On this day, the Feast of St. Joseph, twenty-five years ago, I was received into the Mystical Body of Christ. Thus today I celebrate a quarter of a century as a Catholic. 

On the day itself I was rendered speechless when asked to speak at the reception which followed the Mass at which I received my First Communion. All that I could say on that occasion was that I had come home. Today, I can still not think of any adequate words to express the magnitude of the step that conversion represents nor are there words to express the magnificence of the blessings that the sacramental life has bestowed on me.

Here’s how I try to express the inexpressible in Race with the Devil:

After the Mass at which I was received into the Church, and unbeknownst to me, a special reception had been organized. The ladies of the parish had baked a cake which, if my memory serves me correctly, had the words “Welcome Home Joe” emblazoned across it. I was asked to make a speech and found myself, for the first time in my life (and perhaps the last!), entirely lost for words. I had given many speeches in my time and was a master of impromptu rhetorical flourishes during my revolutionary days. But here I was, on the happiest and most important day of my life, completely and utterly tongue-tied. In truth, the sheer enormity of the occasion overwhelmed me. What could one say about something so miraculous, wondrous, salvific, terrific? There was nothing one could say, and perhaps nothing one should say. It was too large for words. And yet, put on the spot, I had to say something, however inadequate. All that I could say was that I had nothing to say – except that I had come home. 

I had come home. Those four words say it all.