BAPTIST IS NICE. CATHOLIC IS HOME.

My sabbatical at the First Baptist Church began for the same reasons I expect any number of Christians join churches. I was impressed with the pastor, interested in the church's ministry to the poor, and cajoled by a daughter whose best friend was a member.

At first, the differences from the Catholic church overwhelmed me. I felt out of place not carrying my Bible into the sanctuary. The grape juice was worse than any sacramental wine I had ever tasted. Contrary to my expectation, sin and punishment were almost never the topic of sermons or discussion.

Strangest of all, members seemed totally uninterested in an articulated belief. No talk of the content of revelation, the natures in the person of Christ, the meaning of grace, the sacraments. In this maelstrom of doctrinal uncertainty, I sought the counsel of a friend, an Episcopal priest. He nodded matter-of-factly: "Confessional, not creedal. The Baptists say 'Jesus is Lord!' and know their Scriptures, but have not developed a creed of explication, let alone something like the Catholic catechism of truths."

I came to cherish living without any doctrinal contention. Part of me was exhausted from being asked to grapple with everything from the nature of evil to what constitutes a valid marriage. I prized doing the Christian work of charity undaunted by anxious concern about what truths to hold or what doctrinal errors to reject. That had begun to feel like a waste of spiritual energy. At First Baptist I also felt freed from my Catholic tendency to rely upon an authority figure to articulate what it is I should believe, or worse, must believe.

The second eye-opening difference was the extraordinary amount of money Baptists give to their churches in comparison with Catholics. As assistant to the treasurer, I tallied the giving and prepared tax statements. Many members gave their full tithe. For a while, a young courting couple, considered together, were the largest givers. She was a recently transferred executive at IBM and made regular, generous donations. He had followed her from their native Oklahoma to New Jersey, and was working in construction. He seemed to make between $170 and $2,200 per week, judging by his contributions. They left First Baptist (let me confess my Marley-like soul rued the money) when the congregation chose a woman to be interim pastor. "The women," he quoted from Paul, "should keep silence in the churches."

And so to the third difference: Baptists choose their own pastors. I doubt it was a usual run, but First Baptist chose two permanent and one interim pastor in my seven years there. I enjoyed being a "de facto" member of the search committee (from some Jansenistic scruple, I never officially joined the church). Trying to decide to whom we would offer the pastorship was as close as I ever came to being a cardinal. Our nominee, however, was not compelled by tradition and the Holy Spirit to accept. This was a job offer.

I was struck (as I am with Catholic priests) by how little pastors are paid for a demanding job. Further, in the case of the Baptist pastor, he or she is not "the boss" as is the Catholic counterpart. At First Baptist, the pastor was clearly an employee (a true "servant of the servants of God"). There were scads of committees, even in this small congregation. While I usually described First Baptist as a democracy, it was really a republic with full participation of all the citizens on every issue. Baptists are conscious of "owning" their churches in a way Catholics are not. There is no "Let Father worry about that."

There came a time when the church faded to a very small group without a regular minister. I was saddened, but not completely surprised, since the obverse of the coin of completely local control is lack of institutional ties, which part of me always missed. I began to attend Mass again, and to be drawn by the Eucharist. The deep-seated habits of faith made my return to Catholicism effortless and even unremarkable. What I noticed most was that there was a community spirit among Catholics that I had not perceived seven years before, and I cheerfully recognize that the fault was probably in me.

After my sojourn among the Baptists, I am less sure than I was as a young person that Catholicism is for everyone. I don't think Christian unity under a pope is a realistic goal for this new century. But I, at least, am a Catholic.

I don't consider myself a prodigal. I'm wiser and humbler, I hope, from my sabbatical, and now I'm home.

Christopher A. Conroy, director of finance for a large New York City law firm, attends the Newman Catholic Center at Montclair State University near his home.