My Path to Tradition
1. Tell us a little about yourself. Where did you grow up, and what was your level of exposure to Catholicism as a child and as a young adult?
I grew up in a relatively small town called Idaho Falls, which was located in southeastern Idaho. My parents had moved there due to my father’s job with a company that subcontracted out to a nuclear research facility established in a desert to the west of the city. My parents were Episcopalians, though my Mom had grown up as a Baptist in Illinois. As a family, we were fairly consistent in practice, making it to services most Sundays. My father even made an effort to keep Sundays holy by trying to ensure we did not engage in any more worldly entertainment, like watching TV (we were only partially successful here). However, I received very little formal religious education growing up; though I went to Sunday school growing up, I do not recall ever being instructed with any structured kind of catechism. When I was a senior in high school, I received “confirmation” but with little serious preparation for it. Indeed, the majority of the religious education—such as it was—that I received came from the Missouri Synod Lutheran elementary school I attended from kindergarten to sixth grade. Evidently, this lionized Martin Luther and the Protestant cause, but I do not recall being deeply impressed by this as it did not echo my parents own views at home.
I knew almost nothing of Catholicism through high school as my hometown is predominantly Mormon, as were the majority of my friends as a teenager. I knew a handful of Catholics they were not particularly fervent or serious about the Faith. There were only two Catholic parishes in my hometown, one built in the 1940s and the other in the 1970s. The latter one was designed like a vertical ski jump and I often daydreamed as a child of skiing off of it. In my senior year of high school, I did go to a Novus Ordo Mass or two (on at least one occasion with some Mormon friends). The only real recollection I have is of being surprised to see people receiving Communion standing, as I was accustomed to do so while kneeling (though in the hands) at my Episcopalian church. Otherwise, the Mass struck me as fairly similar to my own Episcopalian services. As a consequence, I did not have any real thoughts about or attraction to the Faith up until the time that I went to college, which is where I would be forced to think more deeply about the Church.
2. What experience first piqued your interest in Tradition?
I went to a small liberal arts Catholic college just outside of Dallas, TX, called the University of Dallas. The only reasons I choose to go to this small college—which I had never even heard of until the college sent me an invitation to apply without paying any application fee—were that I was given enough of a scholarship to afford it and that it was the furthest college option from my hometown. I wasn’t unhappy with my life at home, but I was interested to explore. Oh, and the fact that it offered a study abroad program in Rome during the sophomore year was a plus.
Since it is nominally Catholic, I met a number of Novus Ordo Catholics for the first time. I enjoyed debating (though these debates were nowhere near as intense as those I had had with my Mormon friends) them during my freshman year and the first semester of my sophomore year before running into some traditional Catholics in the spring of my sophomore year. Some of them were young ladies who had graduated from St. Dominic’s, the Dominican school in Post Falls, ID. Together with a faculty member, they organized some informal catechism classes (using the Baltimore Catechism) which I attended with another Protestant friend. This was the first time I had heard a cogent and clear presentation of the Catholic Faith, and by the end of the semester both of us had made the decision to convert and to attend the Traditional Mass. Frankly, my friend was more serious about discovering the truth of the Faith and it was not until he had made the decision to convert that I myself submitted to the grace offered to me.
3. What issues did you wrestle with during your conversion to Tradition, and how have you found resolutions to those concerns?
I do not really recall any specific concerns. Indeed, it never crossed my mind that there was any option other than assisting at the Traditional Mass as offered by Society priests. The only thing that was difficult for me—though not in such a way as to hinder me from converting—was going to confession. Of course, that was merely a manifestation of my pride which was touched by the prospect of presenting my faults and embarrassing failings to another person.
4. Why did you settle on the SSPX as opposed to some other TLM community?
The very first Mass I ever attended was at the FSSP parish in south Dallas. However, it never even crossed my mind to consider being received into the Church or going to Mass regularly at that parish. Initially, perhaps, simply because the people who introduced me to Catholicism attended the Mass offered at the local Society missions. I really had not reflected a great deal on what was at issue in the Church or what the SSPX stood for. Rather, I simply considered that I was learning about Catholicism and choosing to be Catholic; I naively thought it was quite obvious to anyone that the Society was Catholic. I was so clueless that at first, I was even only dimly aware that St. Pius X and Archbishop Lefebvre were two distinct people. At the same time, the local FSSP parish was forbidden to have marriage and confirmations in the traditional rite. As I began seriously to study and get to know the situation of the Church, I was quickly convinced that the Society had the most integral and coherent approach to the delicate problems facing Catholic consciences.
5. How did you go from being a Catholic convert to pursuing the traditional Catholic priesthood, and how did your parents take this decision?
Before converting, I had had some vague notions that at some point I might study to become an Anglican divine (i.e., an Episcopalian “priest”). This was loosely linked to my initial decision to double major in college in politics and in theology. So, there was already some ill-defined openness to a life in the service of Our Lord Jesus Christ, though I thank Him daily drew me to the Church before I ever acted on such a foolish idea. Independently of the question of the salvation of my soul, I am certain that had I attended an Episcopalian seminary I would have lost my mind.
After converting, at first I had every intention of getting married. I remember putting down a copy of St. Augustine’s Confessions after he described his decision to embrace celibacy with a vague fear. I had a similar reaction when reading St. Catherine’s Dialogue in the section where she describes the glory of the priesthood. In the fall of my junior year, I took an accelerated introduction to Latin (looking back, I think I took the class because several friends were classics majors and another was going to be in the class). When I described my course load to my dad, he told me that only “future priests” study Latin. I hotly negated this (besides, there were a lot of girls in the class!) and promptly put the thought out of my mind.
Now, I don’t think there was any specific “ah ha” moment that caused me to re-orient my perspective. However, practicing the faith regularly and deepening my understanding both of the situation in the Church and the nobility of the priesthood slowly began to awaken within me a desire to offer more to Our Lord. In the Christmas break of that junior year, I went on an Ignatian retreat preached by Fr. Iscara at St. Thomas Aquinas Seminary, and I believe it both strengthened and deepened my willingness to explore the priesthood. Over that spring semester of my junior year, I clearly at some point made the decision to go to the seminary after graduation (Fr. Steven McDonald, a young priest at the time, encouraged me to get my degree), though I do not know precisely when. I visited the Seminary in May of that year (the last of Monsignor Williamson) and was fully resolved at that point to enter.
For my parents, I don’t think they were overly surprised or displeased with my decision. In both cases, I believe there was a certain natural pride that I was pursuing an honorable vocation and a sense—given the liberal Protestant mindset—that ultimately I was contributing to the same cause, even if in a bit more prickly manner. In some respects, I don’t think that attitude has ever really changed.
6. What practices or devotions within Tradition have you found to be most fruitful for you?
The Mass and the Rosary. Confession as well, especially on account of the good advice I have received on a number of occasions.
7. Now that you are a traditional Catholic, what are the greatest challenges that you face?
Seeing the will of God in the events He permits to occur. Of course, this has always been true for all faithful souls. An additional difficulty given our circumstances is, of course, striving to reconcile loyalty to the hierarchy to the Church with the need to disobey concretely in order to preserve the Faith.
8. Do you have any advice for the reader who may be considering, but not yet committed to, Tradition?
Pray and study. To paraphrase Cardinal Newman: “to be deep into history is to cease to adhere to the Novus Ordo.” And this means embracing Catholicism in all its integrity and being clear in refusing to admit the legitimacy of principles and compromises which undermine the Faith and vitiate that perfection of life which the Church alone can give.
The other thing I would recommend is a certain modesty, especially in judging practical events. This was one of the great virtues of Archbishop Lefebvre and which is wonderfully expressed in his stated desire “never to precede providence,” We need to be firm in our adherence to the timeless truths of the Faith and the unchanging principles of virtue, but slow in assessing what those principles demand us to do here and now. Archbishop Lefebvre already indicated in conferences given in the 1970s that some urged him to consecrate bishops. He waited nearly a decade and sought objective indications from God’s providence1 that this would in fact be the proper response to the devastating crisis facing the Church. This modesty and patience can help us avoid running into extreme reactions in the face of the situation we find ourselves in. Not infrequently, when a person awakens to the reality of crisis and comes to understand the betrayal of our superiors in the hierarchy, they can be destabilized and rush into heady conclusions (e.g., sedevacantism) or react with an unhealthy and bitter zeal unmoored from the actual circumstances (consider all those who defended Pope Benedict as though he were St. Pius X and who now feel authorized to refer to the Holy Father as “Bergoglio”—ultimately, these two successors of St. Peter accept the same principles which are damaging the Church and leading souls to hell but in neither case are we in a position to arrogate to ourselves the right to deny that they are the Vicars of Christ, even if we can say they are unworthy). Our God is a God of peace, even in this Passion of the Church. As the Archbishop often said, he would leave to God or a future pope the task of judging the men occupying the See of Peter and would be content with defending and living the Faith.
Endnotes
1 The two he eventually judged sufficed were the principled negation of the Kingship of Our Lord in the Vatican’s response to his Dubia in 1985 and then the near universal silence of bishops when faced with the blasphemous outrage committed against God in Assisi in 1986. He judged the former to be the more decisive of the two.