All roads lead to Rome, unless there is
an ocean in the way or some such thing. However, as we pass through
the waters of baptism, perhaps we can cross an ocean or two. With
God all things are possible, eh?
You see, we are all in a mess. We have
sinned, you see, every last one of us. Through my fault, through my
fault, through my most grievous fault. We have rejected the good,
embraced the evil, and wandered down the path of destruction.
However, God, by His grace, sent us His Son, Jesus Christ, to die on
our behalf. He conquered death, obtained forgiveness for our sins,
and opened the way to Heaven.
We are all free to reject this,
however, and most of us do, at least at one time or another. Our way
seems best, even it takes us through the brambles and stinging
nettles, through ditches filled with festering decay and filth, and
down through the darkest places below, where there is no light and no
hope.
And yet, the path is there, narrow
though it may be. Angels guard it, carrying out their unceasing
watch in a war as old as time itself. All who seek after God will
walk it, step after step, until they stand before the very gates of
Heaven.
Those who stay upon the path are safe,
whatever may befall their physical bodies in this shadow world we
call our home. However, to step to the left or the right is so easy,
and there are ever those who would lure us to our doom.
“Come, join us,” they say, grasping
with skeletal hands. “The path is hard beneath your feet, and the
road is long. Rest with us in the wood, where there is no striving
or struggle. Give up the fight.”
For those who stagger off the road and
wander into blackest night, some will never be seen again. Some, by
God's grace, will make their way back to the path, though only after
great pain.
Making it back to the path is not easy,
particularly when there are so many guides who insist the straight,
paved road is not the path at all. “No, no, good sir,” they say.
“The true path is supposed to go through this swamp, you see. The
scaly beasts who dragged off Simmons there were probably just
inviting him to tea.”
And, of course, many of these guides
are quite sincere. They have a guidebook, or part of it, anyway, and
they think they have interpreted the way out of the dark forest.
Unfortunately, the guidebook was never meant to stand on its own.
There were additional instructions and warnings passed down from the
master guides of the past, along with the proper interpretation of
the more confusing portions of the guidebook. This knowledge is
still held by those who patrol the narrow road. However, the
independent and often self-appointed guides who wander the forest
depths believe those on the road are lost, their authority
illegitimate.
Sometimes, in the midst of wading
through the muck, or hacking through walls of thorns, some will look
in the distance and see the road, its straight and unbroken length
lit by torches and candles. Often, the sound of singing can be
heard, or perhaps a slight whiff of incense will drift over on the
breeze. These travelers may pause and say, “Look, nothing against
you lot. I mean, it's clear you're doing your best and you think
you're going the right way, but it's pretty obvious that we're
heading deeper into the blasted swamp.” Then, with fond
farewells, these travelers head for the road, though many trials may
still await them before they reach it.
To move away from the metaphor and say
it clearly, my family is preparing to enter the Catholic Church.
After visiting several Catholic churches this summer, we have started
the RCIA program, or Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, with
the goal of entering the Church this coming Easter. I actually used
the path analogy in a recent class, saying that I believed I had been
looking at the path for some time, and was now finally on it.
It's difficult not to shake people up a
bit when proposing the idea of conversion. Even Allison was
resistant at first. After all, no matter how polite one tries to be,
one is, in a sense, saying, “There is something fundamentally
flawed about the beliefs I used to hold, and which you still hold.
In order to do the will of God, I must change and move.” So, I do
understand why some people might not understand, or why they might
even be upset.
What I found, in my own journey, is
that I could not remain a Protestant. The longer I remained where I
was, the more uncomfortable I became. I didn't agree with the
distinctive Protestant beliefs. I didn't believe in salvation by
faith alone, I didn't believe in sola scriptura,
I didn't believe in a purely symbolic baptism, and I was not content
with a symbolic Eucharist. I did agree with all that the Catholic
and Orthodox Churches held in common, even if I was not always sure I
knew where I stood in the areas where they disagreed.
I feared dying
while still a Protestant, and then standing before God and saying,
“Well, I couldn't decide, you see, so like the servant with the one
talent, I did nothing at all.” It didn't end well for that guy, if
you remember.
Even today, I'm
still only about 80% sure I should be Catholic, but that will work
for now. Part of the purpose of the RCIA program is to help people
ensure they are making the correct decision. For the rest, I'd say
I'm 15% sure I should be Orthodox, and 5% sure I should sleep in on
Sunday morning and forget the whole theological mess. Still, even if
I'm not yet at 100%, I would still rather die as a Catholic than as
anything else. I'm not sure where the truth lies in all these
debates between Christians, but Christ did say to Peter that on this
rock He would build His Church and the gates of Hades would not
overcome it.
The Catholic Church
of reality does not always line up to the Catholic Church of the
Protestant imagination. When I thought of the Catholic Church while
growing up, I imagined stone cathedrals, Latin chant, incense, and
nuns in habits. I have had to adjust the picture a bit, though those
other aspects are still there, if one knows where to find them. A
great deal has changed in the past forty years or so, and not all of
it for the good.
The other day, we
participated in a tour of St. Patrick's, in Tacoma. We were told how
after Vatican II, the church was instructed to install a new simpler
altar and abandon the use of the old. However, the old high altar
was too large to move, and so it stands, a reminder of things past
and perhaps a sign of things to come again.
All of this seems
to move in cycles, anyway. One generation decides the church
buildings are too ornate and an offense to the poor, so the
decorations are stripped. Another finds that reverence is lacking
and people have lost a sense of the majesty of God, so the
decorations return.
Where do we want to
raise our children, and where do we hope they will raise their
children? The average Evangelical Protestant church is likely more
full of sincere Christian believers than is the average Catholic
church. However, the same could have been said of the Protestant
mainline churches a few generations ago, and where are they now? I
am far more confident that the Catholic Church will still be teaching
the faith one hundred years from now, than I am about any Protestant
denomination. Of course, as I said above, I don't agree with the
distinctive Protestant beliefs. Therefore, I don't think
Protestantism is really teaching the faith now.
So, on we go,
following the liturgical year of the Church. The Advent season still
awaits, followed by Christmas, another slice of ordinary time, Lent,
and finally Holy Week. There is still a long journey just to enter
the Church, and then the journey will continue, moving down the road
of this life. May we stay true and stay on the path.
God bless you all.
