How I was Evangelized by Beauty

                 The home that I grew up in was by no means religious, at least not in the traditional Christian sense.  My mother grew up a cultural Methodist and my father, the grandson of Irish immigrants, was raised Catholic.  He received his Sacraments, served as an altar boy, and attended an elite boys Jesuit school.  Sadly, both of my beloved parents grew up in unstable homes and experienced trauma that would take a whole book to explain. Their respective upbringings were more of a product of culture and social expectations than genuine faith.

  By the time they met, my parents had stopped going to church or believing in any religion. They agreed not to raise my sister or me in any religion and to let us choose our own spiritual paths.  In short, they chose the path of most baby boomers.

  Let me be clear, my parents loved us very much. While religion did not play a part in our upbringing, I was blessed to have a family where literature and the arts were always present.  My mother was an extremely talented singer.  I have memories of her practicing opera arias while I played in my room.  My father, in addition to being a music lover, spent the little spare time he had reading books on everything from medieval history to horticulture.  Classical music was alwyas playing!

  The choir my mother sang with gave regular performances and none was more important than the annual Christmas concert which, interestingly enough, was held at a beautiful Catholic church. It is impoortant to know that I was a very hyperactive child.  Getting me to sit still for anything was no easy task. Nevertheless, I would sit in the pew and look up at the statues and stained glass windows as beautiful music filled the sanctuary-- something touched me.  I didnt know why, but I felt different and the sacred art and traditional Christmas songs spoke to me.  Something told me that the statues of Mary and Jesus were special, even if I could not tell you why.

  As I grew older, the desire for God took root in my heart.  I had been to church with an Evangelical friend a few times and I loved it.  However, my thoughts always returned to the sacred imagery, music, and traditons of the Cartholic church.  So at the age of fifteen, I decided that I was going to be Catholic.  This would not be an easy task.  While most people my age were questioning or even rejecting faith, I was rushing towards it head on.

There were not many teenagers in Santa Cruz, California looking to join the Church!  It took me two years to find a local parish that could accommodate me, but I was finally matched with a sponsor and allowed to attend high school confirmation classes.  When Holy Week came I participated in every Mass, procession and devotion I could.  It almost felt like preparing for a wedding.

 On Holy Saturday I received the Sacraments.  It was truly the happiest day in my life. My parents, to their everlasting credit were there for the entire three and a half hour Mass.  There were many factors that drew me to the Catholic Church, most importantly the desire for God.  Still, the seed was planted by sacred beauty.