(Editors’ Note: This story appeared in the author’s book titled A Circuitous Journey and in the Bicol Mail.)

I ALWAYS LOOK FORWARD to Sunday service. It is a time for worship, reflection, and meditation. These invigorate my soul, that is why I always get to church early—and get a good parking space in the bargain.

The service has not started yet, so I close my eyes and ponder on why Sunday service always brings a smile to my face.

I didn’t always feel like this. You see, I was born and raised a Roman Catholic, and my wife was born and raised a devout Protestant. 

I grew up convinced that the Catholic Church was the One, Holy, Apostolic, True, and Only way to salvation. We studied the Bible to defend the Church from the Protestants; “Canon Law says” outlined our every debate; and “that’s heresy!” ended all arguments. Outside the Church there was no salvation. In a word, I was an Old School Catholic in word and in deed. But not in thought, because one of my most underscored books was The Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale, a non-Catholic. I was in a dilemma.

On the other hand, my wife’s Old School Protestant upbringing stood me in good stead, because she, like the Biblical Ruth, believed that husbands should have their way in the family.

Except in the matter of changing her religion. For this reason, therefore, my mission in life was to convert her to my religion.

Every Sunday, my then future wife Delia and I would go to a Catholic Church. Sometimes I’d even bring her to Mass where no less than the Archbishop of New York Cardinal John O’Connor officiated. I wanted to impress upon her the pomp, the power, and the glory of my Church. The late Cardinals O’Connor and Fulton Sheen were my idols, so it puzzled me to no end why she wasn’t converting.

One day, I became curious and tagged along to her service. I was full of guilty feelings and hoped none of my Catholic friends would see me. We went to the Marble Collegiate Church, the old Fifth Avenue Church in Manhattan.

I could not believe my eyes. There before me stood my favorite author himself, the Rev. Norman Vincent Peale, delivering the homily! To say that I was “star-struck” is an understatement, for I drank every word he uttered.

Happy at my experience, Delia took me to another church the next week, the Rutgers Presbyterian Church on West 73^rd St. in Manhattan.  Again, I was visibly impressed by the homily of the pastor the Rev. Dr. Cyril Jenkins. What’s going on?

Dr. Jenkins met with us after service, and Delia introduced me to him.

“I’m a Roman Catholic,” I beamed proudly and waited for him to put on a face.

Instead, he lightened up.

“Cardinal O’Connor and I were classmates in the seminary,” he said, a first-round knockout.

Later, it was my turn to lighten up when I learned that he was the “priest” who officiated at the wedding of Miss Piggy in the Hollywood movie The Muppets Take Manhattan. When Delia and I decided to get married, it was the Rev. Dr. Jenkins who did us the honor of officiating our wedding. (Unlike the movie, of course, it was a serious occasion.)

Notwithstanding all these, I would not give up on my “Operation Conversion.”

Meanwhile, we were blessed with a wonderful son who understood my “mission” to convert, until it became closer to “mission impossible.”  From a discreet distance, I’d observe my wife reading the Bible to my son every night. Daily she would speak to him about God and the love of and for Jesus. And they were Protestants. How in the world could I possibly convert them?

Lord, I prayed, I need some back up from Paradise.

It was about this time that my former college Theology Professor in Manila, Fr. Rolly Bonoan, a Jesuit happened to be stopping by NY on his way to Spain and decided to pay me a visit. He wanted to meet my family.

Answered prayer! My back up. A Jesuit priest and my Theology Professor at that. This is huge. “Operation Conversion” was on. God will show the way!

Fr. Rolly was his usual amiable self. When he found out that my wife was from the same town (Malabon) his family lived in during the war, he kept telling us stories about his childhood back there. He told my wife that his mother would always scold him for swimming in the fishponds. He said his mother would always know about this even if no one saw him swimming because his eyes would be puffy and bloodshot when he went home.

While my wife was preparing afternoon snacks, I pulled Fr. Rolly aside and showed him to his room where he could get some rest. This is the right timing to ask for help, I said to myself. I waited for him to finish his nap, and when I heard that he was already awake, I knocked on the door and told him that the snack was ready. Actually, I just wanted to consult him first on a long-standing issue of mine. “In private, Father.”

“Confession?” he asked.

“No, Father.” I went straight to the point: “Father, you were my Theology Professor, so I’m sure you may be wondering why I have not converted my wife after all these years.”

“Huh? Manneee!”

“It seems now that I have failed.”

“But why do you want to convert her?”

“Because the Catholic Faith is the true, the best religion.”

“Of course, it is—for you. And for me, as well.”

“And the Protestant Faith?”

“It is the best religion—for her, and for many others as well. I have close friends who are good pastors, who live exemplary lives. Many of my former students are Protestants.” He named a couple of former classmates who I knew very well who were upright role models in society.

“You mean it is all right NOT to convert her?”

“Is she converting you to hers?”

“No, Father.”

“I think your wife is more sensible than you.”

“So what must I do to gain Eternal Life? You’re the expert here, Father.”

“If you’re Catholic, then be a good Catholic. If you’re Protestant, be a good Protestant.”

“She’s a devout Protestant, Father.”

“Then, don’t even try to convert her. Don’t even think about it.”

“So I was not committing a sin when I attended my wife’s Protestant service?”

“Manny, I not only attend Protestant services; I would deliver homilies as well, as their guest.”

That was all I needed to hear. I had prayed for a backup and here was the answer, right in my house in the person of my dear Jesuit Theology Professor. The beauty of it all was that Fr. Rolly not only backed me up but my wife and son as well. It’s amazing how God would answer your prayers and put all your doubts to rest, and in the most unexpected places. You don’t have to be Catholic or Protestant or member of any other religion to love Jesus. I wanted my wife to love Jesus the right way, my way, but this time I knew she was NOT wrong in the way she loved Jesus, God’s way.

It was time for our afternoon snack and my wife, as always, prepared the best native snack for a very special guest from heaven.

Suddenly I hear church bells ring, as my wife pulls at my sweater. I open my eyes. The church is now filled up. Everyone is standing for the start of service.

Here I am attending Sunday service in a multiracial, multi-denominational Christian church in Queens Boulevard, finding myself singing with the congregation “Amazing Grace!” and feeling every word of it.

All the pastors I have mentioned here have now passed away. Fr. Rolly later became President of the Ateneo de Naga, another Jesuit University southwest of Manila, and transformed it into one of the best Universities in the Philippines. He has passed away too. 

Paradise must be full of them.

(Featured photo in header: Church service at the Rutgers Presbyterian Church in New York City.)