I recently attended a theological conference where, at several points, those of us in attendance made note of how many converts to Catholicism there were present among us. Indeed, at one of the after dinner wine-and-cheese sessions (where the really serious theological discussion gets going), we counted that 13 of 15 people in the room were converts. By converts, we meant a broad term: those of us who had grown up not Catholic and now found ourselves as baptized, confirmed and Eucharized Catholics. For some, that meant adult baptism and the whole rest of the RCIA process, but for most of us, it meant that we had grown up as some version of Protestant and were now in full communion with Rome.
I have long joked that someday I would like to write a book about the effects Catholic converts have on contemporary theology. I have wondered whether and how our various Protestant backgrounds account for our various theological enterprises as Catholics. For example, if predestination was a seriously troubling theme as a Protestant, does it remain so post-conversion, only in Catholic guise? And if so, what does that guise look like? I have wondered about how much of a conversation gap exists between cradle Catholics and Catholic converts, the extent to which we believe we speak about the same things but do not. I have wanted to know how not having grown up with Catholic identity in particular ways (for example, the ways even my post-Vatican II cohort went to confession on Saturdays, or prayed the rosary as a family, or abstained from certain foods during Lent) affects my theological reflections.
Maybe some day I will figure out how to write such a book.
In the meantime, I want to write an occasional series of reflections on Catholic converts on this blog.
It’s not an openly discussed subject most of the time – more murmurings behind the scenes. Yet I suggest that currently Catholic “converts” are generally suspect in relation to many “cradle Catholics”. The presence of “converts” has a way of polarizing theological conversation into “us” versus “them”, dividing “real Catholics” from those who presumably aren’t real (and of course, who counts as a “real” Catholic is also a matter of debate). I have heard people complain that converts do not really understand Catholic theology because they bring Protestant habits with them about reading scripture, about discussing topics like God and that good old faith versus works debate; I have been privy to a few academic searches where people have discussed whether a convert would really be a good fit for a department; I have heard converts denounced as people who ruin the church because they are “more conservative” than the “real” Catholics. More positively, cradle Catholics have lamented that they didn’t get to make a “choice” like converts do, that they don’t know the scriptures as well as converts do, that they’re not as fired up about the faith, and perhaps most importantly, didn’t have a choice to make about their relationship with authority.
“Us” versus “them”. We name those dichotomies in other ways, too. It seems that more and more, lately, we seem polarized between the so-called “cafeteria Catholics” and the ones who are “more Catholic than the Pope”, between the “liberals” and conservatives”, between the ones who on some views shouldn’t even bother to call themselves Catholic and the ones who are supposedly “Catholic enough”. Abortion, homosexuality, and recent questions about what it means to be a capitalist and Catholic, in relation to Pope Francis’ apostolic exhortation all have been ways to polarize Catholics along specific lines, meaning – we tend to see ourselves as polarized on moral grounds.
If we were to name names, would divisions show up along convert/non-convert grounds? I suspect that at least for some issues, they would.
The “us” versus “them” raises serious questions for moral theologians in all areas: questions about identity in Christ, virtue and natural law, and social questions relating to how to deal truthfully with the social issues that so divide Catholics. So, when I focus here on Catholic converts and the problems “they” bring, I am also thinking more broadly of the “us” versus “them” tension that threatens to further divide Catholics from each other, because I think the questions about converts and the politics/election questions Catholics raised relate to each other. I think that how we relate to each other as convert/cradle may provide some inklings for how we might more deeply expose divisions that ought not to exist in Christ’s body.
What I want to do in this brief weekly series is discuss three “us” versus “them” questions that I think converts raise for Catholic theology. The first two questions I discuss are about Catholic identity and how that shapes moral questions; the third question is about decision making. I will conclude with a post naming some thoughts on the larger “us” versus “them” dichotomy.
For more on this, tune in next week. Until then, I want to pose a question my fellow bloggers and all our readers: what’s your thought on how Catholic converts influence contemporary Catholic theology?
Jana, thanks for starting this series…it’s a really important topic. I’m someone who has been a baptized Catholic for all but a few weeks of my life, but is married to a convert (probably best described as a convert from Judaism though he had a brief tour of Protestantism before his Catholic baptism). And we’re both theologians. I found it really helped my faith to know that he had an intellectual conversion based on a lot of historical (and scriptural) research. I think the belief in the “truth” of Catholicism is a gift that converts bring to theology, especially given that many converts (like my husband) made great personal sacrifices to embrace Catholicism.
Given the restrictions on the academic freedom of theologians prior to Vatican II, many of them eagerly accepted Protestant views in the 60s; some of these (like Markan priority) have now become almost regarded as “fact,” with little critical investigation. In my experience, another gift converts bring is to reexamine theological changes made rapidly during this time period and see if anything was lost that might still be useful. Because converts were not involved in the pain of the restriction of academic freedom inherited by cradle Catholic theologians, they often have detachment to evaluate more accurately certain issues.
But I think it is really hard to make generalizations about converts. I certainly know some who converted to Catholicism but whose true religion seems to be the Republican party, and this leads them to disagree with certain views in papal encyclicals. And I also have a friend who converted but only embraces the Latin Mass and seems to absolutize the Tridentine period as normative. On the other hand, I have benefited greatly from the theological work of many converts, including yourself and my husband!
Thanks — this is a great post. Looking back at the Byassee article, pieces on ‘evangelical Catholicism,’ the Coming Home Network and such, this is clearly a fruitful topic and a striking ongoing phenomenon. At times, ‘conversion’ is lumped together with ‘intentional discipleship’ or renewal of faith within the Church, say, at the parish level — hence the many links at diocesan webpages and the USCCB website on renewal and the ‘New Evangelization.’ This latter term seems to be both over-used and often narrowed to particular organizations and/or techniques, and in light of this it is interesting to note the kinds of institutions and parishes that are growing and flourishing, and those that are not. There is no one-size-fits-all form for re-new-al (as conversion, or as renewal itself): an ideal minimum is proposed by Ratzinger in 2000, in dialogue with Metz, namely, to live as though God not only exists, but is the “most present and decisive reality in each and every act of my life” (http://www.ewtn.com/new_evangelization/Ratzinger.htm). There is clearly great fear both within and without the Church (Catholic and visible) about statistics on attendance and fidelity to teachings, etc., as well as the very real phenomenon of Catholics leaving for more Evangelical-Bible churches, where the Word is preached and lived. I think this is relevant as a sociological context for the kind of discussion to which you refer. The mild form of Presbyterianism in which I was raised gradually over time softened most biblical language, eventually removed sacramental practices, decisively removed any mention of forgiveness and the need thereof, passed over the Creed, and in its last gasping was a kindly, aging community center. This just felt like the way things were going with ‘the world’, and to oppose it would have been radical in the extreme. Maybe part of the anxiety on all sides is the worry that there are only two ways to go, and one of them looks like that Presbyterian denomination.
In a discussion with a venerable theology professor and friend, I hear very moving words: you converts don’t know what it was like then, to be Catholic in the 50s, 60s and 70s, to feel the constriction, then the crazy total freedom, the weird stuff… you don’t understand!” What I do not understand is what it was like to grow up in a Catholic neighborhood, with the same pastor, with the Catholic school, the nuns, the clear question of Vocation at some point. And he is right. The interesting thing to me is that the experience of deracination, deculturation, is a universal American phenomenon in these last two generations. We know that small towns are emptying out. We are raised to go to college, as many of our parents did not; we are raised to have choices, to have freedom, to ‘go away’ (pace Berry). The defining experience of this generation is a loss of home: whether through parental divorce, the dissolving of church communities with nothing much to say any longer, or through a restless and constant moving, through a message to “do better… improve oneself.” When people today become Roman Catholic, there are likely a variety of reasons, but as a matter of psychology some may be looking for more than ‘correct doctrine.’ They may just be looking for home. To my professor friend I can only say, you are right, I don’t understand this family of yours, its culture and its ways — but if there is a place for me, can you welcome me in? For him, at least, the answer is ‘yes!’… but not without some anxiety. He worries that I see something different than he does.
A few thoughts/questions that might be of interest, from my discussions at this same conference.
1. It was proposed that one negative aspect of the teachings of JPII was (not the fact of addressing moral problems, but rather) the isolating of morality from other aspects of theological reflection and ecclesial life. Does this seem to you as a moral theologian to be a correct diagnosis of his pontificate? If so, how is this connected to increased numbers of converts to Catholicism? Has this precise issue affected the content or tone of academic theology?
2. It seems to me that the most unhappy converts are those fleeing from the problems in their original communities — hence they have largely negative motivations, and may be eager to see in the Church mostly an affirmation of their concerns (for example, the Anglican ordinariate with a preserved mostly-Cranmer liturgy). What do you think?
3. With regard to your specific question about influencing theologians/theology, I think the most complex locus here is biblical studies and the use of the Bible generally. As a Protestant, it was just normal for me to always have one with me, at least a pocket NT and Psalms… yes, nerdy. (Some seminaries are starting to require seminarians to have a Bible at all times and in all classes, eg. Sacred Heart in Detroit.) To begin to study the Bible in a historical-critical light was at first shocking (because new) and then fascinating, but it never would have occurred to me that this might shake up my faith. For cradle Catholics, I think sometimes that the allegiance to the latest scholarly research, and the aversion to biblical interpretation in the tradition, is part of a general trend of anxiety on the part of Catholics, the fruit of an excessive concern with what ‘people think.’ I am likely off in my interpretation of symptoms, but the diagnosis is right in some respect. Catholic academics seem to read Dei Verbum, and just pass over the strongest claims in it. Embarrassment? Do you agree?
4. Finally, as a convert I would say that it really is all about the Church — it is precisely not about ‘me’ at all. It is knowing who Jesus is, then living in the implications of this. The Church is simply so much bigger than my preferences, my theological opinions, and so on. Thus it is about those who are around me. The first and most important thing that I must do with these ‘other members’ is work, and pray: but are cradle Catholics suspicious of prayer, of ‘piety’? An interior life with Christ does not have to be an individualist principle opposed to ecclesial reality. There is good, statistical evidence that parishes that encourage prayer (among other things, of course, especially works of mercy) do a much better job of incorporating young people into parish life, and transitioning them to college and adult life in the Church. And yes this includes generous availability of Reconciliation, Adoration of the Eucharist, encouraging families to pray the Rosary, having Mass and festivals during the week when there are Solemnities, and so on. So my question is whether you think this is another topic on which there is an us/them divide? And if so, why? Do cradle Catholics fear a return to the old days (the bad part, not the good part)? Does an expressed love and/or thankfulness for the Church seem excessive somehow, or in bad taste?
Thank you again, and I look forward to your future posts!
Nietzsche observed that “in every party there is someone who, by his over-devout expression of party principles, provokes the rest to defect.” I avoid cradle Catholics and converts who are filled with the zealous conviction that their take on the truth should be shared by everyone else. Apologetics is often their favorite branch of theology.
Great topic: one I have been sensitive to since converting. After entering the Church, I placed myself under a four year ban on commenting in any depth on my new found growth in faith, especially to protestants. I clearly realized the lenses I look through may always be tainted protestant. Catholics, it seems are always eager to hear from me, but with protestants I want to be especially attentive to accurately conveying the Catholic faith so as not to misrepresent.
I don’t wish to undermine or derail your discussion, but I want to clarify my previous comment.
I live in a diocese that has changed dramatically over the past 15 years. Guest speakers at diocesan and parish programs are narrowly vetted for “orthodoxy.” Those who’ve appeared on EWTN, or have some association with a college or university that passes muster with the Cardinal Newman Society, or have the correct episcopal endorsements, or have converted to Catholicism, or can sing the praises of Theology of the Body, seem to have a leg up. Their message tends to have this undercurrent: “Many of you have been poorly evangelized and catechized; your faith is lukewarm; you’ve traded your birthright for a mess of pottage. Let me show you the truth you’ve strayed from or never fully appreciated.”
About 10 years ago, Richard Gaillardetz published an article in America magazine, calling for an apologetics that better reflects the spirit of Vatican II: http://americamagazine.org/issue/469/article/do-we-need-newer-apologetics. His recommendations should be taken to heart by everyone engaged in “new evangelization.”
Hi Jana, It was great to meet you a few weeks back. I read this with interest, since we had chatted briefly about this. Sorry I’m late to the party, just commenting on this first post after the second is already published. I guess the part of the conversation I’d like to add is the suspicion, not of “cradles” toward “converts,” since you’ve already spoken about this, but of “converts” toward “cradles.” That may be tough for you to speak to, since you’re coming at this from the other side, but, as a ‘cradle Catholic’ who ends up in a room full of “converts” a lot, I’ve heard this more than once. It seems the suspicion is quite mutual. And I for one didn’t have a great Catholic upbringing, but it’s not from the oft-repeated “bad old days” of the 50s and 60s, but from the confusion and laxity and mediocrity that was the 70s. What Robert Barron calls “beige Catholicism.” That’s the Catholic world I grew up in, and I hit my teenage years, as my faith was springing to life, feeling the need to educate myself in my Catholic faith all over again, since so much had been lost. Anyway, it does seem to me that there are several different kinds of “cradles” out there, too, and the suspicion I encounter from converts strikes me as unfair, with many assumptions that don’t seem to describe me at all. More to be said, but I wanted to toss this into the conversation.
I thank you too, Jana, for launching this discussion. I’ll contribute with a story. I owe part of my being an academic theologian to the Rev. Dr. Richard Cipolla. He is a priest of the Diocese of Bridgeport, a convert from the Episcopal Church who was one of the very first Episcopal priests who became a Catholic priest under the pastoral provision implemented by John Paul II. He was one of John Macquarrie’s students at Oxford, holding a DPhil in theology. He also holds a Ph.D. in physics from the University of Rhode Island. And, he is married with two grown children. How he wound up at Fairfield Prep was due to the great personal price he paid for converting, both before and after he joined the Church. Being a married priest, he was treated like a second-class citizen at times by his brother diocesan priests. He was not very welcome in Catholic higher education circles for his theological views (this was the 1980s and he liked Balthasar). So, to pay the bills he joined the Prep faculty. However, he was a fine teacher and laid the path where theology was intellectually interesting, and what the Catholic Church believes matters, and that there is a reasoning behind it that should be read, analyzed, and understood. He came from the Anglo-Catholic wing of the Episcopal Church, and had thought through the issues leading to his conversion, so he’d identity Protestant habits of faith for what they are, and either praised or critiqued them. I’d say my first close relationship with a convert to the Catholic Church was a very good one.