but we did date and soon decided to marry. Though from the area and having attended the Episcopal Church near her home, Jeanne preferred my pastor, so we married in my parish. A few months later, she began attending instruction classes given by my pastor. In the spring of 1978, Jeanne was received into the Roman Catholic Church. From that moment, we began to make our spiritual journey together.
Before marriage, we had to decide about birth control. We knew the Roman Catholic teaching (but didn’t understand the reasons behind it). Jeanne shared my attitude which hadn’t changed. Since the teaching was not, in our view, an infallible teaching, we chose to reject it. Relying upon our personal judgement, we chose a form of artificial birth control we deemed morally acceptable. We used it for more than a year before deciding to be receptive to having a child.
Soon after our daughter was born, I saw a notice about Natural Family Planning (NFP) classes. I knew NFP was being promoted by our new pope. John Paul II was younger and more charismatic than Pope Paul VI — it seemed difficult to dismiss him with the same ad hominem arguments I had previously accepted — yet he was teaching the same thing! We went to the class, knowing nothing about NFP. When we had made our original decision, we thought the only acceptable method was the Rhythm Method.
The instructors asked if we had read Humane Vitae, the encyclical by Pope Paul VI condemning
artificial birth control. We replied that we knew what it said. They replied, That’s not what we asked. Have
you actually read it?
Well... no
, we admitted. They gave us a copy and urged us to read it. We did. We were
impressed. We saw that Pope Paul VI had accurately predicted the results of widespread artificial birth control. He had
foreseen artificially infertile women having difficulty resisting men’s sexual demands. He had predicted this
would encourage women being seen as sex objects — even by husbands of their wives. Written eleven years earlier,
much of what he had predicted had come true. His argumentation made sense. We realised the Church was right, had always
been right; we had been wrong. This realisation brought about a transformation in my life.
I had only been partially committed to the Roman Catholic Faith. I had maintained intellectual reservations, especially with Humane Vitae. I hadn’t totally rejected Protestantism. I had employed the Protestant principle of personal interpretation to selectively accept and reject Church teachings. I recognised that the attitude that I might know better than the Church was incredibly arrogant, proud, and sinful. The Church had many more years of wisdom and experience and the contributions of many very holy people over the centuries. How could I, young and inexperienced — and certainly no saint — be so arrogant as to think I knew better than the Church? I decided that if there was ever again a difference between what I thought and what the Church taught, I would defer to the Church.
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