We can’t help ourselves: Why a former Jewish agnostic and current progressive Christian still like Catholicism

Many of you may know Eve Tushnet from her blog here on Patheos, where she writes about being gay, celibate, and Catholic (along

with World Figure Skating Championship costumes and other events of note). Eve grew up “somewhere between agnostic and Jewish” and converted to Catholicism when she was a sophomore in college. I did the inverse: I was raised firmly Catholic and started drifting away from “the Church” in college, when I just couldn’t stomach my church’s position on women priests and gay marriage, among other things, and eventually ended up at a social-justice-oriented spiritual

community.

I thought it would be fun to talk about why, despite our seemingly large hurdles (background, political beliefs, sexuality), we still really like the Catholic Church. (Even though my new church is Methodist, I still say that I was “raised Catholic.”) And a bit about why, even though we like it, it occasionally drives/drove us crazy. I’ll be posting our conversation in installments over the next few days. Please chime in in the comments about what you love/hate about Catholicism–no complaint/praise too large or too small!

Alicia: Ok, so here goes: I read a bit about your conversion story in Gay and Catholic, but I wonder if you could tell me about some of the  specifically Catholic things that drew you to this church, either concrete or abstract? What was it about Catholicism in particular that drew you in? Eve: Ha, I don’t know if I *do* like Catholicism. I believe it and I love the Church, but… love is different from liking. Harder. But as to your specific question about things which drew me to Catholicism: Ah, there’s so much! I was initially attracted by the Crucifixion, and especially by the promise that on the Cross Jesus reconciled justice and mercy. Also by the Catholic insistence on the goodness of the created world and the created body. The sensuality of Catholic worship, the “smells and bells,” really spoke to me. I love the ways we use our bodies in worship to indicate surrender: kneeling, genuflecting, bowing, kissing the Cross. I realize “surrender” is only one possible metaphor for talking about our relationship to God, but it’s one which really speaks to me, and I can’t help longing for some of the signs of surrender which we’ve largely abandoned, like the communion rail. The Eucharist was also huge in my conversion. It brings together the lurid violence of the Gospels–which imo is what makes them believable as an account of how God might respond to the luridly violent world we live in–and the Church’s honor for the created world. Bread and wine become God’s tortured flesh. We unite with God not just in our minds or even just in our souls, but also in our bodies. So the “real presence,” transubstantiation, was and is a very big deal to me. There are various other adornments of the Church which I love–St Francis, St Aelred, Caravaggio, “The

Imitation of Christ,” the Anima Christi, Oscar Wilde, Corpus Christi processions. Plus stuff we stole from other people like “Amazing Grace.” (I think my ideal Mass, which I will probably never get to celebrate, would be ad orientem Novus Ordo Latin Mass with a communion rail and “Amazing Grace” as the processional. Maybe “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent” as recessional. And the Kiss of Peace instead of, like, the handshake of peace, why do we do that.) Your turn…. Alicia: It’s funny that you mention transubstantiation, because I always point to that as something I see as a silly difference between churches. When I learned in CCD (Catholic catechism) that we were eating the actual body of Christ, I thought, “That’s cool.” I still don’t know if I really believe that transubstantiation is possible–but I remember that as a kid, I was all in. It’s interesting to hear that someone was actually attracted to this idea as a young adult.

The things that I miss about Catholicism now are the rituals associated with specific parts of the Mass, like the sign of the cross and bowing at certain times. My church did neither smells nor bells–the few times we had incense, I found the smoke unpleasant (what can I say, I was a sensitive child). But I liked the insider knowledge I had about all these little motions that symbolized both my respect for the moment commemorated in prayer (like bowing when you say “God came down from heaven” in the Nicene Creed) and my own membership to this group; other Christians don’t bow or kneel at all. I liked being different. I realize that’s a pretty egocentric reason to like Catholicism, but there you have it. I liked being a member of a slightly-mysterious-to-others club. Another thing that I really appreciated about Mass was that it made no pretenses about being the same every. single. time. I could go to Mass in any city of my choosing and know that the service would be exactly the same (perhaps with extra bells). It was comforting, but it was also an aspect of faith that I thought was lost in other churches that tried to “mix things up” by having different music, a different order of service, or “no” order (usually with a focus on the message). I thought the sameness embodied the constancy of God and Catholicism, and that it was up to me to stay engaged with the ritual or to allow my mind to wander. Both were productive uses of my worship time. I still think that, and I sometimes miss the time to reflect while going through the routine of Mass. Finally, the thing I like and miss most about Catholicism is its communion of saints. I believe in praying to the saints and I feel like some saints watch out for me. (I have total confidence that St. Lucy has helped me find things.) If I were

to reveal my propensity to pray to saints to my Protestant friends, I’m pretty sure they would look at me sideways and question my belief in a single God. I think Catholicism has more room for holy beings (angels, for example) than other types of Christianity, and it’s fun and interesting. Also, it makes for way better church names: Our Lady of the ___, St. John the Divine, and St. Anything just roll off the tongue. Stay tuned! Up next: What we don’t love about Catholicism.