Print Issue: June 6, 2002

Passionate Witness And Academic Study Are Hallmarks Of General Track Speakers

By Rebecca Rakoczy, Staff Writer

COLLEGE PARK - With self-effacing humor, great timing, and a gift for connecting with his audience, Alex C. Jones led those gathered June 1 in the packed exhibit hall at the Georgia International Convention Center through his personal journey of discovering what he called "the treasures of the Catholic Church." His enthusiasm for his subject matter was apparent, and many times during his talk, the crowd erupted into spontaneous applause. Jones' talk was followed by that of another convert, Scott Hahn, Ph.D., a former Presbyterian minister and theologian, who also discovered those same treasures as he studied the Greek text of the Book of Revelation. Hahn called for the example of this Eucharistic Congress and for North Georgia Catholics to become the "Buckle of the Bible Belt" in a speech based on his discovery of how the Mass paralleled both Old and New Testament writings.

Both men brought their particular speaking style to the more than 4,000 people gathered in the main hall of the convention center.

A self-described "holiness" person, Jones was born and bred Protestant, in the Pentecostal church tradition, which relies exclusively on Scripture and the visible manifestations of the charisms of the Holy Spirit.

Jones pastored Pentecostal and evangelical churches in his hometown of Detroit for more than 18 years. He was deeply involved in his ministry, as was his family.

But it was in 1998, while researching the Bible, that he began an agonizing period of soul searching that led to his own conversion - and eventually, the conversion of more than 50 members of his congregation to Catholicism.

The 59-year-old pastor was anti-Catholic at the time he began his quest to refute the teachings of Catholic apologist Karl Keating. Jones had listened to a debate between Keating and anti-Catholic author David Hunt. Keating charged the group to examine Catholic beliefs like the holy Eucharist, confession and the primacy of the pope. Jones took up the challenge. "I have a hunger to know the truth, not just to feel good," he said.

He changed his church's Wednesday night Bible study into a study of the early church fathers. As he began to study, his attitudes toward many Catholic beliefs began to change. And although he was initially resistant to what he was finding, he realized the value and truth of what he was doing. The knowledge caused him great concern - and dread.

"I began to connect the dots, got the basic information and found, 'Oh, no,'" he said, shaking his head with a smile.

Jones paused as the crowd let out an appreciative roar. "It all led to the Catholic Church," he said.

In his study, "I saw this as Christian faith at its fullest with all its history. I also saw a real desire for holiness, to please Christ rather than to be pleased. I saw the center of worship was not the preacher . . . but the Eucharist as the actual body and blood of Christ."

He continued, "A lot of people say, 'what can the church do for me?' Wrong, wrong!" "It is what can I do for Christ and the church!" The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.

Jones' largest struggle was confronting others with his newfound belief in Catholicism.

"What will I do with this (information) I couldn't go back and do what I did before. It wouldn't be honest . . . I affirm it, I believe it, and have to follow my Lord wherever he leads me."

He began incorporating parts of the liturgy in his services. He moved the pulpit aside and put the altar front and center. He began using weekly communion as the centerpiece of the celebration, and recounted when he bowed before the altar. "My sister thought the first time, 'oh, he just dropped something.'"

The second time he bowed, she said, "Oh no, he's becoming Catholic!"

His congregation was suspicious, as was his family. He called them together for a family meeting.

"I told my wife, children and grandchildren, that I must pursue this truth with all my heart . . . This is the church of the upper room, the church of the Christian faith and I have to be a part of it. They said, 'You're nuts.'"

Besides family members who doubted his quest for conversion, Jones related that the most difficult part of his faith journey was watching friends who had been with him for 40 years leave the church.

"They told me, 'I can no longer walk with you,'" he said.

He began doubting his decision. "I thought, well I must be nuts, because no other pastor sees what I see. Am I exercising bad judgment? I felt alone, forsaken. I felt like this was the biggest mistake of my life." His conversion process also created difficulties with his wife of over 30 years and his sister, who saw him as throwing away years of ministerial work.

He also had to confront giving up his pastorate he had held for almost two decades. Ministers of African-American churches are held in high esteem in their communities - there are few African-American priests, and certainly, at 59, it was unlikely he would be eligible for priesthood, he thought.

He saw himself as the "buffoon of the whole crowd" for his decision to become Catholic, he told the crowd. "I thought, what have I done?"

He went to his sister's house for dinner, at one of the lowest points of his life. He was so depressed, he said he didn't want to say the blessing as he usually did; instead he asked another family member to do it.

The man did not know of his inner struggle, but his blessing gave Jones new hope. He quoted a Bible passage during the blessing, and said, "You cannot give up, you cannot quit. Don't stop. I am with you," he said.

From that moment he found a renewed sense of his true direction, and on April 4, 2001, he became Catholic, joining St. Susann's in Detroit. His wife, Donna, challenged to look at the Catholic faith in a new way, also converted, as did his sister.

"This church has the gift of perpetuity . . . you can burn it, beat it, and bury it, but the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church and the more you persecute it, the more it grows."

Scott Hahn, who grew up Protestant in the Presbyterian church, and received a master of divinity degree from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in 1982, became academically curious about the Catholic church while studying Greek versions of the Bible. A New Testament scholar, he was familiar with the popular theology of the day. "Everybody at the time was reading that book, 'The Late Great Planet Earth,' based on an interpretation of (the Book of) Revelation," he said. But the doom and gloom of that author's take on that Scripture didn't hold up to Hahn, as he began reading the old Greek interpretations of the apostle John's work, as well as other early church fathers, he said. His studies led him one day at lunch to go to a campus chapel, where he sat in the back of the church, pencil and paper in hand, still in academic mode. But as he watched the priest celebrate Mass, he began to realize the parallels between Old and New Testaments, seeing both reflected in this rite, and also in the Greek versions of the Bible. "I saw that the early church preached them together."

He also noticed the diversity of those gathered that day for Mass - old women, businessmen in suits, and college kids.

Hahn went home, unsure of whether to tell his wife, Kimberly, of his discovery, but soon found himself back at the chapel, being drawn not so much as an academic, but in a spiritual sense, to the rite of Mass. His personal journey toward Catholicism took some time, but during the Easter Vigil of 1986, Hahn became a Catholic. He had received a doctorate in biblical theology from Marquette University in 1985.

He charged the crowd gathered at the convention center to embrace the Eucharist, giving them some citations out of the Catechism of the Catholic Church to look up. "Remember these numbers: 1090, 1137-39, and 2642," he told the audience. "This is our birthright and this is our legacy."