new world
Interview

The Shape that Love Takes
Amidst a flurry of activity–including writing articles, debating, and a passionate involvement in  politics–she wanted to “flush out the metaphysics of atheism,” starting with discovering the origins of moral law. At only 21 years old, LEAH LIBRESCO was the most prominent atheist blogger on the Web. Then, something new entered her life–or better, Someone new entered... This is the story of what happened to her, and how a friend's question changed her life.

by Suzanne Tanzi

Sporting a rare blend of intelligence, humility, and humor–with a true hipster flair–Leah Libresco is not the kind of person you meet every day. Her 22-year-old spirit of charismatic charm and generous attention are full of insight, and random remarks are met with enthusiastic and corroborated agreement–or gently incisive rebuttal. Friends quickly learn that, for Leah, everything matters. Her newfound fame (“Top Atheist Blogger Converts”) has not hitched her fast stride toward discovery: “Truth, beauty, and goodness are one!” A self-described “math nerd,” Leah recently graduated from Yale University with a BA in Political Science. While at the university, she wrote for her own religion blog and for the Huffington Post and the Yale Daily News, and was President of the Yale Political Union, whose debates truly captured her passion for exploration among peers. She continues the blogging and writing (for First Things, among others) as well as YPU alumni debate. An incredibly free spirit in a changing world, Leah discusses her conversion, her views, and her life in an interview with Traces that begins with her intoning one of her favorite composers, Jason Robert Brown: “And I feel that it led me right to your side...” and ends with a burst from The Messiah: “He shall purify the sons of Levi...” Open to life’s surprising clues, she exclaims, “I’m all references right now!”

Leah, you credit your involvement with the Yale Political Union for your conversion to Catholicism. How did it happen?
One thing that happened, both while I was an undergrad and when I returned for alumni debates, is that I noticed, if you didn’t know everyone’s religious beliefs, but you were just trying to group speakers according to similar ideas, you’d probably lump me in with the Catholics. And I thought this was “data,” which weakly supported the idea I might need to convert, but it wasn’t enough. Yet it was clearly enough to catch the attention of some of the other people in my debate circle. The more I talked about virtue ethics, objective moral law, and proper authority, the more often people hissed, “Convert already!” during my speeches. And these were fellow atheists! Catholic theology certainly had ways to generate the moral law I believed in, but conceding on those grounds was the coward’s way out. You can’t believe in God instrumentally, just to reduce confusion in your philosophy.

Aside from debate, how else were you exploring this?
While I was an undergraduate, I started dating a nice Catholic boy (also from debate) and religion was one of several things we’d argue about. We formed a two-person bookclub–he gave me Chesterton, Lewis, etc., but I was having trouble finding books to pass back, since a lot of atheist writing isn’t primarily about philosophy, and I disagreed with some of the ones that were. In fairness, a lot of big-name atheist writers–Dawkins and Dennett and others–are writing more on science than philosophy for a reason. When basic science claims and classes are under attack, you don’t have the mental breathing space to tackle metaphysics. I ended up creating a blog called “Unequally Yoked”–taken from 2 Corinthians: “Be not unequally yoked with unbelievers.” This was meant to take some of the pressure off my then-boyfriend to be the “avatar of Catholicsm” and to let me try and recruit and/or spar with some more people ostensibly on my side. In addition to reading and blogging, I had struck a deal with my boyfriend that I would go to Mass every week that he went to ballroom dance class with me. I assumed I had the best of the deal, since he was becoming a proficient waltzer. The best I could do regarding prayer was a variant on the rationalist Litany of Tarski: “If there exists a God, I desire to believe that there exists a God. If there does not exist a God, I desire to believe that there does not exist a God. Let me not become attached to beliefs I may not want.”

How did things change at the spring alumni debate in 2012?
I had come up to Yale for a debate on “Resolved: Nationalize the Curriculum.” YPC debate speeches tend to unreel around a theme, rather than a pro and con face off.  And, once again, my arguments tracked those of the Catholics bizarrely well. Afterwards, I grabbed Ben, a Christian friend, and said, “Ben! Every time I come up for alum debates, I wonder a little whether I should convert, and I find this very confusing!” He responded, “That is an unusual problem. Want to talk about it?” So we ended up having a four-hour (or so) conversation.

What was the drama of that moment?
The real problem for me was making sense of moral law. I was really sure that morality existed the way that math does–human independent, but able to be glimpsed, and profoundly beautiful–but I was having trouble making it work in an atheist metaphysics. I kept catching myself talking as though morality existed in the world of Forms, which didn’t explain how it was we managed to spot or study it “all the way up there.” Ben kept pressing me on this point. I had talked about why I didn’t think the model of Platonic Forms worked, or the arguments from evolutionary psychology, and he said, “You’re talking mostly about things you don’t think. Is there anything you do think?” My completely unexpected response was, “Well, I guess Morality just loves me or something!” These words stunned us both. Here I was, desperately trying to figure out how to get “up there,” and... it came down to me here!

Something new entered in...
Well, it seemed like the spirit of the Incarnation. It is not just about abstract moral law as a theory but a Person who cares about me. Often when working on math or writing a speech I see the logic of it all at once–I don’t have all the details yet but I see how it all fits together. That is how I felt when I said those words; I had that sense of coherence, as well as a very surprising warmth within me–an unexpected spiritual consolation, I would say.

What did you do then?
We prayed Night Office–something I do to this day–then we put on Mumford and Sons, and I told two other friends (one of them the ex-boyfriend) what had happened. This was March 31, 2012, the day before Palm Sunday. I entered RCIA that summer and, the following November, I was baptized into the Catholic Church.

How did your atheist friends take the news and did your friendships suffer for it?
I have not lost a single friend over this! A lot of my friends are from my debate culture, in which conceding something for good reasons is not a sign of weakness but a sign of strength. It’s great to be part of a community that thinks it’s more important to be right than to appear right. Most of society teaches us to flinch away from noticing or admitting an error.

Were there any conflicts?
There’s been plenty of disagreement, of course–we had a three-hour fight while eating cake at the party where I made the general announcement. Some of my post-modernist and nihilist friends think I went wrong by asking incoherent questions about morality. For them, asking, “What grounds morality?” is a badly formed question, like asking, “What color is triangle?” What they really disagree with is my original question, not the chain of implications I followed.

Where does your family stand with all of this?
My parents are both college professors, and they’re both fiercely intellectually curious. They taught me to be tenacious, and keep asking questions, which is what has brought me here. Mind you, they’re still a bit baffled by the answer I’ve come up with, but that’s just another avenue for discussion. And my mom even read back through all two and a half years of archived posts on my blog to try to piece together my reasoning.

It sounds like your job as an education consultant really corresponds to you...
I am doing a lot of teaching and talking–my cup runneth over! My company’s goal is “refining the art of human rationality.” Some people have asked whether that causes any tension for my faith, but I don’t think so–truth, beauty, and goodness are one!

How was it to enter the Church when the year before you were an atheist?
I chose St. Augustine as my Confirmation saint: “We are restless until we rest in Thee.” I liked having a Confirmation saint who, like me, was also tempted by Gnosticism–but he did not succumb! This is what I like about apophatic theology and the via negativa: the way of growth in awareness of Christ can happen through looking at what is chafing me. Whatever is discomfiting can point me to the next step I need to make toward God.

What surprised you the most on this new road?
I didn’t expect Confession to be the most moving sacrament for me. I thought of it as a kind of awful ’fessing up to what you’ve done, feeling ashamed. But the terrible thing has already happened–confessing it doesn’t ratify it or make it more real. The wound already exists, and Confession is the moment you become willing to accept healing and begin to change. Even the scar that remains is a mark of where God’s healing power touched you. I was surprised to be so jazzed about Confession!

Has there been a change in the way you face daily life?
I definitely have more trust that it is not only my own strength at work. I love the scene of Peter walking on the water toward Christ and, when he doubts, starting to sink. I can picture him flopping and flailing in the water toward Christ. He doesn’t really know what to do, but he knows Whom he’s trying to reach.  I am not really good at being a Christian, but I am flailing toward Christ. That is what the Year of the Faith is for me: thrashing... I know, all my metaphors are violent! But when you are loved, the situation cannot remain static. The shape that love takes is transfiguration.