Supernatural city.

When I converted to Catholicism, I was walking in my neighbourhood one evening, deep in thought, when suddenly I stopped. Looking down at the next block of concrete in the sidewalk, I realized something. I had thought it was the sidewalk and the ground supporting me as I walked, but these are only the materials. The sidewalk appears to be the essential thing in the moment, along with the trees, houses, sky and moon. They seem to be what is most real. The ultimate reality in that and any moment, however, is something we do not see with our eyes. God. He holds that piece of sidewalk (and all of creation) in existence through the force of His will. He alone supports us.

Anyone who believes in God may reach this conclusion. There's a difference, though, between knowing something as an idea, and assimilating it into your worldview where it pervades all your thoughts and actions. That autumn evening before the spring of my baptism I was imbued with knowledge of the supernatural reality. This was the first of many liberating lessons about God's undeniable and powerful presence in the world.

I converted to Catholicism in Toronto in 2004. Toronto is an interesting place to become a Catholic. On the surface the city is overwhelmingly secular; there appears to be little left of Christian tradition and morality in the public sphere. In 2002 The Royal Ontario Museum switched from the traditional dating system of AD and BC to the politically correct, "culturally sensitive" system of CE (Common Era) and BCE (Before Common Era). In doing so, a distinguished institution attempted to hijack 2000 years of culture and faith, and of history itself. In that same year "gay" student Marc Hall won an injunction against his Oshawa Catholic high school for its policy barring a student from bringing a same-sex date to the prom. Hall brought his 21-year-old boyfriend to his prom and sued the Catholic school board for $100,000 in damages. (Editor: The lawsuit was dropped later on, when it became clear it would not fly.)

Toronto is a city where liberal ideology holds court and most people are either supportive or apathetic. The principle of human rights and freedoms is perverted to advance the agenda of aggressive secular activists and policy makers. It is the city par excellence for those who want to live their life without God, and it is a breeding ground for the Culture of Death. A friend once referred to Toronto as Sodom and Gomorrah--he was half-joking.

Therefore, when I converted to Catholicism--after years of being part of this secular mainstream--I was amazed at what was going on beneath the pagan facade of Toronto. It began with the RCIA program I attended at the Newman Centre at the University of Toronto.

Because my life had been mainly secular, I was curious to see who else would be participating in the RCIA. I knew few religious people, and around work I had overheard the term "bible thumpers" spoken with venom. I was also aware that the culture around me--and most of my friends and family--held anti-Catholic views. I suspected I might become part of a tiny group of social misfits in the RCIA. I thought my desire to become a Catholic made me an anomaly in Toronto.

I was pleasantly surprised. The group was made up of 12 people, men and women of various ages. They were educated professionals or students with interesting personalities and good senses of humour. "All these interesting and intelligent people want to become Catholic?" I thought. (And this was just one RCIA group of many across the city.) This was unexpected. It was also a learning experience about God, the world, and especially Toronto. On the pagan streets of Toronto there were people, in considerable numbers, who were answering the call from God--despite the lack of support from the culture. At my first RCIA meeting I began to understand the union of logic and mystery in Catholicism. Because a tiny wafer of bread becomes the body of Christ, we should expect the unexpected.

To further my understanding of Catholic doctrine I went beyond the RCIA and got in touch with an Opus Dei centre in Toronto. I heard they gave good doctrine classes and I asked them to help prepare me to receive the sacraments. I wanted solid formation in the Faith and I needed trustworthy souls to guide me.

From the moment I walked into their centre I was impressed. The spirituality of Opus Dei involves sanctifying the everyday details of life. This is apparent in the decor and atmosphere of their centres and retreat houses. Besides the attractive setting and admirable order of the place, I noticed something else. I had never encountered a group of people who embody joy and charity to such a great extent. I soon realized that their happiness came not from the usual hedonistic pursuits, but from their dedication and service to the Lord. The self-sacrifice and love of this small group perhaps does the work of sanctification for many more than they number themselves. They take responsibility for the work God asks of us, but many fail to do.

God asked me to take responsibility also, and exchange hedonism for penance, pleasure for love. He baptized me into a new life in the spring of 2004. In my new life I continued to encounter the truth that "the gates of Hades will not prevail," (Matt. 16:18) although hell often seemed to be on my doorstep. The scourges of same-sex "marriage," abortion, euthanasia, pornography and grave misuses of biotechnology were all over the media and the streets of Toronto. The root of these evils was becoming clear to me: atheism, marked by rampant materialism and the warping of our sexual identity. I saw no signs of understanding, outside of the Church, that we are persons created by and for God.

The salve for this evil is the Church, but in Toronto at the beginning of the 3rd millenium the Church seemed forgotten. Yet, as I began attending Mass in the parishes in my neighbourhood, as well as in other areas of the city, I found something that surprised me. On the surface no one appears to believe in God; however, there are a lot of churches and they are far from empty.

One measure of the catholicity of the city is weekday Mass attendance. In my neighbourhood there are three Catholic churches within short walking distance. During the week there are always people present in these churches, and in surprising numbers. Toronto is saturated with secular messages and values, but the three Catholic churches in my neighbourhood alone have a large number of faithful attending weekday Mass.

There was a discrepancy here. All the information I received from the media and different cultural institutions denied this was going on. In a city where materialism and pleasure-seeking appear to have taken over, there are people who make an effort to get to Mass every day of the week. This was exciting. It is the Truth: Christ was crucified that day on Calvary, and in Toronto these days He is crucified again and again--he is denied. But on the cross He was and is King, and more people worship Him than I had known.

Because Toronto is the kind of place where a "gay" high school student becomes a media darling by forcing a Catholic school to give up the right to act on its beliefs, I was happy to find the unexpected in this city. What I found is faith. It is faith in the crucified and risen Christ embodied in an attractive, powerful and undeniable way. In Toronto faith is like Christ standing before Pilate and the crowd: misunderstood and crucified, the Truth nevertheless. The pagan gods of the city--money, beauty, health and pleasure--appear to rule, yet God soars in enough people's hearts to make this city a cornerstone of the Church. It is because faith survives in Toronto in a harsh climate of secularism that the city is this rock

The Catholic Church in North America and Europe is often referred to as being in crisis. Something is wrong, and perhaps it can be measured concretely in a lack of vocations or in fallen Mass attendance. A greater problem facing the Church, though, is that it no longer has a place in mainstream culture. In general, the arts are not informed by a love of God and a desire to spread His goodness. Academia and the mainstream media have an anti-Catholic bias, and the former has the minds of the impressionable and the latter the attention of everyone. Outside of Mass there is little to reinforce Catholics who are trying to live truly Catholic lives--apostolic lives--other than the faith and grace God gives them. This is no small reinforcement.

The success of The Passion of the Christ however, shows there is a void to be filled, and it is possible to fill it. Hollywood producers realized that people who normally do not go to the movies went to see Mel Gibson's film. They have been trying to figure out how to get this group into the theatres again, asking the question, "What kind of film would it take?" The people these producers want to reach are Christians, and they respond when the culture acknowledges their faith.

Becoming a Catholic in Toronto has taught me that despite the lack of support from the culture around it, the Church is very much alive. And, once a person enters it, the Catholic Church engages the intellect, leading that soul to surprisingly realistic and profoundly complete answers to life's big questions. The Faith is more than observances and ornaments; it is the full expression of what it is to be human. The Church offers this to everyone, but the treasure goes unrecognized.

Within this discrepancy lie our footsteps falling on the sidewalk, and our eyes seeing only concrete. Our minds and hearts are not reaching further to find that the buildings and people filling up the restless metropolis are not what they seem. We stand, sway and fall within God's invisible breath--all of us. There must be joy in Heaven when this supernatural element--the ultimate reality--is reflected in our lives, embodied in the things we make and do.

Living in this ultra-pagan culture, I can do something small and simple about the lack of support for the Church. In the circumstances God places me, with the means He offers me, I can sanctify my own life. This involves a struggle, but the more I follow Christ, the stronger the Church becomes and the discrepancy lessens. In point 831 of The Way St. Josemaria Escriva counsels, "Among those around you, apostolic soul, you are the stone fallen into the lake. With your word and example produce a first ripple ... and it will produce another ... and then another, and another ... each time wider. Now do you understand the greatness of your mission?" (Princeton: Scepter Publishers, p. 285).

Toronto is not Sodom and Gomorrah, but God does hold the city in the palm of His hand with the power to save or crush, and it seems people just keep rushing by. Yet some are stopping, resting at the foot of the cross, and sanctifying the world for an unknowing mass of people.

This is the second easy in our series on converts. Catholic Insight solicits additional articles.

Carolyn Foster was born and raised in Winnipeg and now lives in Toronto, where she works at an independent school for girls.