Skip to comments.The Day I Met John Paul II in a Pizza Joint (Joked: Catholic Church will collapse. But what if..)
Posted on 10/05/2013 10:58:24 AM PDT by Mrs. Don-o
For nearly a decade I wandered in a spiritual wasteland trying to find God, but looking for him everywhere but in Christianity. I looked for him in New Age occult practices, in Buddhism, and the worlds other non-Christian organized religions. One day, while living deep in the Bible Belt, I came across a Chick tract, which insisted that Catholics were Satanists who worshipped something he called a Death Cookie.
The tract was so jarringly abrasive, I felt indignant on behalf of Catholics. In an attempt to disprove the wild accusations of Jack Chick, I found myself researching Catholicism for the first time ever. Thats when I learned about the Eucharist about the teaching that God Himself comes to the faithful as a piece of bread, and my whole worldview changed.
This teaching was so radical, so outrageously absurd, that it couldnt be true. But the thought kept haunting me what if it was? What if the God Id been searching for was right there, waiting for me, patiently and humbly under the appearance of bread?
I responded by trying to run away, by shoving my fingers in my ears and closing my eyes and saying, I cant see you. I cant hear you, to God. What happened next was his response.
Suddenly, the whole world seemed to be speaking about nothing but Catholic issues. Somewhere in Florida, a woman named Terri Schiavo was dying. There was chatter on the radio about it every day. My safe secular world talked about dying with dignity and last wishes and the authority of next of kin, which was all well and good as far as I was concerned. But then there were all these Catholic bishops who just wouldnt shut up about the sanctity of human life, how that life was measured from conception to natural death, and how Terri Schiavos husband was advocating murder.
I wanted Terri Schiavo to go away, because she had brought the bishops with her. And every time I heard a bishop speaking, I started thinking about Catholic notions of apostolic succession and their claims to an unbroken line all the way back to Peter and the Apostles, and all their continuity and unity and fullness of the truth and the Eucharist. It always came back to the Eucharist.
Then, tragically, Terri Schiavo did go away, murdered by the people she should have been able to count on, and I selfishly thought wed be able to go back to bishop-free business as usual. But I was wrong so wrong; only a few days later, the world turned its eyes to the final days of Pope John Paul II. I thought the Catholic problem was bad with the Schiavo case, but it reached intolerable levels during the Popes deathwatch.
Every day, the Catholic church across the street from my subdivision had its parking lot full to overflowing. As I irritably maneuvered my way past the cars parked on the side of the road, I threw baleful looks at the turquoise-roofed building: Queen of Peace Catholic Church. With its gaudy tin roof and its ridiculously Catholic name and all those people inside, every day united in grief and prayer over the last days of some old man in Rome, that building became the focal point for my exasperation.
Saturday, April 2, 2005, dawned lovely and clear. My husband, my two-year-old daughter, and I went to run errands, getting odds and ends ready for the new baby, who was set to arrive sometime in the next two months. We stopped for lunch at a local pizza chain that featured TVs on the ceilings, an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet, and an atmosphere so loud that our high-spirited two year old wouldnt have to be shushed to spare the digestion of other patrons.
We settled in, and as my husband took our daughter up to the buffet, my eyes drifted to one of the flickering TV screens, and I saw the news. The sound was muted, so the only way I could make sense of the images was by reading the news ticker crawling across the bottom of the screen: Pope John Paul II, after a very public struggle with Parkinsons, had just died. I read the words, then suddenly started crying. Right there in the middle of a stupid pizza joint, crying. For a man I didnt know, who was the leader of a Church I didnt want to think about crying.
I rushed to the bathroom before my family could come back to the table and ask what I was doing. In the stall in the miraculously empty bathroom, I heaved these startling, deep sobs. I felt as if my heart were breaking over the loss. I couldnt understand what was going on; I thought it was either pregnancy hormones or some sort of nervous breakdown. While I certainly didnt consider myself to be part of the Chick Tract Anti-Catholicism Club, I had no love for the Church. One of my favorite phrases, when the subject turned to anything Catholic was The Church is going to crumble under its own bloated weight. If were lucky, itll happen in our lifetime.
This was the woman who found herself sobbing in a bathroom stall over the death of a pope. But, rather than dwell on my possible mental collapse, I pulled myself together, washed my face, and went back to my table, making sure to take a seat with my back to the TV screen.
Just over a year after his death, my husband and I entered the Church. Two weeks later, we had our children baptized. And while the radical conversion of a New Age feminist to a Catholic mother of six isnt one of the official miracles recognized in his canonization, I have no doubt whatsoever that it was the prayers and intercession of Blessed (soon to be Saint!) John Paul II that helped me come home to Holy Mother Church.
The preceding is an excerpt from my upcoming book, Pope Awesome and Other Stories: How I Found God, Had Kids, and Lived to Tell the Tale. The story follows my years of spiritual wandering, and tells the tale of God doing great things with flawed vessels.
Another "New Age feminists turn Catholic mother of six" story.
I can't get enough of it.
Guess I'll have to get the book.
Sometimes love is like that.
How about telling all her previous DEMOCRAT friends al about this and see what happens
Their reaction would be telling, I am sure.
Cue anti-Catholic bigots 3,2,....
It was in 1947 when my aunt (an organist in a Catholic Church) took me with her one Sunday afternoon to Eucharistic Adoration.
She disappeared into the choir loft where the organ was located and left me to fend for myself to sniff the incense, watch in fascination as some guy in ornate vestments held a gold monstrance (only later did I find out that it was called a monstrance) in the air and it suddenly dawned on me that this was where I belonged.
Why? I cannot answer the question. From that day on I was never interested in any other religion but spent all my efforts in studying Catholic theology. My parents even sent me to a Jesuit school. I have been inside a Protestant church twice to bury colleagues from work and have been inside a Maronite church once to attend Mass.
Somehow I never felt the urge to search for the truth because I felt I had found it. I shall take this conviction with me to the grave.
And all that because I got high on some incense in 1947.
Not anti-catholic...just anti-catholicism.
There is a difference.
Seems as good a reason as any other to join this false religion.
The Holy Spirit is the one who convicts a person of their need for Him. How I wish all here could see!
And I am not anti-catholic...just anti-catholicism.
You have not been keeping up with the posts of some of your fellow protestants.
Same here. I was raised Catholic, and never had any interesting in searching for the truth, because I already had it. This is my home. God's grace has kept me here. I have never wandered (very far).
No need to...just dropping in to remind you that the Lord’s Spirit is calling.
Be well, verga.
I answered that call when I re-entered the Catholic Church and came into full communion with her. One of the two happiest days of my life.
Yes, I’m sure you believe you are.
Not a single mention of Jesus Christ in the entire piece...Looks like another person looking for religion and finding it, without the Savior...
I searched for the ‘Death Cookie’ on Google...I’d recommend all Catholics read it...