by Amanda Evinger

Tell us a little about yourself. Where did you grow up, and what was your level of exposure to Catholicism as a child and as a young adult?

I grew up in a radically liberal, neo-pagan environment in Ann Arbor, Michigan, home of the prestigious University of Michigan. My parents held ferocious anti-Catholic sentiments; however, they were good-natured, conservative people and I am sincerely grateful for all they gave me. My father was an immigrant from the Netherlands and my mother grew up in a Dutch area of Michigan where her father served as a Calvinist Reformed pastor. My mother was a special education teacher and a homemaker. My father was an Elder in a Calvinist sect and a highly successful inventor and engineer. Although my parents were Christian, they lost sight of many of their religious practices in the midst of the materialistic, overly academic culture in which we were immersed. However, we did attend church on some Sundays, pray before supper, and occasionally read out of a children’s Bible. Other than that, we did not usually pray, study the Christian Faith, talk about God or hold a Christian worldview. As a young person, I was told that the Pope was the “Anti-Christ” and the Catholic Church was the “Whore of Babylon”; the Mass was a form of sacrilegious idolatry; and that Catholics were not Christians and would likely be eternally damned if they were not “converted” by “Bible-believing” persons such as ourselves. I had often heard that the Catholic Church “stole” the Bible away from Christians, but Martin Luther and John Calvin gave it back to them.

My kind parents were simply naive as to how ruthlessly anti-Christian, drug-infested, dangerously progressive and violent the public schools in our area were, so they sent their four children off to them without hesitation. Feminism, sexual hedonism, New Age and Eastern religions, the ultra-left wing progressive agenda, anarchy and atheism were some of the main belief systems being fervently promoted in my milieu. Although I excelled in school academically, I suffered spiritually and emotionally, and my search for the meaning of life gnawed at me at every turn. I knew Calvinism was not the absolute truth, but I could not figure out what was. I attended services of the Quakers and looked into various New Age religions. By age seventeen, my turbulent and painful youth had taken its toll on me, and I grew very ill.

As I lay in my hospital bed, feeling like one terribly raw, gaping wound, I had an overwhelming desire to talk to Jesus again—something I hadn’t been able to do for years. I began to see that my only hope in life and death was to be found in His Divine Love. It was a crystal-clear realization, and I clung to it with all of my heart, and resolved to say a little prayer every day.

What experience first piqued your interest in Tradition?

One step towards the most merciful Heart of Our Lord led to the next, and He gradually began to heal my body, mind, and soul with His goodness and truth. At eighteen, I entered a national service program, through which I helped impoverished preschool children. In my free time, I visited various churches, and had a couple of jarring experiences along the way. Friends of mine were Christian Scientists, so I went to their services, but was soon turned off by how obsessed they were about denying people medication. At another church I visited, the pastor began his sermon with, “They talk about Adam and Eve, and we talk about Adam and Steve!”

At one point, my friend noticed my desire to help the poor, so he suggested I visit his father in California. Intrigued, I hopped on a bus to help out at his clinic in Blythe, a prison town bordering the vast expanse of the Mojave Desert. There, I encountered the breathtaking beauty of Catholicism in a radical way. The doctor lived a saintly life; he went to daily Mass, taught CCD, prayed all fifteen mysteries of the Rosary daily, and had transformed his home into a profoundly Catholic mission clinic in which he served the poor free of charge. There, before the towering crucifix and votive candle burning away in the clinic’s foyer, I encountered Jesus Christ on the crucifix—not the stark, empty cross of Calvinism, but instead the living, bloody Suffering Servant bolted to the Cross of Love—the Christ of the One, True, Catholic and Apostolic Church, the Church of His Most Sacred Heart. I would never be the same ever again.

Soon after that, I enrolled in a Calvinist college founded by my great-great-uncle, a Dutch Reformed minister. However, I still visited the clinic over the next few summers, and each time I did, the loveliness of Catholicism won over my soul more and more. Although the doctor attended the Novus Ordo Mass, he cherished Sacred Tradition and once told me, “You see, there is the Catholic Church from before Vatican II, which was the real thing, and then there is the ‘Catholic Church’ which took over after Vatican II. A lot of the good stuff was lost after Vatican II.” I had no idea what he was talking about at the time, but nevertheless, his words curiously resounded in my mind for years to come.

I continued to earn a degree in Spanish and Theology, and I prayed fervently to discover God’s will for my life. When I took a course on medieval monasticism, I began to ask pertinent questions: why were there hardly any Protestant monasteries, when the religious life was such a foundational pillar of Christianity? How could Protestants claim they were the only ones who read and preserved the Bible, when it was actually Catholic monks who chanted it daily and hand-copied the Sacred Scriptures throughout the centuries? Upon studying the writings of the Early Church Fathers, I marveled at the blatant gall that Protestant “Revolters” had in entirely dismissing the beliefs of their fathers in faith, flippantly tossing the gift of Sacred Tradition to the winds. And why were there over 35,000 Protestant “denominations” which held clashing theological views, while claiming they each possessed the ultimate truth of Christianity? Truth is not relative and it cannot defy itself.

After several years of rigorous soul-searching, fasting, research and prayer, I sensed that Catholicism embodied the fullness of Christianity. I tried to run from this petrifying realization by visiting about twenty Protestant and Eastern Orthodox churches, searching for a home outside the so-called “idolatrous” Church of Rome—but it never worked. Eventually, strengthened by God’s benevolent grace and enlightened by His wisdom, I took a gargantuan leap of faith and attended a Rite of Initiation for Adults (RCIA) class at my local parish. As soon as I walked in the door, I made sure to tell the director, “I’m not here to become Catholic. I just want to ask some questions.”

Sadly, as the classes went on, I realized that the material they were presenting was frankly contrary to the teachings within Pope John Paul II’s Catechism of the Catholic Church (even though it is modernistic to begin with!). One Sunday, the class was presented by a Catholic college professor. During his talk, he explained that he and his wife gladly used artificial birth control because the “pope is over there in Rome, he doesn’t know what it is like to have children, and he should have no say over what happens in our bedroom.” When he caught sight of the Catechism I had brought with me, he said to me in front of the whole class, “If you want to live your life in that box, that is your choice. But I have chosen differently.” For our First Confession, we were told to go up to the altar during the Advent Penance Service and just whisper something we were sorry for in Father’s ear, and that would suffice (even though many of us had decades of sin on our souls). Thus, from the “get-go” I realized that the modern Catholic Church was operating in a hypocritical way, and I would need to find out why.

Despite the heinous confusion I encountered in RCIA, however, God provided a sponsor for me who believed the basic teachings of Catholicism. She supported me accepting them as well, so that I might receive Confirmation in good conscience. At age twenty-two, filled with a serene fervor, I came into full communion with Holy Mother the Church. To me, Roman Catholicism had become an ethereal jewel, and I was awe-inspired by each facet of it.

Upon graduating from college, I left a near-fiancé, a graduate degree and a wealthy family environment to go live with Mother Teresa’s sisters for several years as a shelter housemother. During that time, I learned more about true Catholic dogma and the attack being waged against orthodoxy. I then entered a traditional Carmelite cloister which embraced Sacred Tradition and the austere Carmelite life in marvelous ways. I loved the life there, but I had to leave shortly because of a serious health issue. I was devastated, but my heart still remained there, and the absolutely gorgeous gems of traditional Catholicism and the Carmelite charism never left me.

Following the advice of a nun I really trusted, I then entered a somewhat charismatic, contemplative order which adhered to the post-conciliar view of Catholicism and its modernistic prayers and devotions (or shall I say lack of). My year-long experience there was traumatic at best. Every day, we had to attend classes in theology, ethics, and philosophy which were heavily imbued with Modernism and disordered sensuality. In time, it was revealed that over 162 adults were seriously abused by its members. Its founder was secretly fathering children while fostering a sexual, emotional and psychological abuse ring within the order. I was a victim of this abuse and had to formally report one of their priests, who was a well-respected priest in the modern Catholic world.

All of this helped me see the tragic dangers of “anti-traditional” Catholicism and inspired me to seek a more authentic version of it. In my late twenties, I married the brother of one of the nuns I was with in the convent. Providentially, we were engaged right after Pope Benedict XVI released his motu proprio. Thus, we were richly blessed to have a Latin High Nuptial Mass, the first one that had been offered in our diocese for about 40 years! The graces showered upon our union through that High Nuptial Mass have helped bring us through the trials of married life.

Why did you settle on the SSPX as opposed to some other TLM community?

Although we attended a diocesan Latin Mass for a time after we married, we ended up moving where there was not one available, so we started going to our local diocesan Novus Ordo Mass instead. Even though we “gave it all we got” we still found ourselves spiritually undernourished, scandalized by the sacrileges we saw, and persecuted by our own parish family for being “too” Catholic. We fought to bring Eucharistic Adoration to our parish, served in various ministries, went to daily Mass, and took advantage of the fellowship opportunities offered at our parish. And yet, things still felt “amiss.” Why were we the only ones with more than a few children at our parish, as well as the only ones who homeschooled? Why did we come home from Sunday Mass with such a spirit of unrest? Why was I the only woman in a chapel veil and a skirt, and how could good Catholics eyeball my dear girls for doing the same? A number of “last straws” broke, showing us we needed to find a better option for our family. One Advent Sunday, when the parish children were acting out a Nativity Play on the altar, and the shepherd holding the star was busy picking his nose and putting his findings in it, we knew we weren’t in the right place!

Troubled by all of these things, I began to do meticulous, in-depth studies of the Roman Rite liturgy, traditional Catholic spirituality, Church history and more. Some of the most helpful works I read were those of Roberto de Mattei, Michael Davies, Martin Mosebach, Bishop Athanasius Schneider, Dom Benedict Baur, and Dr. Peter Kwasniewski along with: The Great Facade by Dr. Christopher Ferrara; Infiltration by Dr. Taylor Marshall; Phoenix from the Ashes by H.J.A. Sire and Iota Unum by Romano Amerio. Meanwhile, I began praying the 1962 Breviarium Romanum and pitched my watered-down, modernized version of the Liturgy of the Hours. I also made a commitment to pray all fifteen decades of the Rosary each day, duties of state permitting.

As a family, we began to fast and pray novenas to St. Padre Pio to find us a Latin Mass to attend every Holy Day, and we even considered moving out-of-state because our diocese only offered one once a month. We visited many parishes in our diocese to see if we could find a Novus Ordo Mass that was more “reverent” than what we had been attending. As we were wearily returning from our fifth one, my husband said, “you know, these Masses are all the same. I’m this close to going to the SSPX!” I was so shocked—but excited at the same time. I had always sort of envied the women who attended the SSPX. They seemed to have so much support for their vocation as wives, mothers of many children, and homeschoolers, while I always felt so terribly alone. And their children had other children like them to associate with, which is something that weighed heavily on my heart. I knew my children would not remain faithful to the traditional Catholic way of life we were trying so hard to inculcate into them if we kept immersing them in our local parish, which was hostile to it. I called and wrote to Ecclesia Dei (which at that time was its own commission) multiple times, and they wrote us back shortly. In a matter of words, they said that we could fulfill our Holy Day obligation by attending SSPX Masses if we felt morally or physically impeded to do so otherwise. For further clarification, I showed the letter to about nine non-SSPX priests, and seven of them told us they thought it said we could attend SSPX chapels. So we did!

What practices or devotions within Tradition have you found to be most fruitful for you?

We have attended St. Michael’s and Our Lady of Good Success SSPX chapels here in North Dakota now for about five years, and we are awestruck by the graces we have received at these heavenly houses of God. I love being an SSPX Third Order Carmelite, which has brought many wonderful blessings into my life. My husband enjoys being part of the Holy Name Society, my son is an altar server, my daughter is the chapel’s organist, and our children are Eucharistic Crusaders. I am truly grateful that my children use a very beautiful catechism created by the SSPX sisters as well.

Now that you are a traditional Catholic, what are the greatest challenges that you face?

The main challenge that we face is the persecution, ostracization, and interrogations we often receive from family members, neighbors, and friends. Well-meaning though they may be, it has made our choice to attend the SSPX chapels tremendously difficult. By keeping a devout life of prayer, getting spiritual direction from wise SSPX priests, doing plenty of spiritual reading, and listening to programs such as the Crisis in the Church series, Dr. Taylor Marshall’s Podcast and The Kennedy Report, we have found the strength and light we need to carry on. Our Lord is the King of Truth and He will not abandon those who seek Him!

Do you have any advice for the reader who may be considering, but not yet committed to, Tradition?

I would simply recommend that they pray about it with a docile heart and study up on it in whatever way works for them. I would also suggest that they reach out to traditional priests for guidance and most of all, attend the Latin Mass as much as possible. In time, they will find themselves disturbed by the Novus Ordo and the parishes in which it is offered in many ways, which will be the ultimate proof of what God is revealing to their hearts.

TITLE IMAGE: Pierre-Antoine Demachy (1723–1807): View of the Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome.