Why I Am Catholic

Dear Ana Marie Cox:

Your recent essay in which you announced your Christianity quite literally blew up. Many people talked about it and were moved by it, and it didn’t matter which side of the aisle they fell on: liberals, conservatives, centrists, and political agnostics all took something away from it. I think it’s because your piece reminded us that we shouldn’t be co-opting our faith for politics — which, sadly, happens far too often.

I’d like to continue the trend you started. I’m certainly not well-known like you, but nevertheless, I’m hoping that I can at least make a small impact with this piece. Unlike you, though, I’m not “coming out.” I’m very open about my Catholic faith.

But many people might not know “why” I’m Catholic. So here it goes: I am a Catholic because it saved my life.

Dramatic? Sure. True? Absolutely.

When I was in high school, I was not religious in the slightest. I believed in a god, but he was an abstract and distant god — something like the demiurge or the great mystical watchmaker, not the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I was more deist than Catholic, even though the latter is the faith in which I was raised.

I was also miserable. I was picked on and I was moody. I’d come home depressed, and I’d wonder why people were so nasty, even though I was nice to everyone. Because of this, I fought with my parents and sister constantly.

One time, I invited people over to my house, and I set up snacks and drinks in my basement, and I waited, but the drinks grew warm and the snacks slowly started to get stale, and then when I realized no one was coming, I went back upstairs, dejected.

At a particularly dark moment, when I figured I’d damaged my relationship with my family beyond repair and assumed I would never have meaningful friendships again, I shut my eyes and went to bed, hoping that I’d wake up dead.

But then I went to college — a Catholic one. And I joined chapel choir, even though I couldn’t sing. Why? Well, I knew it would get me to Mass. I didn’t see it at the time, but I know that it was Providence starting to pull me in. So I would go to church and I’d sort of observe things on the periphery, but I didn’t fully commit. It was as if I were a child afraid to go swimming.

In the meantime, though, I began to take classes, which introduced me to the intellectual depth and richness of the faith. Before that, in CCD, I learned that Jesus loved me and that He died for my sins. Okay, cool, I always said. But what else is there? Oh, and whenever I’d hear of the saints, I always figured they were like comic book heroes.

In class, I met St. Augustine, who partied hard in his youth and became infatuated with some really stupid ideas. If you take away the partying — I didn’t do that much in high school — you had me. I really connected with the guy, and he showed me that the saints really are just normal, broken people. He later became one of my intellectual and spiritual heroes.

My friendships that first year were good, but it was hard for me to really open up to others, because I kept thinking back to high school and I’d always say: What if they’re just using me? What if they actually don’t like me? What if they talk about me behind my back?

My sophomore year, a good friend of mine encouraged me to go on a retreat. I obliged. I spent many parts of it purposefully alone, lost in thought. I told everything discussed herein to a then-religious brother, and he told me to seek God. Okay, I said to myself. But how?

I found out later, when we were all at group prayer. People shut their eyes and then began to ask God for help with family members who were ill or dying, or for support with struggles in school, or to simply become better. I began to see the power of faith to move people, and I realized then that faith — of whatever sort — isn’t something that you merely attached to your name as a descriptor. It’s real.

I realized then that I have worth and that I matter. We all matter. Because, as you put it, we are “saved not because of who” we are or what we have done or didn’t do, but simply because we “have accepted the infinite grace that was always offered” to us.

All of us are God’s children, and He will never stop loving us.

That is why I am Catholic.

Best,

Jon Bishop

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Please join the discussion on Twitter. The essay above is the thirteenth in volume 2 of the cultural discussions between the writers of PJ Lifestyle and Liberty Island exploring the history of counter-cultures, the future of conservatism and the role of new, emerging counter-cultures in restoring American exceptionalism.

For Sundays we’re going to start a new series of Inter-Faith dialogues and discussions following the style of Jon’s open letter. Write a letter to someone in the culture explaining part of your religious and philosophical journey. Want to contribute? Check out the articles below, reach out, and lets brainstorm: @DaveSwindle. Send submissions to DaveSwindlePJM AT Gmail.com.