God’s Voice in the Soul A Convert’s Story New York THE PAULIST PRESS 401 West 59th Street God’s Voice in the Soul A CONVERT’S STORY New York THE PAULIST PRESS 401 West 59th Street Copyright, 1915, by “ The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State of New York.’’ God’s Voice in the Soul A Convert's Story . My Dear Friend: You have asked me why I became a Catholic. If you were to ask how I became a Catholic, it were, possibly, more easily answered. Also, if you mean what prompted me to think of the Catholic Church, the Catholic form of worship, the Catholic doctrines' and teachings of religion, then I answer : only heaven knows ; I certainly do not. To you, who knew my Christian mother, I need not point out the fact that I was raised in a God-fearing household. My parents were staunch Protestants, Methodists ; my father a sincere Bible student and teacher. I was accustomed from childhood to attend at church, Sunday-school, prayer-meeting, etc. I distinctly remember joining the church and professing “ conver- sion/’ But in all the years following, there was very little in religion as I experienced it, for me to cling 1o, very little to cheer or uplift or even to attract. I cannot describe the “ unsatisfied ” effect it produced. Then, as you know, I left my home town and came here to the hospital for a course in nursing. Gradually, while here, I gave up going to church. As I was obliged to be on duty all of Sunday morning, there was no chance for attendance at church until evening, when one felt that one must rest or die. Dear friend, it was one night while on duty, that the thought came to my mind (and to my annoyance, per- 4 God's Voice in the Soul sisted) : “ What have you done with your life, and what will be the end for. you? Why do you not see a minister and talk with him? Remember your registered vow to meet your mother in a better world.” And suddenly, in a manner I can never explain — for to me there was no explanation — the thought, the idea, the very presence, of the Catholic Church made itself known to my con- sciousness. I stood appalled. I, who had never allowed a favorable thought of Catholicism to enter my mind, why should I be haunted with this suggestion at this time? In one of the most beautiful of Canada's fair cities, lives a very dear friend. Her name immediately occurred to me as that of one to whom I could turn and hope for help. She, herself, is a devout Catholic, of the whole- some “ sunshine ” type, her heart at once wrapped up in her home and in her Church. I determined at once to visit her, and seek in her life the key to her joy and seemingly perfect peace of mind and heart. As you know, I went and remained with her one month. Instead of talking openly and revealing to her my great need, I silently watched the lives of that happy household. I lived in an atmosphere of Catholic religion, practised in all its beauty and joyousness of spirit every hour of the day. They may never know how their words and actions for that one month affected my life. I might mention one little circumstance of this visit. As my friend and her little daughters were about to leave the house one day, she turned to me and said, a We are going to the church. You would not care anything about it, as we are going to confession. So I will not ask you to accompany us.” God's Voice in the Soul 5 “Confession! Tell me, how can you ever do this? Why do you go to a priest and tell him of all your sins? ” Very patiently she explained to me that the confession was made to the Saviour of the world ; not to the man or priest, but to ^Christ through His representative. I decided to keep quiet concerning anything further, for that one idea alone caused me to lose more than a little sleep in trying to solve the problem which so vexed me. During my entire stay in their home, I failed to enter the door of any church. Long habit had its way. I had no desire for the Protestant faith ; neither had I, as yet, the courage to visit a Catholic Church. To my knowledge, I had attended a Catholic service (the Mass) only twice in my life before this. You can imagine how my non-attendance at church ap- peared to devout Catholics. I remember the last even- ing I was to spend with them. While out walking we passed a newly-erected building, my friend remarking, “ A Presbyterian church. You will have no excuse for not going to church the next time you visit us, this is so near home.” I replied, “ I believe you are shocked because I do not go to church.” “ Yes, I am ! ” so quietly spoken, yet having all the force of a blow which did not fail of its mark. Never from that instant did I know what quietness of mind meant. I was worried, racked, tormented, as never in the course of my existence. I think now, as I look back, that God himself spoke to me, for the sound of the words, simple though they were, arrested my footsteps, and I scarcely had strength to proceed as though nothing un- 6 God's Voice in the Soul usual had happened. I remember a swift, sharp view of my life seemed given to me, just for one instant. Then it faded, but not so the remembrance. As I left town the next day on my way to New York, everything along the way seemed to add to the conflict in my mind. Every throb and beat of the mighty engine cried aloud, “ Why don’t you give up this struggle and become a Catholic ? ” and the cry was echoed in the grind and pound of the wheels. Oh, that trip home ! As we swept past pleasant, busy towns or along the bank of an eddying river, or threaded our way among the giant hills — shall I ever forget the cry which came from my soul. “ Oh, my mother’s God, do not leave me alone in this black darkness ! ” I never told you how, when I reached home, I took pen and paper and poured out my heart’s bitter, bitter loneli- ness to this same friend to whom I had waved a last good-bye a few short hours before. I simply asked her to help me in any way she could, for things were becom- ing more “ mixed-up ” all the time. She did not fail me. To be brief, I took her advice and went to see a priest — yes, I, even I, who had never exchanged a word with a Catholic priest in all my life. Be sure, I delayed this visit as long as I could ; but one day I left home with a very determined air, and the firm intention of applying to one of the Paulist Fathers for advice and help. It had become almost a daily habit with me, after my return to town, to visit one or other of the Catholic churches. And daily it became more perplexing to ac- count for the peculiar atmosphere pervading these churches, so different from that of any Protestant church which I had ever seen. I did not know then that the God's Voice in the Soul 7 reason existed behind that little Tabernacle door in the divine presence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament; the eloquence of His silence, His truth and sweetness pene- trating to the farthermost corners of that vast, sacred edifice. When I reached the church, the intention I spoke of was still alive, but the air of assurance had, somehow, vanished. Did I ever tell you that I walked past the door just four times? I struggled against entering the office, even when I knew I must. By the time I had entered and asked for a priest — “ Anyone at all, I don’t care who he is ”■ — the nervous tension was at its height. While waiting, I glanced idly around at the faces of others, who, like myself, wished for a word with the priest. Be assured I was not attracted by what I saw. I cannot give you any idea of the repulsion with which these people inspired me. I could not bring myself to be seated in their midst. I remember that when the priest entered the room, he found me standing. There they sat, unkempt, poorly-clad, altogether most distressing-looking creatures. Immediately, the ever- ready Protestant view presented itself: “ Poor dupes! ready to believe anything their priests may place before their minds. Mere tools of their Church. Oh ! why did I ever enter this place ? ” May heaven forgive the merciless, egotistical pride of which I was guilty at that moment. Did I not insult the King of kings, the meek and lowly Christ, Who, perhaps at that instant, was shining forth in beauty in the soul of the poorest and most apparently ignorant person there. I almost decided to leave the building; there certainly was nothing in all this for me. These people might fol- God's Voice in the Soul low religion in their own way; it was not and never could be my way. I was recalled to myself by the presence of a young priest bowing and asking me to “ kindly step this way.” I followed him into a reception-room and, after telling him how entirely I was a stranger to his Church, I sud- denly found myself sobbing out my story. I can almost hear you ask : “ And even after this, how could you, for one moment, accept the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church ? ” You are surprised, of course; what more natural? I may say that never in my life had I actually known any one doctrine of this Church. I had always disliked in- tensely anything even supposedly Catholic. I had never been told anything in favor of Catholics. I was entirely ignorant of their beliefs and practices, with the one ex- ception : confession. But I very quickly found that I had gone to the right place for help, for, during my many talks with this min- ister of God, to me was gradually unfolded the religion of the Gospel in all its simple truth and beauty. How very plainly it all appeared to me: the Catholic Church, the Church established by Christ Himself when on earth. Once I saw this, I was persuaded there was nothing more to be said. But oh ! the way was weary and long and very dark before I found the light. I am not going to weary you with a long dissertation upon the different Catholic doc- trines. The conclusion of my instructions was this, as I have already stated, viz. : the Catholic Church is the representative Church of Christ. Let me, however, give you my chief difficulties. These were confession, inter- God's Y'oice in the Soul 9 cession, and the honor shown by Catholics to the Mother of Christ. Well do I remember how very obstinate I was, but I acted sincerely. My instructor pointed out the reason why the Church taught and practiced confession, quoting this text : “ Whatsoever you shall bind upon earth, shall be bound also in heaven, and whatsoever you shall loose upon earth, shall be loosed also in heaven ” (Matt, xviii. 18). Again: “ Whose sins you shall forgive, they are for- given them ; and whose sins you shall retain, they are re- tained " (John xx. 23). I actually hated the idea. Had it meant pain and sudden death, it could not have repelled me more. I tried my best to make the priest see the tremendous error by which he was deluded, but somehow he did not ap- pear convinced. Then, when he had almost given up, he had the happy idea of placing before me a number of non-Catholic commentaries to show me their interpreta- tion of the same texts. I read the explanations and could only gasp, “ Why, they don't explain it at all ; they are all confused." “ If you can give me any other explanation of this text, 'Whose sins, '.etc., than that of the Church, I wish you would do so," he replied. I wished I could, too, you may be sure, but I could not, I cannot describe my struggle. How I was driven to and fro by the thought of kneeling at the side of a priest and revealing to him the secrets of my soul! If only I could be a Catholic without this practice! I feel sure that I can safely state that my idea of confession was identical with your own. But since conversion I have lost this dread of which I 10 God's Voice in the Soul speak, and now I experience that which only one who lives a Catholic life can know — the comfort and strength which come to the soul in confession. My state of mind was by now almost indescribable, not to say unendurable. I could not sleep; I could scarcely eat. I was possessed by the one thought day and night: if the priest is right in his assertion that the Catholic Church is the one true Church, then I must become a Catholic or forever remain outside the Church of God. But how, in heaven’s name, can I do this thing? What will people say? My friends will shun me as they would the plague. And my own people! Oh! it is quite im- possible ; I may as well give up. However, I will go back just once more, but only once! I went and my message to the priest that day was this : “ I am not coming again. I shall be like the young man who went away sorrowful. I, too, am sorrowful, but it does not prevent my failure to enter your Church.” It was here that the priest asked me to take pen and paper when I reached home and write down under this headline : “ My reasons for not becoming a Catholic,” one after another, whatever objections I might have. I could not refuse this simple request. But was I ever more surprised in my life! Instead of the easy little task I thought, I found myself facing an impossibility. I could not, in all truth and sincerity, give any one good, sound reason for my act. How could I face this fact and deliberately remain away from instruction? So a few days later found me in my old place making the as- tounding statement : “ I am not a Catholic, but there are no reasons to be found why I am not.” God's Voice in the Soul ii And still I continued under instruction. Throughout these weeks I could not but note the willingness, the gentleness and patience with which this priest met my often irritating and senseless remarks and objections. But he guided me step by step past all those rough places, until at last the path lay plain to view. For all this my troubles were not yet over. My gen- eral attitude towards Catholicism did not change. I still viewed with disfavor that which I had always been taught was opposed to true Christianity. I know now that I am only inviting the criticism that my statements are quite irreconcilable, when I assert that I felt the greatest yearning to be able to believe, while all the time regarding the Church with suspicion and distrust. But gradually all this gave way before my instructor's resolute and capable teaching. Then followed a distrust of myself : “If all this is so, why don’t I feel it. Why am I not sensible of these doctrines? I must experience them. Surely there should be a certain sense of joy with this?” I think you know that my immediate family consisted of an elder brother and myself. It would take too long to go into the surprise and absolute incredulity of this brother when he learned my state of mind. To my assertion that I had read a number of Catholic works, he gently bade me “ get that idea out of my head as quickly as possible.” But I could not rest until he knew all about my struggle, so at last I unburdened my heart to him. He replied: “ I am afraid you will not receive from it all that you expect. But i* you will be happier or obtain any joy through being a Catholic, then go ahead. But I 12 God's Voice in the Soul must tell you there is one teaching of the Catholic Church which you or I could never accept as true. It is the doctrine of the Eucharist. That is all very well for Catholics who have always been such : they are sincere in their belief. But for you and I who have known differently, any such doctrine could not be acceptable for one moment. You may think you believe it; you may even say in your heart, ‘I do believe/ but your head will never ratify the agreement.” I left him with my heart just aching. What if he were right, and I should suddenly find I had been mistaken in my belief? Oh, better to never have become a Catholic at all ! I received my answer from my director in most convincing terms : “ Then the Church, sorrowfully but emphatically, would be the first to ask you to leave her fold/’ I wanted to become a Catholic, but hesitated to take the final step. And I cannot tell you, nor did my instructor realize, how I yearned for the blessing of baptism. And yet in the face of this fact, I persisted in postponing the reception of this sacrament. As I re- view those days of worry, my procrastination seems nothing short of incredible. Never shall I forget the night following the conversa- tion with my brother. My agony of mind and soul for- bade all thought of rest. My Gethsemane was reached. Dawn found me no nearer a decision than before. Then it was I sought the priest a second time of my own volition, and again God spoke through His minister: “ Do not sin against this grace, for certainly it is such and certainly it has been given to you. Every day that you put off that which I am convinced you feel to be your duty, you are trifling with grace.” God's Voice in the Soul 13 For answer I rose and made my way towards the door as best I could, the state of my mind almost depriving me of my senses, certainly hiding from me my rudeness in acting as I did. Then, one last pleading question on the part of this man of God, who was striving so hard to save my soul, “ Won't you be baptized to-morrow? ” “Oh! I cannot; do not ask me. Perhaps after Easter but not now, oh, not now ! " Now mind, this was in October. I reached home, convinced, if not determined, that I would not visit the office again. No, my mind was made up now. I had certainly enjoyed the “ lectures/' but it was not for me — this great and beautiful possession called religion. Perhaps some day my mind would be- come normal again, and I would once more command my life to my own satisfaction. “ And then," whispered conscience, “ what after this life? " The old cry, what have you done with your life? But the end was not yet. When the morning's mail brought me another invitation for baptism, with this addition : “ I shall remain at home for some answer from you," I resolved to deliver my reply in person. It was then that the priest made one final almost despairing effort to gain my consent to baptism. Being obliged to leave town he begged of me to be baptized before he left. Even as he spoke, I dared delay no longer; and then very quietly and very quickly I was made one of that vast family of God. There was no great joy, no won- derful sense of exultation of spirit; but like a well- known Catholic convert whose name will live through all the ages as a synonym for devotion to God and to God's Voice in the Soul H His Church, I did what appeared to me to be my im- mediate duty. And now, my friend, have I answered you? You have read of how I became a Catholic but, I must repeat, why I do not know. However, lest you misunderstand me, I will say that the intellect alone cannot give a satisfactory explanation. For instance, can you explain why, as I sat one night at my desk, calmly pursuing my usual duties, in an instant of time, no longer than it takes the lightning to flash its vivid trail across an inky sky, I should experience any- thing so disturbing as the perplexing question of my soul’s salvation? You may answer that very probably a recent deathbed scene in the hospital had suggested the idea. I reply, no, my duties do not take me among the patients. Nor, in this institution, owned and controlled by a Hebrew directorate, are there any religious emblems to meet the eye. The practice of the Christian religion among the patients is almost unknown, the great majority being Jewish. The same faith prevails among the doc- tors and a number of the nurses. Again, why should I, who, so far from having enter- tained any kindly feelings towards Catholicism, had al- ways looked upon that Church with suspicion and even re- pulsion ; who never in my life had spoken with a Catholic clergyman ; who knew nothing of Catholic doctrines and practices — why should I, I ask, absorbed in my duties as usual, have thrust upon me the very presence of the Catholic Church? To it all, from the standpoint of pure reasoning, I cannot give an answer. But away and beyond all intellectual speculation, comes God's Voice in the Soul 15 an answer only faintly caught by the mind of the un- believer, but to me ringing clear and true and wondrous sweet: “ My grace is sufficient for thee.” For grace — God's friendship for me through the blood of Christ — all eternity is not long enough in which to give thanks. To be sure, a non-Catholic might exclaim: “ Absurd ! she is sentimental as well as foolish.” Or, “ Her thoughts were caused by some real, tangible reason un- known to herself.” Supposing I grant both these assumptions, still you will not quarrel with me, I hope, when I attribute the cause to that of grace. It is now over a year since my baptism. I have ex- perienced failure at many points, but never disappoint- ment in, or doubt of, this religion. May God's eternal blessing rest upon those who had aught to do with my entrance into the Church of God ; with this joy which has come into my life — not as a passing wave of emotion, but abiding as a river, deep and broad and still. And that you and all the world may experience the same peace and satisfaction which I have found in the Catholic Faith, is my sincere and earnest desire. I would remain, now and always, faithfully, Your friend, “ X.” The Catholic World THE NATIONAL CATHOLIC MONTHLY ESTABLISHED IN 1865 A Magazine for Clergy and Laity flEvery Catholic should know the great social and reli- gious problems of reconstruction. %The Catholic World covers these problems: states the principles that guide in their solution. ^Endorsed by the Holy Father. ^Recommended by the American Hierarchy. Subscription price, $4.00 a year. Single copies, 40 cents. Sample Copy Sent on Request THE CATHOLIC WORLD 120 West 60th Street New York City