I grew up in a Catholic home. My parents and grandparents were respected leaders in the Church. My siblings and I went to Catholic grade school. We attended Mass every school day. We learned our prayers and prayed before each meal and before we went to bed. In May, we had processions in the backyard, with “Mary songs” and lilac bouquets to honor Mary, and we re-enacted Mass in the living room all year round.
We said the rosary and participated in the Stations of the Cross. On Sundays, our small town of 3,000 had eight Catholic Masses, four at the Irish church and four at the German church, with their respective pastors of the same heritage. On Sundays, many services were standing-room only. We may have violated a few fire occupancy codes.
I was interested in God and religion, and I always had questions. Too many questions, perhaps. The answers to those questions were not always forthcoming, and sometimes the questions themselves seemed to create fear. Of course, some of them were superfluous: Why do those three old men sleep in the back of church every Sunday? Is that OK with God? Some of my unanswered questions, though, were more serious, and had significant influence on my view of life and the Church: Why are teachers mean to the poor kids? Why are little boys more important to God than little girls? Why did God let my brother get so badly burned? Right before I turned 11, I stopped asking questions, and I left Catholicism. I had been confirmed less than six months earlier. I told no one. I “played the game” until I was 22. I left the Church, but I never lost touch with the Church. I loved the music. I continued to say the rosary and to pray for intercession from the saints, especially St. Francis of Assisi. But I wandered rather aimlessly.
Then, one day a friend introduced me to “Mere Christianity” by C. S. Lewis. As a result of reading that book and having many conversations about it, I began to watch Christian television on Sunday mornings and attend Christian services by myself or with friends. What I learned in those years was that while I could worship in other churches, and learn more about Christianity from them, when I was in crisis, sad, lonely or afraid, I sought comfort in a Catholic church. That was my home.
One day, after a series of coincidences (or divine intervention perhaps), I had the opportunity to listen to Father Toulee Peter Ly, pastor of Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary and parochial administrator of St. Jerome, both in Maplewood, talk at Presentation about the real presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist. I knew he was right, and I knew it was what I wanted and what I needed. So, after more than 60 years, I rejoined the Catholic Church nearly three years ago. I am a Catholic today because I know without question that Jesus is present in the Eucharist, there is an unbroken line of succession from St. Peter to Pope Leo XIV, and the Catholic Church is where I am supposed to be. I am thankful not only for the Mass and the Eucharist, but also for Eucharistic adoration, weekday Mass, and the many opportunities to help me grow in faith, be part of a wonderful, faith-based community of believers and support others who need help. I am also so very grateful to my Christian friends whose hearts also belong to Jesus, who have helped me along the way, and who continue to support me in my walk with the Lord.
Mertz, 75, is a parishioner at Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Maplewood. After more than 40 years as a teacher, writer and human resources consultant, she retired in 2016. She enjoys reading, learning, chatting with friends over coffee, meeting new people, and helping wherever she can be of use. Currently, she is learning how to lector at Mass and enjoys her Saturday morning small group that is studying the Letter of James. Mertz says she feels blessed to be part of a family with seven talented brothers and sisters, wonderful in-laws, amazing nieces and nephews and two very fine grand nephews.
