Protestantism’s Conservative Catholic Converts

At Easter, a Protestant intellectual explains why many intellectually inclined young people are leaving Protestantism for Rome.

By Carl R. Trueman, professor in the Department of Biblical and Theological Studies at Grove City College and a Fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center

Since the Reformation, conversions between Protestantism and Catholicism have always been a contentious issue. However, recent data from Pew Research indicates that the flow in the United States is almost entirely from Catholicism to various forms of Protestantism (14%), but it is intriguing that a small percentage (2%) is moving the other way. And this latter group is not drawn from a representative cross-section of American society, but rather they predominantly come from those who are younger and more conservative—politically and culturally. Vice President J.D. Vance is a good example, though anybody working in intellectually oriented conservative circles is likely to know of at least one person who fits this pattern. While the Pew data implies that the New York Post’s recent headline claim that young people are converting ‘en masse’ to Catholicism is hyperbolic, it does identify a trend: intellectually inclined Protestants seem to be finding Rome’s siren call to be rather seductive at the moment.

This suggests a comparison with the recent trend toward Christianity among well-known cultural figures who were formerly nonreligious and even hostile to the faith. Niall Ferguson, Ayaan Hirsi-Ali, and Russell Brand have all embraced some form of Christianity, while Jordan Peterson and even Elon Musk have indicated deep sympathy for what they see as its benefits, even if they have thus far stopped short of affirming its objective truth. Something is afoot in the cultural ferment of our day: highly intelligent people are revisiting religion in order to find firm metaphysical ground on which to stand. The three great transcendentals—truth, goodness and beauty—have all become victims of the chaotic relativism of our times. And now some conservative-leaning intellectuals see Christianity as the way to re-establish themselves on a solid foundation.  

That may explain the attraction of Christianity in general for erstwhile secular thinkers, but why are some of their cradle Protestant equivalents finding Rome in particular to be so compelling? While every conversion likely has its unique aspects, the reasons for Catholicism’s attraction to such people are easy to discern. Catholicism has a distinct, relatively firm, and robust body of social teaching, at the center of which is a rich understanding of the human person, that provides a thoughtful framework for thinking through the pressing moral issues of our day.

Rome’s churches—at least those that avoided the kitsch revolution of the 1970s—are often replete with beauty, as is her Renaissance music and traditional liturgy. She also has deep historical roots and a solid institutional existence of the kind that appeals to those who want a place to call home in a modern western culture marked by its liquid nature. Then there is also Rome’s deep intellectual heritage: from Thomas Aquinas’s Summa through to the works of John Paul II and Benedict XVI. Finally, there are the signal contributions to literary expressions of the faith: Sigrid Undset, Flannery O’Connor, Walker Percy, Shusaku Endo, G.K. Chesterton, J.R.R. Tolkien, and (my personal favorites) Evelyn Waugh and Graham Greene. On all of these fronts, Catholicism makes contributions that Protestantism cannot match. Seen from this angle, it is no wonder that conservative intellectuals who love Western culture and wish to preserve it feel the attraction.

And yet there is another side to this story. One of the ironies of seeing Rome in these purely cultural terms is how selective it is. Indeed, one might put it more provocatively: this is a distinctly Protestant approach to Rome—if we define Protestantism as, at its best, a phenomenon that emphasizes religious freedom and choice, or, at its worst, one that indulges in religious consumerism. For if we allow that the above reasons represent attractive dimensions to Rome, there are certainly more than enough unattractive dimensions that embody a deep anti-intellectualism. These can only be ignored by an act of will or from the safe distance of elite salons and cocktail parties.

True, the papacy has thrown up the occasional impressive figure.  Gregory the Great would be one, as in their different ways were John Paul II and Benedict XVI. But the vast majority of popes have been at best non-descript, and many have been rather mediocre if not downright sleazy. Of course, Catholics will respond with the obvious point that the Petrine office is separable from its occupant. That may work for Catholics, but from a critic’s perspective, it seems a very convenient way of making the claims of the office unfalsifiable. And given that the officeholder is not incidental to the actions performed in office, the distinction is more than a tad specious, as the confusions about both doctrine and practice sown by Francis indicate. His move to bless individuals in same-sex partnerships but not their actual partnerships is one good example, as is his suppression of the Latin Mass—a move that Cranmer and Luther would’ve been proud of. Another is his appointment of Cardinal Fernandez—a theological progressive—as head of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith. Whether the ‘deposit of the faith’ is in safe hands—when those same hands penned bizarre books on the theology of kissing and on ‘mystical orgasms’—is an interesting question.

There is also much artistic beauty in Rome. This is what first attracted Peter Kreeft to Rome in the early 1960s as he recounts in his recent memoir, From Calvinist to Catholic, and his experience has no doubt been replicated many times over the years. Who can visit Rome and not feel the power of St. Peter’s Square or Michelangelo’s Pieta? But the connection between beauty and the substance of Catholicism as it is lived out is scarcely straightforward. From Caravaggio to Eric Gill, the relationship between Catholic piety and artistic beauty is vexed. And neither Endo nor Greene were renowned for their orthodoxy. In addition, Rome has also produced plenty of garbage too. Think, for example, of the new church mascot for the year of jubilee, Luce. Serious faith and a serious institution require serious aesthetics. The use of a shiny cartoon figure to represent what is for Catholics a most holy season speaks of trivialization. And a glance into many Catholic shops reveals precisely the same lack of aesthetic sophistication typically associated with evangelical kitsch.

One might also ask what dogma and social teaching really mean when the church does little or nothing to enforce them. For example, the Pew Research Center indicates that most American Catholics (69%) do not believe in transubstantiation—the doctrine that the bread and wine literally transforms into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. The same data does show that observant Catholics do somewhat better, with 63% believing the church’s teaching on the Eucharist, though that still means that more than one in three of those who attend mass at least weekly reject the Church’s teaching on this most important sacrament. Yet the Church seems to take no substantive action.

And yes, John Paul II’s Theology of the Body is an outstanding contribution to Christian thought, with implications for how to understand love, marriage, sex, and gender. But when most Catholics do not agree with or abide by their Church’s teaching on contraception, and when so many leading Catholic politicians promote abortion and other radically anti-human policies with impunity, the picture is not an impressive one. Yes, there are serious churchmen, such as Archbishop Cordileone, who took a strong stand against Nancy Pelosi. But he and the others were immediately undermined by Francis himself. Does Rome take her dogmas seriously enough to do something about those who parade their deviations? It appears to not always be the case. Indeed, Francis often seems rather to indulge them as a means of showing contempt for those who do. Strange to tell, my friends who are cradle Catholics quietly acknowledge these realities. They love their church, but they see her faults and eschew triumphalism. Triumphalism, it seems, is more often the province of the intellectual converts. 

But the real issue for potential converts to contend with is one of truth. As John Henry Newman pointed out, Christianity is a dogmatic faith. That was why he swam the Tiber. To become a Catholic means to believe in the truth of the Church’s claims. Her connection to beauty and the life of the mind may be attractive, but beauty and intellectual accomplishment can be found elsewhere. Islam has its great poets such as Rumi and astounding intellectuals like Ibn Rushd, Ibn Sina, and Ibn Khaldun. But that does not justify conversion to Islam. The question of truth is critical, and the real issue with Catholicism is: are its dogmatic claims true? And what does that mean in practice? Surely if the truth is not believed and practiced, if the church’s claims are not manifested in her life, then all the beauty, all the cultural contributions, and all the intellectual achievements mean nothing.

The only reason to convert to Catholicism is that it is true. Anything else makes the move an act of cultural preference or political convenience. And that means believing in purgatory, in transubstantiation, in the Marian dogmas, and in the efficacy of relics. It means confessing to a priest and doing acts of penance. It means going to mass because it is true, not because the beauty of the liturgy is aesthetically pleasing. Deny those dogmas, or subordinate them to some cultural or political preference, and you are not really converting to Catholicism at all.

While I can’t speak to the true intentions of all converts, my suspicion is that much of the broader interest among intellectuals in Christianity, of which these Protestant converts to Rome are a small part, may prove to be more of a cultural or political phenomenon than a truly theological one. The real test will be the dogmatic one: will these intellectuals embrace not just the cultural heritage of Christianity but also its dogmas and its practices?

Conversion to Catholicism involves more than purchasing a few attractive cultural products with “Made in Rome” stamped on the bottom. True conversion to Rome involves embracing the whole phenomenon—dogmatic as well as aesthetic, penitential as well as liturgical, the often ugly and sinful practical reality along with the beautiful intellectual ideal. Many cradle Catholics understand that. Converts who do not are likely doomed to disillusionment.