Reasons for Leaving the Church of Rome

by Laurence J. Nolan

Perhaps it would be asserted by some, that my present change is the effect of the moment—that it originates from whim or caprice, and is not the result of coolness and reflection. But, my friends, the months that have passed by since the first open avowal of my sentiments to my then Roman Catholic Bishop, in the presence of another Roman Catholic Clergyman, would serve as an answer to such accusations; while my written as well as personal communications upon this subject, with the truly pious and Protestant Rector of Castletowndelvin, long previous to the open announcement of my sentiments to my bishop, must falsify the assertion, that “this change is the result of the moment.” Allow me also to tell you, that I have mentioned my past doubts, not only months, but years ago, to a near relation, who summed up many a plausible argument to dissuade me from that course, which, I trust, under the guidance of heaven I have now adopted: and what is more, in compliance with the request of my late friends, I have gone to some of the most distinguished members of the Roman religion, to explain to them my doubts; but their mystified evasions upon plain and evident truths, have only tended to confirm me in the conviction of their errors.

Oh, my friends, my present change is not the effect of the moment, but it is the effect of a mind that has overcome an almost invincible prejudice—a prejudice that grew up with my youthful days—that accompanied my more mature years, and had nearly interwoven itself around the future destinies of my soul. It is the effect of a mind that has taken impartiality for its guide, and looked upon truth as the sole object of its ambition—a mind that has ruminated day and night upon the subject—that has viewed both sides of the question coolly, attentively, and I trust religiously, and has now come to this determination, which is founded on a consciousness of its rectitude. During those hours of darkness, when “sleep falleth upon man”—when others were taking that repose to which the silence of the night or exhausted nature might invite them—I trust it is not too much the language of egotism for me to say, that during the silent hours, when thinking of my present change, I had often bedewed the nightly pillow with the tears of affliction—“my eye-lids had grown dim with grief”—my nights were turned into day because of my watching—and I could find no rest until I obeyed the advice of the Psalmist, saying, “To-day if yon will hear his voice—harden not your hearts.” Psalm xcv. 7–8.

There was a period of time which does not require much aid from memory to bring to your recollection, when political turmoil had diffused itself over the face of this country—when the feelings of charity seemed more or less suspended, and violence of language was frequently resorted to as the surest mode of pleasing—a time when a state of indifference was looked on as highly criminal, and when, even persons in the sacerdotal character, had sometimes recourse to political harangues, as a digest for religious instruction from the altar. At that time many through motives, perhaps, of ambition—others through a desire of vain glory—while some through a conviction of its utility, engaged in the political struggles of the day; and though it may be painful to my feelings to advert to such a period, still I feel bound to acknowledge, that a mistaken zeal for religion, unaccompanied with the experience of wiser days, urged me on as no idle spectator of the scene. But, blessed be God for all things—when my mind turned upon the serious question of religion—when I looked upon the book of God as the sole standard of my faith—when I began to view, through the medium of impartiality, the important subject of my eternal salvation, my mind became the more enlarged, and my thoughts the more expanded by the occurrence. Doubt followed doubt—my prejudices began to vanish beneath the sunshine of a more liberal knowledge—the elements of darkness became at length superseded by the glorious principles of unerring light—while the effulgence of that religion, which I had so often misrepresented through life, pierced through the mystic veil, in which my mind was enveloped, leaving me the consolation upon this day of being addressed by my Protestant brethren in the language of the Apostle—“That he which persecuted us in times past, now preacheth the faith which once he destroyed.” Gal. i. 23.

There are some, perhaps, who, if similarly situated as I am, would prefer the private moment to the public hour for making an open avowal of their sentiments; but I have considered it to be the imperative, the indispensable duty of a true convert in Jesus, to act in conformity with the advice of the Scriptures, “by raising his voice like a trumpet to strengthen his brethren, and to shew the people their errors.” Yes; and though the opprobrious epithets of “renegade to the religion of my youth, and apostate from the faith of my fathers,” may be annexed to my present conviction of soul, still, as St. Paul gloried in the titles of fool, madman, and apostate, with which disbelief upbraided him on his conversion to Christianity, so shall I glory in similar appellations, “for I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ.”

I know, my friends, that among your community there are Roman Catholic Clergymen who possess the same conviction of soul that I do, as to the errors of your religion; but the worldly considerations of present ease and anticipated troubles, prevent their due exercise of conscience. The unmerited epithet of apostacy alarms them—the thoughts of separating from worldly comforts, from present friends and relations, strike horror into their souls—and thus it is that those cares of passing life supersede the concerns of their eternal welfare.—But will they go to the tomb with the consciousness of such errors as their accompaniment?—and for those transitory objects will they destroy that soul which is to be the heir of immortality? Oh! let them come forth. That hand which provideth food for the ravens of the air, will also provide for us, and God will be our defence—“for God is a shield to those that put their trust in him.”

My friends, many of you ask each other, how is it possible that the Rev. Mr. Nolan, who has spent so many years at his academical and collegiate course, and upon whose education so much money and pains had been expended, should only now become a convert to the Protestant religion? This is a general question among you all. It was proposed to me a few days ago at an hotel in Dublin, by a respectable Roman Catholic, one of the very few, of that persuasion, that has conversed with me since my change from the Church of Rome. But the answer to such a question is obvious. The human mind in this instance may be compared to the human body; for as it advances in years, it increases in strength; so that some of these doctrines which were so carefully inculcated during the time of youth, may afterwards, when placed before the test of wiser days and better experience, appear in all the inconsistency of their formation.

Take a short view of the life of an individual who may be destined from his infancy to discharge the priestly functions, and your surprise cannot be excited at my deferring my conversion thus long. Scarcely is the infant tongue formed to expression, when it is taught to pronounce the names of the Roman doctrines; and scarcely is the developement of the human mind discovered, when the principles of these doctrines are most carefully introduced; and then, like the young Scion of the land, or the tender flower of the field, the youthful mind becomes susceptible of the first impression. The anxious watchings of affectionate but misguided parents; the successful examples of employed attendants, and the well paid services of wily or deluded instructors, all combine in confirming those opinions which error had implanted. The individual enters upon his academical course. There his mind, as to Scriptural knowledge, is scarcely enlarged by the change; for, if he hears of any reference to the book of life, it is only for a partial selection of bare and isolated texts, that may be calculated to uphold the members of one religion, and misrepresent the abettors of another. Thus enveloped in unscriptural darkness, the individual enters into the collegiate department as the last preparation for his missionary labors. But here, also, the advantages of Scriptural knowledge become partially contracted; for that time which should be occupied in searching the word of God, is nearly engrossed with what are called the quibbles of a moral theology. Such, my friends, you know to be the description of him whose means would allow a similar preparation for the priesthood; and as such it is perfectly applicable to him who is the writer of these lines. Such were the difficulties I had to encounter—such were the prejudices I had to combat—and such must be my apology for the deferring of my conversion those years back. It was only when placing my hand on the Bible, and saying that its contents should form the ground-work of my faith, the bulwark of my salvation; it was only then the spirit of God had entered into my heart, giving me both the understanding to perceive, and the courage to acknowledge my error. May the same spirit guide you into a similar perception of your errors, and a similar fearlessness as to their acknowledgement.

SECOND PART.

Having mentioned, my friends, in the preceding part of this pamphlet the kindness you had always exercised towards me—the worldly comforts I could enjoy by remaining in your church, and the difficulties I must now encounter by separating from your communion, I will submit to you in the two subsequent parts of my pamphlet, some of the reasons that have influenced my conduct upon so important a change in life. I will not dwell, however, upon those doctrines, with which, from your want of Scriptural knowledge, you are but little acquainted: and though I do not now detain you on the doctrine of Justification by Faith, still you must admit, as the Apostle says, “that without faith it is impossible to please God.” Therefore no act of ours can be considered as good or acceptable in the sight of God, except faith be its foundation. Again, no matter how good or acceptable those works may be in the sight of God, still they cannot be said to merit salvation; for it is mentioned in the 2d chap. 8th and 9th verses of the Ephesians—“By grace are you saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast;” and therefore it is not according to our own merits, but through the merits of Jesus Christ, that salvation can be acquired. But, my friends, this does not exclude the necessity of good works upon our part, for our good works must be conformable to our faith in Christ, of which they are the external evidence.

I will not dwell either, upon the doctrine of Infallibility, so falsely claimed by the Church of Rome, as it would require more than the compass of this pamphlet would allow, to make its name even intelligible to most of you; although I might briefly hint at the wild supposition of a few fallible beings meeting together and constituting an infallibility; as much as to say, that a compound of any thing may contain that which is essentially different from its parts, which appears to me as most extravagant.