Just recently, part of my spiritual journey was introduced to a Catechesis class. I was honored. But there’s more to the story. You see, I became a Catholic in 2001 and the circumstances surrounding my conversion were a small miracle in the truest sense. That can’t be overemphasized. But I was a tough nut to crack and ultimately, it took a couple of whacks to bring me home to the Catholic Church.
As I reflect back on my “pagan” days, I used to wake up every morning subconsciously hungering for the four gods of Aquinas––wealth, pleasure, power and honor. In my selfish mind, a day would not be complete unless I somehow roped one of them. Would I have articulated this? Not at all. But these temptations were my engine, my raison d’être.
I’ve joked before that you’re more likely to see a Volkswagen tap dance than a saint emerge from Hollywood. Well, my miracle may not be equivalent to a Bojangling compact, my zip code was off by a digit and I’m no saint, but on one particular life-changing day, God intervened.
As a non-believing, God-apathetic, skirt-chasing hellraiser, I had just finished writing my first screenplay. It made the rounds of producers and directors and was well received. The plot dealt with racism and terrorism and the script ultimately was considered too controversial. At the time, the head literary agent of a major Hollywood talent agency represented me and said I should immediately begin to write another screenplay.
