Why I Became Orthodox

“It is my prayer for you that God will open your heart, and you yourself will do what you can to meet Him. You will find there happiness you never dreamed possible before; your heart will join your head in recognizing the true God, and no real truth you have ever known will ever be lost.”

— Fr. Seraphim Rose, letter to a convert

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Last year I was visiting a small Greek Orthodox parish here in New Hampshire. After the liturgy, a middle-aged man came up to me and asked if I was Greek. I said no, I’m a convert. He smiled and said that he, too, was a convert of sorts. “It’s an interesting story,” he said. This gentleman is himself Greek and was raised Greek Orthodox. He fell away during high school, however. It wasn’t until he met his wife—who’s also Greek—that he started coming back to church.

Suddenly he stopped talking and just stood there, smiling. After a few seconds I realized, Oh! That’s the whole story. I said that it was beautiful, and then we began talking about spinach pie.

Truth be told, I didn’t find his tale very gripping. I guess you had to be there.

That’s the thing about conversions, though, isn’t it? From the outside, they generally seem uneventful. Yet for the convert (or revert), it’s a life-changing, earth-shattering, experience. It turns the cosmos upside-down.

It’s probably a bit like asking a man how he fell in love with his wife. He could try to describe the emotions he felt, but billions of other men have felt the same feelings for billions of other women. He could describe the things he loves about his wife, but you could find millions of other women who fit the same description. He could describe her beauty, but how many other women have cascading curls, warm brown eyes, a little button nose, and a smile that gives a whole new meaning to life?

For the Christian, conversion is very much like courtship. It’s falling in love. It’s falling in love with a Person. It’s sacred, and therefore ineffable.

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On Sunday, June 23—the Feast of Pentecost—I was received into the Orthodox Church. I had announced my conversion a few weeks earlier, on May 17, via my old Substack. Then I deleted my account.

I did this for three reasons.

Firstly, the conversion process made me painfully aware of my own ignorance. For years, I worked as a Catholic journalist. I trumpeted my Catholic opinions so confidently all over the internet. In becoming Orthodox, I had to admit that I’d been wrong on some pretty big questions. Shutting up for a while seemed like the appropriate response.

Secondly, I assumed folks wouldn’t care what I have to say anymore. I’m not sure how much credibility I have left. If the answer is “none whatsoever,” I’d understand.

Thirdly, as we said, folks just aren’t terribly interested in other people’s conversion stories—not unless they’re extremely dramatic, which mine wasn’t. It destroyed my career. It ruined many of my friendships with Roman Catholics and caused a terrible strain on many others. And I will say, there were some dramatic moments: the weeping icon, etc. But if you’d been a fly on the wall, watching me for the last two years, all you would have seen was me reading, talking, praying, and sitting quietly in front of my icon corner.

So, I was happy to keep mum about the whole thing. Then I noticed that folks were discussing my conversion without me, including (but not limited to) Rorate Caeli, NovusOrdoWatch, Peter Kwasniewski, Deacon Nick Donnelly, Stuart Chessman, and, confusingly, a Brazilian newspaper columnist named Marcio Antonio Campos.

What’s odd is that everyone seems to agree that my conversion was, ultimately, a rejection of Pope Francis. Let me be absolutely clear on this point: it wasn’t. And while I was enjoying my anonymity, I also feel a duty to set the record straight. As St. Peter said, “always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks you a reason for the hope that is in you, with meekness and fear” (1 Peter 3:15).

So, let me give you the cliffnotes version.

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I joined the Orthodox Church because I came to believe that it’s the one, true Church founded by Jesus Christ. I became Orthodox because I believe Orthodoxy is the one, true Faith handed down by Christ to His Apostles, and by the Apostles to the Fathers of the Church.

I believe the four Eastern patriarchs were right to resist those novelties which the Western Church embraced in the centuries leading up to the Great Schism 1054. I believe they were right to reject the insertion of the filioque into the Nicene Creed. I believe they were right to condemn the popes’ efforts to expand their own ecclesial and temporal power. I also believe they were right to reject innovations such as the celibate priesthood and the use of unleavened bread during the Holy Mass/Divine Liturgy, though these are of lesser significance.

Over the last few months, I’ve spent countless hours trying to write a brilliant, comprehensive, and unflinching defense of Orthodoxy. The final draft clocked in at around 20,000 words. I cited Holy Scripture, the Ecumenical Councils, and papal encyclicals, as well as historians and theologians from the Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant traditions.

As an aside: it’s true, the current pope did influence my conversion, though not in the way you might expect. Since Francis took office, the Vatican has issued a steady stream of ecumenical statements conceding virtually every point to the Orthodox. Then came the recent “study document” on papal primacy, which calls for a “rereading” and “reinterpretation” of the First Vatican Council.

Now, Catholic apologists are quick to point out that these texts aren’t magisterial. But that’s not the point. The point is that the Catholic Church’s greatest scholars have basically admitted that Rome bears the lion’s share of blame for the Great Schism, and that Vatican I is historically and theologically indefensible, and that the Catholic Church must return to a more Orthodox understanding of ecclesial and magisterial authority. But, then, why not just… become Orthodox?

I said all of this—and a whole lot more—in that long essay. The fact is, though, I’m not an apologist, and I have no desire to be one.

As a writer, I only ever had one goal: helping individual men and women draw nearer to Christ. Of course, that’s not always how it worked in practice. I published a defense of the Julian Calendar and an attack on papal infallibility, both of which definitely fell into the realm of apologetic. But those were not my best writings. Also, it’s just not what gets me out of bed in the morning. And I suspect that’s not the sort of content which most endeared me to my readers.

While we’re on the subject, however, I’d like to ask a question. Why did Rorate Caeli, Prof. Kwasniewsk, Mr. Chessman, et al., assume that my conversion was insincere? Why not go with the most straightforward explanation (which happens to be the correct one): that I became Orthodox because I believe in Orthodoxy?

Well, I have a theory.

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A few weeks ago I re-read Met. Kallistos Ware’s conversion story, which was published in a wonderful collection of essays called The Inner Kingdom. When he became Orthodox in the 1950s, Kallistos was practically the only convert in all of England. In fact, his bishop warned him that, if he had any ambitions to become a priest, he should abandon them at once. Back then, every parish in the United Kingdom was composed entirely of Greeks and Russians. They would never accept an Anglo-Saxon priest.

It struck me how similar Met. Kallistos’s story was to that of Fr. Seraphim Rose. When Fr. Seraphim was received into the Church in the 1960s, he was still very much a rare bird. Reading his early writings, it’s clear that he took great pride in referring to himself as Russian Orthodox. He relished the fact that his Orthodoxy made him an outsider. Later in life, he would refer to this attitude as “church worldliness.” Yet it’s understandable why, as a new convert surrounded by White Russian emigres—folks with illustrious names like Romanovna and Maximovich—he would have become something of a Russophile.

Anyway, I realized something: It wasn’t until the 1970s (at least!) that Orthodoxy became a “live option” in the English-speaking world. Orthodox thinkers like Florovsky and Schmemann were respected in theological circles, yet very few “spiritual seekers” seriously considered joining the Orthodox Church.

And, given what we said about Met. Kallistos and Fr. Seraphim, it’s not hard to guess why. Westerners considered Orthodoxy provincial, “ethnic,” etc. And, all too often, Orthodox immigrants proved their point by holding converts at arm’s length.

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Still, I wonder how many great English and American theologians would become Orthodox were they alive today.

For instance, Met. Kallistos sometimes referred to C.S. Lewis as an “Anonymous Orthodox.” He points out that Lewis’s theology is more compatible with Orthodoxy than it was with either Protestantism or Catholicism. By the end of his life, Lewis also said that he preferred the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom to either the Book of Common Prayer or the Roman Rite of the Mass. Had he been born a century later, he would have been a natural candidate for the catechumenate.

Likewise, it seems to me—and this is only my opinion—that Orthodoxy was a much better fit for John Henry Newman than was Roman Catholicism. Yet if you read his scant commentary on the Orthodox Church, it’s clear that he was barely aware of its existence. Take this characteristic remark: “As to the medieval period I am not aware that the Greeks present more than a negative opposition to the Latins.” Apparently he’d never read Photios the Great, Symeon the New Theologian, Nicholas Kabasilas, Nikephoros the Monk, Gregory Palamas…

And, honestly, why would he? How could he?

Look: I’m not saying that Newman’s conversion to Catholicism was insincere or anything like that. God forbid! I’m saying that, had he been born in the late 1900s rather than the early 1800s, there’s a good chance he would have become Orthodox. And I don’t think he would have spent so many years agonizing over the decision.

To put it another way, I believe that Newman and Lewis were both searching for Orthodoxy; they just didn’t realize it.

Think of Fr. Peter Gillquist’s wonderful book Becoming Orthodox. Fr. Peter began his faith-live as an Evangelical Protestant. He and a small group of friends gradually became disillusioned with American Christianity as they knew it, and formed a study group to explore different aspects of Church history: worship, the clergy, theology, etc. Each member of the group was assigned a different field to investigate—and, to their amazement, each of them came separately to the conclusion that Orthodoxy was the true Faith. Then, in 1987, they led thousands of their fellow Evangelicals into the Orthodox Church.

Now, could this remarkable event have taken place in the 1940s? Or in the Victorian Era? Well, miracles do happen. But, short of that, no.

Once again, I’m not saying that Lewis and Newman definitely would have become Orthodox. But I think there’s a good chance—a much better chance than Catholics or Protestants might care to admit.

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It’s funny: even today, many influential converts to the Roman Church, from Scott Hahn to Brian Holdsworthy, will admit that they rejected Orthodoxy because it struck them as being too “ethnic.”

All of that is changing as Orthodoxy in the West—and in America especially—becomes more inculturated. My own parish is about 90% converts. We belong to the Orthodox Church in America, where over half of all priests are also converts. This includes our metropolitan, His Beatitude Tikhon.

We’re only now witnessing the (re)inculturation of Orthodoxy in the Western lands—an Orthodox Church that isn’t merely “Eastern,” but truly catholic. This has led, among other things, to a revival of devotion to the ancient Western saints—great soldiers of Christ who won Europe for the Faith, many of whom are now all but forgotten by Catholics and Protestants. I’m proud (and humbled) to be part of this renaissance of Western Orthodoxy.

And I believe that, as these prejudices are broken down—both in the East and the West—conversions to Orthodoxy will accelerate. After all, both Catholics and Protestants are slowly groping towards the Orthodox consensus.

Protestants, on the one hand, have begun to acknowledge the insufficiency of sola Scriptura. As Modernism continues to flourish in the mainline churches, conservative dissidents have begun looking to the Fathers of the Church to place Holy Scripture in its proper context. This began largely as an attempt to justify concepts like “traditional morality”—to demonstrate that old-fashioned views about sex and gender are not mere addenda to the Bible, but an integral part of Christianity.

Yet this newfound curiosity about the Fathers has led many Reformed and Lutheran Christians to embrace a “high” view of liturgical worship, the sacramental priesthood, the Eucharist, and even Confession. Unsurprisingly, the bulk of American converts to Orthodoxy come from this camp. (See: Peter Gillquist, Josiah Trenham, Andrew Stephen Damick, et al.)

Catholics, on the other hand, are approaching Orthodoxy from both the Left and the Right, as it were.

Conservative Catholics like Pope Benedict XVI, of blessed memory, are (like their Protestant counterparts) rediscovering the richness of of Patristic theology. This movement is called ressourcement. It’s an effort to “resource” or reground Catholic doctrine in the writings of the Fathers, avoiding the excesses of both Thomism and Modernism. And these conservatives explicitly point to the Orthodox Church as an example of a “living witness” to the patristic Faith in the world today.

Liberal Catholics, including Pope Francis, are using modern scholarship to break down the authoritarian structures which grew up in the Catholic Church during the Middle Ages. They’re seeking to build a “synodal” system of government modeled explicitly on both the Early Church and the Orthodox Church.

And if you ply a traditionalist Catholic with enough gin and tonic, you can get him to sing a hymn of praise to the Eastern schismatics. (This I know from experience.) They secretly envy Orthodox Christians’ ability to enjoy the fullness of Apostolic Tradition without having to bother with the Roman Church’s “hyper-papalism,” as they call it. For years, these traditionalists have inveighed against the “Spirit of Vatican II”; more and more, we hear them decrying the “Spirit of Vatican I” as well.

Now, I’m not saying that Orthodoxy is the only way for these Western Christians to achieve their goals. But I think it’s the best way, the most natural way. Protestantism may seem plausible when the only alternative is Catholicism; Catholicism may seem plausible when the only alternative is Protestantism. But we in the West have yet to seriously considered Orthodoxy as a viable “third way.” When we do, the whole religious landscape is going to shift.

I’m certain that, as Orthodoxy becomes a live option, we’ll see many more conversions from both Catholicism and Protestantism (as well as atheism, agnosticism, neopaganism, Judaism, Islam, etc.). More and more of us will conclude that Western Christians are simply trying to reinvent the Orthodox wheel.

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I don’t expect that any of you will be lining up to join the Orthodox Church after reading this. But, again, that’s not my point. My only goal here is to explain why I joined the Orthodox Church. These are my reasons. This is my line of thinking.

And, as I read this post back to myself, I realize I haven’t covered even half the story.

Before I became Orthodox, I was an Eastern Catholic. I attended a parish of the Melkite Greek-Catholic Church, which I loved. I worked for a Melkite bishop, who I hold in the highest esteem. But from the day I decided to become Melkite, I strongly suspected that it was only a matter of time before I became Orthodox. (Actually, I was tempted to become Orthodox even before I became Melkite. An Orthodox friend suggested that I try Eastern Catholicism first, because it would be less disruptive to my personal and professional life. But that’s another story.)

From the very beginning, I sensed that East and West were not two sides of the same coin. Catholicism and Orthodoxy are not two “lungs” with which the Universal Church ought to breathe, as Pope John Paul II claimed. The theology, spirituality, and ecclesiology of the Eastern Church are something categorically different to what has developed in the West over the last 1,500 years in both the Catholic and Protestant churches.

The Divine Liturgy, the Jesus Prayer, the icons, the fasting, the monastics… the Eastern understanding of the Trinity, Heaven, Hell, sin, repentance… the Orthodox view of the Theotokos, the Saints, the Scriptures, the Church… It seems to me so more ancient, authentic, and life-giving. It’s more true to the spirit of the Gospels.

That’s not to say that Catholicism is abjectly evil. Of course it’s not. Most of it is very good! And I still believe most of the things I believed when I was part of the Roman Communion. Nevertheless, Catholicism and Orthodoxy are, in several important respects, mutually exclusive.

I believe that, where they differ, Orthodoxy is right, and Catholicism (along with its younger brother, Protestantism) are wrong. That’s all.

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I don’t know if I’ll continue posting on this Substack. I don’t miss being a writer, and I don’t think anyone misses my writing. But if I do, I’m not going to come back as an “Orthodox writer,” much less an Orthodox apologist.

In the past, I liked to think of myself, not as a “Catholic writer,” but as a Christian writer who happened to be Catholic. If I take up blogging again, it will be as a Christian writer who happens to be Orthodox. As before, my only real goal will be to help my fellow Christians to deepen their relationship with Jesus Christ. I’ll go on reading and quoting the great Christian writers of past ages, be they Orthodox, Catholic, or Protestant. And I’ll continue to love and admire the good Christians who—to my amazement and joy—choose to read my blog, regardless of their creed.

I have no desire to judge or exclude those who happen to find the arguments for Catholicism or Protestantism more compelling. I’ve always liked what St. Theophan the Recluse said about non-Orthodox Christians:

You ask, “Will the heterodox be saved?” . . . Why do you worry about them? They have a Savior who desires the salvation of every human being. He will take care of them. You and I should not be burdened with such a concern. Study yourself and your own sins.

Thanks for hearing me out. May God bless you all. Please pray for me, and know that I’m praying for you.