by Carlson Montour

Created on: January 02, 2010   Last Updated: January 04, 2010

My first memory of exposure to the Catholic Church was as an elementary school student. Several of my neighborhood friends attended Catholic School. They often talked about the nuns and priests. I was intrigued about the anecdotes they shared. At that age I was even more impressed by the fact that they had so many days off from school! You see, back then many Holy Days were celebrated by closing the schools. That was my first, albeit self-serving, inkling that Catholics had some thing I wanted.

Not much later, one of my Catholic friends lost his father to a severe heart attack. My mother took me to the funeral Mass. At the age of 10, I was quite impressed with rituals of the Mass. Parishioners entering the church, dipping their fingers in Holy water and then blessing themselves by making the sign of the cross; respectfully genuflecting toward the alter before being seated; kneeling and praying personal prayers before the service began; all these things seemed mysterious but so beautiful and holy. Again I had the feeling that the Catholics had something I didn’t and there was this tugging in my gut telling me I wanted what they had.

As the years passed there were similar exposures to the Catholic Church through attending weddings, funerals and similar functions. In college I became engaged to a young woman who was a first generation Italian-American. She and her family were devout Catholics. Their religion penetrated deeply into their daily lives. Often, when asked how long to cook something, her mother would give the answer not in the number of minutes, but the number of “Hail Mary’s”. When driving past the Church they would bless themselves. There were frequent references to praying and asking saints for assistance. For them, going to Mass was a privilege, not a responsibility. Through them I met several priests. Each of them seemed to have a peaceful, pious aura all around them. It was as if being near them was being near God. These experiences again left me wanting and feeling like this whole Catholic thing held something special and mysterious.

As fate would have it, my engagement to this young Catholic woman never led to marriage. It was the mid-seventies and for many years my thoughts rarely turned toward religion. There were parties to attend, protests against the war to be made, and much time was spent growing my hair long, smoking dope and rebelling against the establishment, including all organized religion.

Graduation from

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