Christmas and Conversion
I date my journey as a Catholic back to Christmas 1981 when as a 16 year old I knelt at the Crib at Corpus Christi Church in Leeds after Midnight Mass and as Protestants would say, accepted Jesus Christ as my Saviour. It has been a struggle ever since and I remain a sinner in constant need of God's good grace. Indeed, there have been times when:
[I] have held and believed errors contrary to [the Church's]teaching.
For this and the constant round of tedious, boring, petty sin, I need God's constant forgiveness in the Sacrament of Penance.
Christmas remains for me a time where that commitment is renewed is clearer and when I place my trust again in the Word Made Flesh in the babe of Bethlehem. My taste for Herbert McCabe has waned in recent years, but he never wrote truer words than when he wrote of the genealogy of Christ (the Gospel for the Vigil Mass this evening):
“Jesus did not belong to the nice clean world of Angela McNamara or Mary Whitehouse, or to the honest, reasonable world of The Observer or The Irish Times, he belonged to a family of murderers, cheats, cowards, adulterers and liars – he belonged to us and came to help us, no wonder he came to a bad end, and gave us some hope.”
- Herbert McCabe OP, God Matters (London, 1987), pp 249.
Blogging light for the next wee while for obvious reasons.