Back to School--for a degree in Theology

A few people have asked me how it's possible that at the age of fifty, I could become active in religion, especially in Catholicism?

It's not an easy question to answer; and while my story isn't particularly complex, it is long.

So to simplify it somewhat, let me answer that it is a combination of events, big and small, that have left me with no doubt.

All my life I have been on a path to some sort of faith--starting with the rather wishy-washiness of Methodism, the emptiness of various philosophies (which I'll admit I didn't study closely because none that I encountered ever held up in even the dimmest light of my observed reality), and the dry ice of atheism.

For me, there was always something missing--something that at the core could speak to both my sense of the immediate and the eternal--without treating me like an idiot (for lack of a better term).

(As an aside, a former co-worker was a fan of a particular TV preacher, and in an attempt to convert me she gave me transcripts of several of his sermons. I read them carefully, and in all honesty, I couldn't figure out what the hell he was talking about. He seemed to take some scriptural passage and wrap some vague message around it--in a way that was neither informative, inspirational, or to my mind, even remotely related to the meaning of the text, like thinking the story of the Prodigal Son was a divine endorsement of eating veal.)

When I married a Catholic girl, it opened a door to a real majesty of faith. Not just in the grandeur of Catholic churches or the solemnity of the Mass, but in the greatest kind of majesty, the sort that shines from certain individuals. In this case, the best example was my mother-in-law, a woman who had endured unspeakable horrors (made a slave-laborer by the Nazis, later married and had 12 children, and survived traumas the likes of which would crush most other people I know). Her faith never wavered despite all that happened to her. It caused me to wonder what sort of religion could instill such courage and loyalty.

Over the years of my marriage (12 and counting), I learned a little more about Catholicism, but nothing really made a serious impression on me until I read a book by Pope Benedict XVI. I had read a couple of books by JPII, and they convinced me of his piety and greatness as a man, but I never saw how that could reach me personally.

But reading "God and the World" changed my life. When I first picked it up, I expected a rather dour glimpse of a stern, dogmatic German, about as lively and engaging as a hike through Death Valley. However...I could not have been more wrong. From the very first, I was riveted by the man's intellect, candor, wisdom, insights, and above all, his abiding faith.

For the first time, I saw how a person could be both devout and a lively intellectual. (Well-educated Catholics will laugh at my naivete, but I had been raised with the typical secular view of Catholicism as repressive, medieval, and anti-intellectual.) To say that this piqued my curiosity is a vast understatement; I felt as though I had tripped over the entrance to a spiritual treasure trove.

Since reading "God and the World" in November of 2008, I have probably read fifty or sixty books on Catholicism, each one of them filling in piece of a huge, complex jigsaw puzzle. I have started attending Mass weekly, joined the Knights of Columbus, am in process of becoming confirmed, and am starting classes towards a degree in Catholic Theology.

I'm not sure where this will lead--but I am trusting to God that it will work out. (And many, many thanks to my wife for her support in this endeavor. It's not easy to have your spouse become a "religious nut" to the point of pursuing Theology as a vocation.)

I'll keep you posted.