Pray for the people of Ukraine and Gaza.
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Before we begin: June in the United States is now “LGBTQ Pride Month”. Some years ago I wrote two articles on the subject. If you’re interested, you can access them at the bottom of this Post.
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This Sunday is the Great Feast of Pentecost – fifty days after Pascha, when the promised Holy Spirit came upon the Apostles with power, “like a rushing mighty wind”, and “tongues of fire” alighted on the heads of each of them, setting them afire with the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and giving them power to “go and make disciples of all the nations.” As a result, here we are 2000 years later, the same Church still proclaiming the same Gospel.
Now, in what follows I do not mean to “de-church” anybody. As Bishop Kallistos Ware wrote: There may be many who are not part of the visible One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, but who nonetheless belong to it in God’s sight. That’s none of our business. Nor do I mean to demean anyone’s sincerity and dedication to Jesus Christ.
However, my search was for the Church founded by Our Lord Jesus Christ and His Apostles, unchanging in essence – with no Reformations, no Counter-Reformations – continually and visibly united in the Faith from the beginning. Alright, the true Church. Which does not mean we plan to take everyone else and stretch them out of a rack. “True” means “real, genuine, authentic, correct, accurate, right”. The Church that has held the course.
In order to understand why I had to search for the Church, I’ll need to give you my personal religious history. I know, some of you have heard some of this before. But please indulge an ancient priest: In my old age, the pieces are all fitting together well now, and I can see now how God led me and taught me at every step along the way, often when I didn’t realize it at the time, even when I didn’t like it at the time!
I hope the story of my search 1 may be of assistance to any who are still searching, 2 may help those who have found the Church to look back at their lives with gratitude, 3 and also cause any “cradle Orthodox” readers not to take what they have received for granted.
But I’m ‘way ahead of the story. Let’s go back to the beginning.
A long but necessary Introduction
I was baptized Methodist. With my mother I often attended an Evangelical United Brethren * church in our small village in Ohio. It was quiet pietistic religion. (I still know many of the old Gospel hymns by heart.) There was a sweetness about it, which I’ve never forgotten. Clearly they treasured Jesus, but it never entered my mind to wonder what it was all about, and there was no Creed to explain it. My mom went to church regularly but never told me what she believed. Why didn’t I ask? Why was I so incurious? I have no idea.
- later united with the Methodist Church, which itself is now disunited because of other issues
I think my “home church” taught me sweet religion. I’ve never been able to abide nasty religion.
Occasionally I went to Mass with my Roman Catholic grandmother – mysterious, in Latin. I had no idea what was going on. My father was a lapsed Roman Catholic (he had been abused by a Catholic priest when he was a boy) who rejected religion entirely till his last years. Sometimes on Sundays I stayed home with my him. I knew my mother didn’t like it, but she never made an issue of it. I felt torn, because I loved them both a whole lot.
Regarding Church, all I knew was that there were a multitude of denominations, each with its own version of the truth, with new “churches” popping up all the time.
At Bowling Green State University I went to a dinner for collegians sponsored by the EUB church. One guy cracked a harmless joke. The pastor replied “Religion is a serious business. I don’t believe in making jokes about it.” I never went back.
Two years later I went to the University of Wisconsin-Madison, to study meteorology.
From my scientific training I learned to think rationally (except some of the time): to evaluate evidence leading to orderly conclusions. That’s why I’m forever listing things: 1, 2, 3.
I started attending the campus Methodist Church, not so much for religion, but mostly because I was lonely. There I found not only friends but religion – reasonable religion worth thinking about – and for the first time I began paying attention. Again no Creed, so I’m not sure exactly what they believed about Jesus, but they certainly valued His teachings – to love, to forgive, to care especially for the poor and needy, the hungry, the homeless, the mistreated. A few of us met one afternoon with an assistant to Dr Martin Luther King, and for the first time I understood the racism that permeated (and despite great progress, in many ways still permeates) this country
From the Methodists at UW-Madison I learned 1 that religion can be intelligent, and 2 to treasure what Christ taught and be concerned for social justice, to care for “the least of these, my brethren”.
When people say Christian morality consists chiefly of condemning homosexuality and abortion and the like, my immediate reaction is: Where did Jesus say that?
Late that year I was alone in my room one afternoon, reading a book on comparative religions. In the middle of the section on Christianity, my life turned upside down. I don’t know how to describe this. I’ve told people it felt like “God batted me over the head”. Suddenly God was real – I mean REAL! – and I knew I was called to the ministry, which was the last thing I’d ever imagined. How did I know that? I don’t know. I just did. * For several days I floated around, extremely happy and utterly confused. What kind of ministry? I didn’t know. I decided to begin with where I was: Methodist Christianity. That’s as deep as it went in my mind.
- I guess it worked out. I’ve been ordained and active for 62 years now.
So I went to our Methodist pastor, who scarcely knew me, and told him God had called me to the ministry! If someone had come to me like that, I would have been extremely skeptical, to say the least. He, however, was a kind and open-hearted man. He said only “Perhaps we should get you some vocational testing.” So we did, and it turned out my skills were “social worker or pastor”. No wonder I’d been struggling with science and math! I was almost completely ignorant of religion, and I was terrified to speak in public. During the next year and a half, he gently helped me gain the skills I would need in the future. (I can see his face, but I don’t even remember his name. I’m ashamed.)
In September, 1960, I was off to Garrett (Methodist) Biblical Institute in Evanston, Illinois. When I went to seminary – this shocks me, looking back – I did not believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God. Nobody ever asked me about it. So why in the world was I in seminary? Only because I knew deep within me that I should be in the ministry.
During the first year, by chance (or was it?) I took a class taught by Dr Philip Watson, an old-fashioned British Methodist, who taught us the Creed. So that’s what Christianity is all about! And I believed. I pray for his soul every day. (The Methodists didn’t pray for the dead, but Dr Watson said he saw no harm in it, so I figure he won’t mind.)
From Dr Watson I learned the basics of Christianity.
Early in the second year something else happened (which I’ll not describe here, but it was profound) that caused me to know that Jesus loved me, and I knew I loved Him. And that – no, He has been the center and Rock of my life ever since.
Finally…
My Search for the Church began.
And here was why.
In our second year we seminarians were expected to serve little country Methodist churches on weekends, to teach and preach. Official seminary policy, believe it or not, was: “Don’t let anyone tell you what to believe. You should work this out for yourself.” I thought: “Who am I to determine the Truth?” I now believed in the Scriptures and in Christ, but I saw that even “believing” seminarians had quite different interpretations of the Bible and of the Lord. I thought: “Who am I to go out and teach people my opinions, as if they’re the Gospel?” I refused to take a church.
I saw that I had two choices before me. Either 1 I needed to find a trustworthy higher authority than myself, or 2 In good conscience I had to give this up.
So I began to search. In my research, at one point I had forty books (none of them having to deal with our course work!) piled up on my desk.
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This Post is getting altogether too long. I think I’d better turn it into two parts. So…
Next Week: What I discovered in my search and why it took me 26 years to get here.
Week after Next: Summer! Time to go traveling! and since I can no longer do so, I’m going to do it by Blog – beginning with My first trip to Greece, where Saint Nicholas got me moving towards the Church. This also will probably take a couple of weeks.
Thank you for writing this history blog, Father B7ill. I’m sure that everyone else will be just as interested in part 2 as I am. Will look forward to hearing from you next week. Thank you very much.