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I hope to “briefly” (I use the term loosely) describe how it is that I came to be interested in a vocation in the Society of Saint John Cantius.

I was baptized a Catholic, and that is pretty much where my religious upbringing began and ended. I attended a Lutheran pre-school and a Baptist pre-school; I can recall little of any religious education I received there (not because it wasn't provided, but rather because it was so long ago). My dad can be best described as an agnostic, and my mother a liberal Protestant, although they have never assumed these titles formally. Until my third grade year, my prayer life was limited to petitions to Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny when the appropriate circumstances presented themselves. Even though I was never taught about God, faith, salvation, Jesus Christ, or any other article of Christian religion, I do recall sporadic instances in which I had seen religious iconography hanging in the walls of relatives" homes. Two images immediately come to mind: a crucifix in the home of one of my aunts, and, in my grandmother's bedroom, a rectangular framed picture, of the Sacred Hearts of Our Lord and Lady. I found the images both repulsive and mystifying. Undoubtedly, they sowed the seeds that would one day blossom in my calling to the consecrated life.

My first real encounter with my faith came about one evening at my grandmother's house. She had asked me to retrieve an article of jewelry from her dresser. While searching for the object, I stumbled upon what I would later find out was my uncle's old First Communion prayer book, from the 1950s. It was an ornate book, and I absolutely loved it. My grandmother told me I could keep it, and I quickly devoured it. It was not long before I memorized all the book's prayers, and even Holy Mass . . . in Latin! I learned the articles of the Christian faith: the Holy Trinity, Original Sin, Salvation, etc. I quickly abandoned the childhood myths I was brought up with and began having a real prayer life, a new life with God, His angels, His Saints, and His Mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary. Still, it never really occurred to me that a spiritual life as a Christian could never be complete without attendance at the Sunday Eucharist; I had only really gone to church for Good Friday liturgy each year (it"s a Catholic tradition my mother just won"t give up). This would soon change.

One Sunday morning, when I was about ten years of age, I asked my mom to take me to church. Her reaction to my request was a question: “Which church?” I looked at her confusedly. “We're Christian, aren't we?” I asked. “Take me to a Christian church!” Again, she asked “Which one?” She then proceeded to explain to me, as best and simply as she could, the differences between Catholicism and the various Protestant denominations. To say I didn't know what she was talking about would be an understatement. How was I choose from so many? Finally, she said “Oh, and the non-Catholics don't have Saints.” Now it was my turn to respond, “Take me to the Catholic church!” Our Lady and the Saints had played such a vital role in my new prayer life; that, combined with my constant belief that death is not an ending, merely a passing, led me to believe firmly in the power of the Saints' intercessions; the “Communion of Saints” may very well be the most beautiful of the Church's dogmas, once all of its implications are grasped and understood.

My taste of Mass that Sunday (at Mother of Our Redeemer Church) in 1993 was nothing like what I had memorized from my prayer book. The Mass was in English, there was no “altar” facing East, but a “table” facing the congregation. There was no incense, no stained glass, no statues, no Sanctus bells, and hand-holding at the Pater Noster (or, rather, “Our Father&#8221 . The only part of the Mass familiar to my ears was the Greek Kyrie. I was confused by this difference of rite, not having been aware of the past liturgical changes from the Tridentine Rite to the Novus Ordo. Nevertheless, it was the first Mass that held any real meaning for me, and I enjoyed it; I soon began attending every week. At my own insistence, my siblings and I were enrolled in CCD classes; because I was already rather well learned in the faith, I was allowed to join my peers, rather than be “held back” to catch up on missed catechesis. When I was to enter the 6th grade, my parents enrolled me in a Catholic school, Our Lady of the Lakes (the public schools in Dade County just were not safe for a Caucasian male). During these two years, my relationship with God grew, as did my appreciation for the Catholic faith. I was soon Communicated and Confirmed. It was also a period of doctrinal confusion for me, as what I was being taught in school was in conflict with what I was being taught at home (this is not to imply that I did not have a moral upbringing; I certainly did.). For example, my parents are “pro-choice”, whereas the Church is ardently pro-life.

I continued at Our Lady of the Lakes through the 7th grade. My 8th grade year, my parents moved to Broward County, and I attended Silver Trail Middle (a public school). I quickly rebelled against the faith I had once adored. I came to the relativist conclusion that for any faith to claim to be the “true Church” was unrealistic and bigoted. I came to believe that all faiths were at an equal footing, and were all equally true. I stopped attending Mass and stopped praying (I still went through with Confirmation, however). It was not long before I saw the serious flaws in the ideology I had adopted (actually, a little more than a year).

For starters, if all belief systems were equally true, then would not this mean that Catholicism was true? If so, then how could I disagree with its claim to be the “true Church”? If I believed that such a claim was “intolerant and bigoted”, then wasn't I in fact conceding that the Catholic Church was in error? During this stage of religious rebellion, I did extensive research on comparative religion (sometimes by attending different places of worship; for the most part, through my reading). I soon found that my philosophy of “all religions are equally true” simply did not stand under rudimentary scrutiny or common sense. An example was my research on Islam, during which period I read the Koran. Now, the New Testament is absolutely emphatic in its declaration that Jesus is “the Son of the Living God”. The Koran, however, insists that all who say God has a Son are blasphemers and ignoramuses. How could Islam and Christianity be equally valid and true faiths? Either one was right, or both were wrong.

After a brief bout with witchcraft/voodoo, around the end of my 9th grade year at Stranahan High School, I repudiated my relativist ideology and decided to return to the Christianity I had once loved. But one question reverberated in my head, the one asked by my mother 6 years earlier: “Which Church”?

To make a long story short, I decided after much research to start re-practicing my Catholic faith; I resumed Mass attendance and the Sacrament of Penance, and for a little more than 2� years I have been practicing my faith on a regular basis (although for a brief period I considered conversion to the Orthodox Church). I quickly grew disenchanted with liturgical abuses at Mass, and became interested in the “traditionalist revival” movement in the Church (not the schismatic one). My inquiries have led me thus far to the Society of Saint John Cantius; I have heard nothing but good things of Saint John Cantius parish; it supposedly has the only good Novus Ordo Masses in the country, if not the world. I am excited about the prospect of perhaps one day celebrating the Liturgies of Saints Basil and John Chrysostom; my experiences with Orthodoxy and Byzantine Catholicism have given me an immense appreciation for the Church's Eastern patrimony. It is here that my “story” ends.

I am the first to admit (well, perhaps the second, or rather the tenth) that I am a man of many faults. I can be quite compulsive, sometimes to a fault. I have been told on much more than one occasion that I sometimes display a degree of immaturity; in how I honor authority, in how I sometimes lack consideration for the feelings of others, and in my frequent reluctance to admit my mistakes. I understand that these traits are totally incompatible with the monastic lifestyle. Fortunately, I also have been told that I have great potential for good. I, as well as others, consider myself to be both intellectually and spiritually mature beyond my years. I strongly believe that I have knack for helping others; maintaining strong, lasting friendships; and for serving the will of God. I see my negative points not as irrevocable components of my nature, but rather as kinks that will be worked out once I am placed in an environment which is conducive to the development of God's grace stirring within me. I believe that the Society of Saint John Cantius is that environment. (My father has told me that there are two institutions that will discipline a man: the military, and the Church.) At this moment I am no Francis of Assisi, but as the old Negro spiritual tells us, “A saint is just a sinner who fell down . . . and got up!” It is my firm conviction that God's grace has preserved me from much of the trials and corruptions of teenage life: sex, drugs, problems with the law, etc. And it is God's grace that will enable me to live the consecrated life to its fullest. I look forward to my postulancy with the Society of Saint John Cantius, and will certainly take full advantage of this period of discernment.

Is it a question of serving people of two separate "Rite" orientations e.g. I prefer the Tridentine Liturgy so I'll follow it, and you can do your thing with the NO?