Much of the joy of being a practicing Catholic is derived from the family-oriented nature of the Church. When children are brought into the world, the whole extended family rejoices and shares in the special day of baptism. First Holy Communion and confirmation are family events commemorated with photos and presents. But for converts, these special days are sometimes the most painful.
When I decided to enter the Church two years ago, I was surprised that my Protestant sister and her husband did not share my joy. Throughout the year-long process of the RCIA program, my classmates and I began to share our most hidden fears about becoming Catholic. As the Easter Vigil drew near, anxiety began to build in many of our hearts. Would our families be angry with us? Would they become even more distant after Easter?
I looked forward to my baptism for a full year. Not being a person who easily understands subtleties, I was oblivious to the hints dropped by my relatives that they were not pleased about my recent conversion experience. I thought they would be overjoyed that I had finally turned my heart to Christianity after years of dabbling in Eastern mysticism and New Age philosophies.
As time went on, I began to realize that certain people in my family were very worried about my salvation. Polite invitations to Bible studies at their Fundamentalist church became more insistent, finally taking on a desperate tone. On several occasions my brother-in-law asked me, “When are you going to start going to a Bible-believing Church?”
“St. Joe’s is a Bible-believing church!” was my answer, of course.
During that year, I visited my sister’s church to witness their newest daughter’s “dedication” to God. I went to their picnics and fundraisers. In spite of the fact that they really love the Lord Jesus Christ with all of their hearts, they could not bring themselves to accept what I was becoming – a Roman Catholic.
I devoted myself to study. I poured over my Bible, literally wearing out two copies that year. I spent hours and hours reading Catholicism and Fundamentalism, and I prayed that my family would understand me. I was working so hard to justify my faith and to earn their respect.
They did not bother to come to my baptism and confirmation. Although many close friends showed up, I still felt empty without my sister’s family.
The pain of missing them on that important night grew into an ugly resentment that was exacerbated with every challenging comment, every out-of-place suggestion that I leave the Church.
Mutual Commiseration Society
My mother had converted to Catholicism two years earlier, and we spent many hours commiserating together. Family gatherings and holiday meals were becoming very tense occasions.
A few months ago my mother bought a new home, where she plans to spend her retirement. We set a tentative date for a house- blessing, and once again we invited my sister and her family. Explaining the rite in Protestant terms, we described it as a time of prayer for blessings from the Lord. Once again, no success.
It seemed logical to my sister’s family that we should be obliged to attend their church activities, pray with them, congratulate them after their church ceremonies. . . but our invitations and rejoicing were met with replies that showed obvious grief over the loss of our souls.
A painful time of separation followed. It seems that our family had become divided into two factions, and we could hardly tolerate each other’s presence. I cried frequently. I became severely depressed at Mass. I longed to be able to join in prayer with the people I cared so much about.
Finally I realized that the Lord would be my only solace, so gradually I turned to him. I cried out in the night, begging for his answers to my problem, begging him to send the Holy Spirit to guide my sister and her family back to me, and God answered my prayer through his Word.
I cried to him out loud, repeating the words of Psalm 3: “O Lord, how many are my adversaries! Many rise up against me! Many are saying of me, ‘there is no salvation for him in God.’ ” I comforted myself with the words of the Beatitudes, “Blest are those persecuted for holiness’ sake; the reign of God is theirs. Blest are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of slander against you because of me. Be glad and rejoice for your reward is great in heaven; they persecuted the prophets before you in the same way” (Matt. 5:10-12).
I sought the face of God, hoping to find his will in my situation, and identified with the words of Jesus, “Do not suppose that my mission on earth is to spread peace. My mission is to spread not peace, but division. I have come to set a man at odds with his father, a daughter with her mother, and a daughter- in-law with her mother-in-law: in short, to make a man’s enemies those of his own household” (Matt. 10:34-36).
Why Converts Suffer
Slowly, I began to realize that the Lord is sovereign over this world. He allows us to suffer for a reason, and he knows that misunderstandings will occur. Perhaps he allows us to be persecuted so that our faith will be enlivened or so that we will be inspired to continue to grow and learn.
Step by step, I have been learning to let go of the resentments that I had been harboring against my relatives. Somehow their unwillingness to listen to my biblical answers does not hurt as much anymore, and the bitterness that I once felt is being transformed into an even deeper love for them.
I still study apologetics with great zeal. I continue to believe that we should be ready to defend our faith at all times. My heart longs deeply to be united with our Christian brethren…but the Lord has healed me of the anger, and I have learned to let go and let God.