Excerpted from the May 1999 issue of Crisis magazinePatricia Ireland--not the leader of the National Organization of Women-- was raised Catholic, but while a student at Boston College during the late 70s and early 80s, she fell under the spell of well-known dissenting theologians Mary Daly (who eventually left the church) and Richard McBrien. Prompted by what she now says were "wrongly perceived justice issues," namely feminism and liberation theology, Ireland converted from Catholicism to Lutheranism, eventually becoming pastor of a thriving Lutheran churchin southern New Jersey.

Strangely enough, while performing her duties as clergywoman for a mainline Protestant denomination-the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America--with a liberal reputation, Ireland gradually found herself becoming ever more conservative in her theology. "I found that people wanted to hear more than 'I'm okay, you're okay,'" she says. "People really wanted to hear about sin and forgiveness. They were longing for the message that only the church can give." Her newfound orthodoxy left her increasingly disturbed with what she viewed as the overly accommodating moral positions of her Lutheran denomination, which--among other things--covers abortion procedures through the first 20 weeks of pregnancy as a health benefit for its clergy. This, along with Pope John Paul II's pro-life witness, prompted her to revisit the faith of her childhood. A careful study of the early church fathers convinced her that it was time to come back to Catholicism. "I wanted to be a part of the apostolic church again," Ireland says.

The huge post-Vatican II exodus of American Catholics to Protestantism is well known. Social surveys suggest that the Catholic Church has lost several million members to various Protestant churches, especially evangelical churches, over the last 30 years. Nevertheless, the demographic dynamic between Catholicism and Protestantism is in some ways shifting back--as Ireland's experience suggests.

"While a lot of people leave the Church, they tend not to be good Catholics," says Curtis Martin, president of the traditionalist organization Catholics United for the Faith, who himself returned to the Church after spending five years away as an evangelical Protestant. "[But] the Protestants [now] coming into the church are the most devoted Protestants, people deeply committed to Scripture and prayer. We're losing the numbers game but we are winning the quality game in spades."

He adds: "We're seeing the first signs of an avalanche of conversions and re-conversions." Indeed, there are signs that a growing stream of "reverts" (ex-ex-Catholics like Ireland, who now works with the Catholic campus ministry at Princeton University) and brand-new converts is flowing into the Church. In 1998, more than 88,000 Protestants were received into the Catholic Church. While the vast majority of these came into the church in order to join a Catholic spouse, the ranks of the "devoted"--converts--committed Protestants entering the Catholic Church strictly for religious reasons--is growing. Since 1990, more than 200 Protestant clergy have left their careers to embrace Catholicism, according to the Coming Home Network, Coming Home Network, a lay ministry serving Protestants interested in becoming Catholics.

What accounts for this not insignificant exodus from Protestantism to Catholicism at the turn of the millennium? The collapse of Protestant morality in American culture, the centrifugal drift of evangelical Protestantism as it subdivides constantly into competing churches, and the upward socioeconomic mobility of evangelical Protestants themselves have all played key roles.

Mainline Protestantism has given tacit, and sometimes explicit, approval to the poisonous fruits of the 1960s--from free love to feminism in its most radical manifestations. Although this accommodation strategy has devastated the theological and moral integrity of the mainline churches, it has, at least in one respect, served clearly providential purposes. For men and women of serious faith like Ireland, the moral and theological confusion they have found in mainline Protestantism is usually the reason they start thinking about heading to Rome.

Take Thomas Levergood, a Catholic convert who had once considered the Episcopal priesthood. "There are so many compromises with our culture, compromises that violate the fullness of truth, especially on moral issues, in the Episcopal Church," says Levergood, who is pursuing a doctorate at the University of Chicago. "Being around half-truths and lies awakens in you a hunger for the genuine truth."

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