I can’t quite put my finger on it. When was the moment I was converted? Was it after a friend, whose virtues stood as a witness to the supernatural grace of God, unexpectedly forgave me with true Christian charity, despite all the injury I’d done him? Was it after being moved by the magnificence and soul-striking beauty of Florence and Venice, or the peaceful reverence of an Andalusian mountain town on a Sunday? Or was it rather upon the encounter with Holy Mother Church’s rich wellspring of truthful and sensical philosophy and theology?