I recently attended a theological conference in Missouri. As I drove down a residential street
near my childhood home I passed a house with a Notre Dame flag in the front yard. I was
immediately seized by an almost overwhelming desire to stop the car, walk up to the house and
introduce myself. It was as though I had found a long-lost cousin who I knew would be happy to
see me. Most Notre Dame alumni will relate to what I was feeling. Once you've attended Notre
Dame you forever feel a connection with and love for fellow alumni and for this great institution.
My experience is a bit different than that of most who have attended the University of
Our Lady of the Lake. I'm a Mormon - a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints. Actually, I was reared Greek Orthodox, converted to Mormonism, then studied theology
at a Catholic university and a Protestant seminary. Its probably no surprise that I ended up
teaching world religions for a living. I suppose Clement of Alexandria would refer to me as a stromateis - a patchwork of sorts. I've been influenced by many traditions and many approaches
to God and religion.
When I enrolled at Notre Dame in 1993 I fully expected to have my head filled with new
and unfamiliar ideas - most of which I would probably disagree with. Oh sure, I knew the
Mormons and the Catholics had some common ground. Both believe in the Bible; both have a
single leader over the worldwide church, a pope at the head of one and a prophet at the head of
the other; both have been labeled as "non-Christian" by some mean-spirited, non-mainstream
evangelical groups. These were broad similarities, however. When it came to specifics, I was
certain that there would be little, if any, common ground. That's not at all what happened.
The first sense I had that my perceptions of post-Vatican II Catholic theology were
skewed was when I began to read the textbooks for my first semester courses. Over and over I
kept running across references to the early Christian doctrine of theosis or deification. While
Mormons have always resonated with this teaching - hence our nickname, "The Godmakers" - I
had never heard of a Catholic touting theosis as sound theology. Yet there it was in my required
texts (Rahner, von Balthasar, LaCugna, Kung, etc.) - and there we were talking about it in class
as though it was as orthodox as belief in the sacrament of baptism. No, I didn't find Catholics
advocating that they were all going to become gods (with a small "g"). But there was clearly a
sense that Catholic scholars acknowledged the existence of the doctrine of theosis in the Bible
and patristic writings. Whether or not most contemporary Roman Catholics thought about such
things, I was sensing that there was something there; some connection to LDS soteriology -- the
study of salvation -- that caught me totally off guard.
A second surprise came when the doctrine of baptism of desire was introduced in one of
my courses. I'll forever remember a Sunday-school lesson I had as a 12-year-old Greek
Orthodox boy, in which I was told that infants who died without baptism would go to hell - not limbo, hell! We were actually taught that morning how to perform an "emergency baptism" -
just in case an Orthodox priest was not available to administer to an infant whose life was in
jeopardy. The Greek Orthodox traditionally baptize by immersion, but our teacher told us
"sprinkling will due in an emergency such as this." Then she added, as a passing thought, "If you
can't find any water, spit on the dying child three times - once in the name of the Father, once in
the name of the Son, and once in the name of the Holy Spirit." I can't tell you how many times I
secretly hoped I would have reason to use this new-found "emergency" authority.
The memory of that discussion has always stuck with me. I thought it curious that a just
God would damn an infant for not getting baptized when he had not the power to make the
choice. Because I had heard so much about limbo - a teaching today most American Catholics
reject - I was surprised when I learned that, from the Council of Trent (A.D. 1545-63) onward,
the Catholic Church has taught that individuals who don't receive the sacrament of baptism can
still be saved by the "desire" or votum of baptism. I resonated with this, not only because I see
God as loving and fair but also because this seemed to parallel an idea in Latter-day Saint
soteriology: "All who have died without a knowledge of this gospel, who would have received it
if they had been permitted to tarry, shall be heirs of the celestial kingdom of God; Also all that
shall die henceforth without a knowledge of it, who would have received it with all their hearts,
shall be heirs of that kingdom" (Doctrine and Covenants, 137:7-8). Again, contemporary
Catholic theology was not quite as I had expected.
The Holy Trinity
One of the biggest shocks to my theological equilibrium had to do with the contemporary
scholarly Catholic approach to the Holy Trinity. Most of us would have to admit - whether
we're Catholic, Protestant, LDS or some other denomination - that the Trinity throws many
Christians for a loop. As an undergrad I remember running across this statement by R.J Joynt:
"Consciousness is like the Trinity; if it is explained so that you understand it, it hasn't been
explained correctly." Who doesn't resonate with this? Frankly, efforts of the laity to explain the
Trinity are frequently misrepresentative of official church teachings. However, what surprised
me as a theology student was not how the Trinity was defined but how frequently and openly its
development was discussed.
Mormons have traditionally held that the nature of God, as given in the Bible, has been
reinterpreted over time into what most Christians would today refer to as the Holy Trinity. I
always assumed that Catholic scholars held that the Trinity was biblically based - something
Jesus taught and believed. Although I had believed Trinitarian definitions of the nature of God
were of post-biblical origins, I nearly fell out of my chair when my assigned readings and my
professors indicated that this doctrine was a post-Christian development that would have been
foreign to those of New Testament times. I'm not implying that contemporary Catholics and
Mormons would see eye-to-eye on the nature of God or which formulaic explanations would
best (or most accurately) describe His nature. But I think both Catholic and LDS scholars would
agree on the evolution that has taken place - and we would basically agree on how early
Christianity saw God as opposed to how modern Christians see Him today.
I could go on regarding doctrinal epiphanies I had and theological similarities I was
taught during my time at Notre Dame. Suffice it to say, Catholics and Mormons are not as far
apart on major theological issues as I once thought - and I would venture to guess that most
Mormons and most Catholics would be surprised to learn of the similarities we share.
So something happened to me at Notre Dame. I was changed by it - as all who attend are.
But I was changed in a different way; perhaps in a way only a non-Catholic could be. And in a
way a Mormon would never expect to be. Among other things, during my time in South Bend I
developed a deep and abiding love for Catholicism and its people. It was under the Golden Dome
and while walking the halls; it was during discussions in the classrooms and amid research
conducted in the library that I found the beginnings of the spirit of ecumenism which exists
within me today.
A conversation I had with another graduate student - a nun - is indelibly engraved on my
memory and soul. Speaking of a lecture given the previous evening she began to heavily criticize
John Paul II - not for some specific position he held but because she loathed the man. Suddenly I
found myself coming to his defense - not only supportive of many of his positions but of who he
was as a human being. Partway through the conversation I was struck with the irony of the
situation - a Mormon, at Notre Dame, defending the pope against a Catholic nun. I now see that
odd exchange as evidence of the love I developed for the Catholic tradition.
Today I teach world religions at Brigham Young University. Along with about 12 other
religions, I spend time each semester discussing Roman Catholicism. Again, probably because of
my time at Notre Dame, Catholicism has become one of my favorite subjects to teach. To borrow
a phrase from Krister Stendahl (former dean of Harvard Divinity School and former Lutheran
Archbishop of Stockholm), I've developed a bit of "holy envy" for the Catholic church, its rites
and its history. My time at Notre Dame strengthened my love for, and faith in, my own tradition.
It also instilled in me a great love for Catholicism - and a desire for ecumenical connections and
dialogue between Catholics and Latter-day Saints, because we are more similar that most of us
know.
One of my colleagues at BYU is wont to quote Saint Augustine: "In the essentials, unity;
in the non-essentials, liberty; and in all things, charity." Because of my time in South Bend I've
come to really believe this principle. I'll forever be grateful for my days at Notre Dame.
Alonzo L. Gaskill can be reached at alg@byu.edu.
(April 2007)
