According to dictionaries the word lapsed means ‘expired or no longer valid’. A lapsed Catholic however, is often defined as a mere spiritual backslider, a non-practitioner who, according to the church’s canonical law, forever remains a Catholic. Those brought up in the church will understand that even when you abandon faith, there are stubborn parts of Catholicism holding on. In Lapsed, Monica Dux explores this curious anchoring relationship with lively and droll humour, balanced with extensively researched explication of the world of Catholicism, its history and rules.
This book resonated deeply for me. Although I am somewhat older than the author, Monica’s Catholic upbringing is similar to my own ‘chronically Catholic’ one; full of rituals, rules, penitence, holy art, and endless masses. Lapsed brilliantly portrays Australian suburban Catholic life in the late 20th century. The church set your role models, regulated your tastes, dictated who you’d socialise with, and generally had endless expectations of you. But there was also the mystical side, full of miracles and visions, holy relics and transcendence of the ‘evil’ flesh. Stories of ‘uncorrupted’ saints’ bodies and wounded stigmatics, hyper-gory picture books and icons of tortured martyrs were laid upon our impressionable minds. We took it all in, at least for a while.
As you’d expect from a feminist social commentator, Dux has much to say about the damaging aspects of the patriarchal church, including the life of nuns, the appalling treatment of gay and transgender believers, the horrific institutional child abuse, and priests who literally seem themselves as God Almighty made flesh. And then there is the mess of hardlines on abortion, contraception and women’s rights. Dux supports many personal (and fair) observations with rigorous research and hundreds of cited sources, and many of these facts will startle and bemuse the reader.
The dichotomy of dark and light, of evil centred within the holy, is one of the powerful aspects of Lapsed. Much of Catholic orthodoxy is odd to non-believers, but this book goes beyond cheap shots to look at an institution and shared experience. The author lays bare the machinations behind core beliefs and asks why she still holds on to bits of Catholicism. Is it because of family obligations and tradition? Is it the seductive paraphernalia of childhood comfort and belonging? Is turning your back on your religion an act of affirmation, a stronger moral calling than mere acquiescence? The underlying seam of these questions (of course) is the ever-present Catholic guilt in asking. Dux not only looks ahead, but casts an eye on the legacy she cannot erase.
The heavier aspects of this book are softened by the many candid family tales Monica delivers. Sharply observed and very funny, this is a book I didn’t expect but needed. Many Australian Catholic families are like the Dux’s, but I’d wager that not many are this frank. This is a deeply personal journey that Monica has invited us on, but it is similar to the path of many of the lapsed; from impertinent adolescent questioning through to settling philosophical maturity. The difference with her story is that Monica’s self-examination is both relentless and honest (perhaps itself a legacy of Catholic confession?). Ex-Catholics will recognise the scars and nod knowingly, but there is much more to this thoughtful book. Dux’s handling of her children’s religious curiosity is particularly touching and indeed the role of the loving family is core to the book’s narrative as the author sees Catholic family values as a distinctive marker of the breed. This is a rich mix.
Lapsed leaves you thinking about your own shaping and moral stance, and that of your family. If you were once a Catholic, or you love a lapsed one, you need to read this book. It is a great conversation starter.
—Lapsed by Monica Dux (ABC Books) is out now.

Lapsed
Losing your religion is harder than it looks ...
From devout ten-year-old performing the part of Jesus in a primary school play to blaspheming, undergraduate atheist, Monica Dux and her attitude to the Catholic Church changed profoundly over a decade. Eventually, she calmed down and was just 'lapsed'. Then, on a family trip to Rome, her young daughter expressed a desire to be baptised. Monica found herself re-examining her own childhood and how Catholicism had shaped her. Was it really out of her system or was it in her blood for life?...
About the Contributor
Robert O'Hearn
Robert O'Hearn is the non-fiction specialist at Booktopia HQ. He has been a bookseller for over three decades and can't seem to stop. He is an aspiring apiarist and likes playing Joy Division songs on mandolin. He is generally harmless.
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Comments
April 21, 2021 at 6:35 pm
Great review, Robert. I agree wholeheartedly with your comments on Monica’s candid, thoughtful and courageous book. It resonated so strongly for me and helped me to galvanise my thoughts on ways that were genuinely liberating.
April 22, 2021 at 12:17 pm
Thanks Angela, yes Monica’s book makes you think deeply about life, families, identity, and of course Catholicism, within the flux of a changing world. So much in it! Lots of nostalgia too.