I got a phone call from an old friend yesterday. Although I’ve known her for over twenty years, like so often seems to happen it was a friendship that had grown a bit dormant — living 600 miles apart and each with our own families, we just fell out of touch, even via email. I hadn’t heard from her (or reached out to her) in probably about four years. Which means that the last time we had any contact, I was still a Pagan, and had not yet begun my journey back to Christianity.
But she emailed me recently, and said she wanted to talk. We bounced around a few emails trying to nail down a suitable time, and yesterday we finally had a chance to connect. We chatted each other up about our spouses, our kids, the frustrations and sorrows of caring for aging parents, and the obligatory clucking about how bad the current administration is.
And then came the inevitable. "So, I wanted to talk to you about your decision to become a Catholic."
We had a good conversation. I think she wanted a bit of reassurance that I hadn’t turned into a neo-fascist, and like all good friends was concerned about my happiness. I think the natural course of the conversation answered all her questions. Eventually the focus shifted away from me and our chat opened out into a very nice conversation about her church (she’s a Unitarian) and about the challenge and necessity of practicing religious tolerance in a world where such a virtue often seems in too short a supply.
I teased her a little when she first brought up Catholicism. I said, "Boy, I’ve learned one way to get old friends to reach out. Just change your religion, and publicize it through your blog!" We laughed, and I hope she didn’t feel like it was a barb at her. But it’s true: I continue to get a trickle of emails and phone calls from old friends and acquaintances with whom I’ve fallen out of touch. They’ve either read my blog, my conversion story on Beliefnet, or finally got the memo through the grapevine. And then they get in touch.
Of all these old friends who get in touch, it is naturally the Pagan ones who have the most emotionally complex reaction to my spiritual wandering — after all, far more people leave Catholicism to become Pagans, than the other way around! Some Pagans sadly seem to take it personally, and need to criticize either me or Catholicism, and I’ve had more than one old friendship take on a distinctively chilly tone when the conversation didn’t go the way my friend seemed to want it to (I make no apologies for becoming a Catholic; nor do I refuse to be anything other than happy with my decision, even while I remain willing to speak up about the ways in which I disagree with the church). The worst was when one Pagan-author friend started to play therapist with me, trying to uncover what my subconscious problems were that resulted in me becoming a Catholic. When I pointed out that I was in therapy throughout my entire conversion process and that I really didn’t appreciate friends trying to therapize me or the assumption that embracing Catholicism had to be dysfunctional, she ended the conversation in a huff. Thankfully, though, most of my renewed-old-friends, like the one who called yesterday, just want to check in and make sure I’m still me. Those conversations typically go beautifully and I feel refreshed by them.
I guess there are a few lessons here. One is to try to do a better job at nurturing old friendships. Another is to really work on loving people right where they are, remembering that for some people my shift in religious fidelity may be threatening or puzzling. While it is not my job to take care of other people’s discomfort with my religious choices, neither does it make sense to respond to other people’s concerns with anything other than compassion, optimism, and gentle good humor. Ironically, the ethics of polyamory actually helped me out here. Polyamory works best when lovers continually reassure one another, particularly when new lovers are brought into the network of relationships. The point is as beautiful as it is simple: keep telling those you love that you love them, that even when things change you still love them, and that just because you’ve begun to love someone new that doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving your pre-existing lover(s).
Now, my situation is different of course, primarily because my "new lover" isn’t a person but a faith tradition, and furthermore, when I became a Catholic I actually did change my relationship with Paganism. I am no longer Pagan-identified. But unlike so many former Pagans who renounce or disavow Paganism, I have chosen to remain Pagan-friendly. I really don’t have any criticisms of Paganism that I hadn’t already held for quite some time while I was still Pagan-identified, and if anything, my relationship with Paganism is better than ever, since I have enough distance now to allow me to appreciate what is beautiful about Paganism without feeling conflicted over its flaws. All of this, of course, allows me to reassure any and all of my Pagan friends (at least, those who will listen) that I am still their friend, I am not going to try to convert them, and that I have only good wishes for Pagans and their community — even though I am now Catholic.
Keep telling those you love you love them, and keep reassuring them even when things change. It’s a beautiful thing.
