Envying Converts

George Watt's portrait of Cardinal Henry Manning

I'm a Roman Catholic.  There, the big secret is out.  I was baptized in the Catholic Cathedral of St. Andrews in Grand Rapids, Michigan.  However, I was not brought to the Church until I was four months old, causing Msgr. Poppell to scold my mother severely. He impatiently explained to her that, by waiting, she was risking my soul to baby limbo should I somehow succumb to death before receiving the saving waters of sacramental baptism.  On that fateful day, my godmother, whom I don't remember (rest her soul) was late in arriving because she was slightly (very) intoxicated.  Family members had to go find her at her home, dress her, pour coffee in her and get her to the church. There was some slight trepidation as she held me during the baptismal rite. Folks were concerned that she might drop the baby on her head, thereby sending me to that much feared baby limbo.  My parents chose my eldest brother Tom as my godfather; something I saw as even more unusual than asking an alcoholic to be my godmother.  I figure that, being the fifth child to come along, they more than likely ran out of willing participants.  I often remind my brother that, as my godfather, he is responsible for me and is obliged to take me in should I need assistance.  I think he is developing hearing difficulties, as he never seems to acknowledge that comment.

I like being Catholic.  However, it may seem strange that I often wish I had been a convert to the faith rather than being baptized into the Church as an infant.  Ever since attending Easter Vigils and witnessing the catechumens being baptized during the liturgy, I have greatly envied the converts and their spiritual odysseys.  

Back in the mid 90s, I lived in London and worked with an American Catholic University who sent undergraduates there to study abroad.  Just for fun, I audited a class with the students entitled Christianity in Britain.  The class was taught by the Director of the Program, who happened to be an Anglican cleric.  I often had to correct his rather skewed version of things Catholic but at least he was good natured about it. The students teased me, pointing out that if I was really serious about learning, I would agree to also complete the assignments; namely, two ten page essays.  I cut a deal with them, telling them that I would write only one paper, but promised to make it a very, very long one.  They seemed quite satisfied with this compromise.

I thought long and hard as to what I would write about.  There were so many great figures in English history that influenced the course of Christianity in that country.  I toyed with researching Thomas More, Becket, and the Tudors.  Finally, though, I settled on the celebrated figure of Cardinal John Henry Newman, one time Anglican churchman who eventually converted to Catholicism--causing great joy amongst English Catholics and, I suspect, great consternation amongst Anglicans.

In the course of my research, I began reading the book "The Convert Cardinals" by David Newsome, detailing the conversion story of two individuals:  John Henry Newman and Henry Edward Manning.  I confess to never having heard of Manning; something which would not be surprising to most Americans, but would shock many Brits.  In the process of reading this book though, I became far more immersed in and fascinated by the life of Henry Manning, and quickly abandoned any thoughts of writing on Newman.

Overnight, my passion became the life, actions and activities of Henry Manning, one time Evangelical, Oxford student, Anglican clergyman, Catholic convert and, eventually, second Cardinal Archbishop of the newly established diocese of Westminster. Manning became a powerhouse at the first Vatican Council and was the impetus behind Pope Leo XIII's momentous social encyclical Rerum Novarum.  To this day, fourteen years later, I still find myself enthusiastically reading everything I can find by and about Manning.  My "essay" ended up being much longer than agreed on, and although I handed it in (for an A grade I might add), I do not consider it finished.

Manning, an eminent and renowned Anglican, was ardently anti-Catholic and even more anti-papist.  This is what makes his road to Roman Catholicism so remarkable and inspirational.  According to many sources, Manning struggled for six long years with the Anglican faith in which he was raised and of which he was such a well known luminary and leader.  One cannot begin to envision the internal conflict, self-doubt and torment that must have preceded his eventual conversion and acceptance of the Catholic faith. His decision to enter the Church resulted in the estrangement of family and life long friends, including the Prime Minister of England.  This conversion must have been doubly difficult given that, during that period of the 19th century, English society was vigorously suspicious, and sometimes, downright hateful of all things Catholic  Conversion to Catholicism oft times meant isolation from the intellectual life of England.  During this process, Manning showed himself to be the most moral, honest and valiant of men.  His path to Rome and his life and actions afterwards, as Cardinal Archbishop are, in my opinion, nothing short of heroic.

As a cradle Catholic, I cannot really claim to have suffered a similar estrangement of family and friends because of my faith.  I have not had to deal with intense internal conflict, in the same sense that converts must experience such a tug of war inside their minds and souls.  I was raised in the faith and therefore it has always been a part of me.  For this reason, I think many cradle Catholics take their faith for granted.  I have not had to sacrifice in order to claim the faith.  I have never really suffered ridicule or been forced to be an apologist for my Catholicism.  Next to Manning, my faith journey seems somewhat tedious and dull.

When one reads the conversion stories of the likes of Manning, Newman, Brownson, Hopkins, Waugh, Benson, the Wilberforces and Chesterton, it is difficult to resist the temptation to covet their conversion experiences.  They sacrificed much on their road to Catholicism, and, in sacrificing, received a faith that was precious beyond words and of inestimable worth.  

It was so with Manning who, upon embracing the faith of the Catholic Church, did so wholeheartedly and, perhaps to the dismay of his Anglican peers, never looked back.   If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well, and Manning exhibited that maxim with every action and every word of his Catholic life.  Perhaps it is easy to romanticize the lives of these great Victorian figures who converted to Catholicism, but it is reasonable to find their stories inspiring and, in a way, to acknowledge that which we share in common. Even though I cannot ever claim to be a convert to the faith, I do think that there is a necessity to daily re-commit oneself to what one believes. In that way, cradle Catholics are like the esteemed English converts from the 19th and early 20th century.  Conversion does seem to take a lot of prayer and thought; however, once the leap is made, it's not necessarily a done deal. Doubt doesn't automatically disappear.  I don't think that converts are magically endowed with the ability to be great mystics, and they don't instantaneously become saints (although it appears Newman might be an exception here--at least he is being beatified).  I am certain that they need to re-commit themselves to their faith just as cradle Catholics are all called to do.  Fortunately, we are blessed to have their stories and their examples to inspire us on our way.

The Convert Cardinals: John Henry Newman and Henry Edward Manning