The
Rev. James Martin, a Jesuit priest, is editor at large of America magazine and
author of the new book "Jesus: A Pilgrimage" (HarperOne).
Here's a confession: I can never preside
at a baptism without conjuring the scene from the "The Godfather" in
which Michael Corleone rubs out all his enemies.
Thank
you, Francis Ford Coppola.
If you're looking for juicier
confessions -- that is, admissions of the kinds of sins unearthed on detective
shows or reality TV -- then you'll want to look elsewhere. My sinning life is
rather uneventful. Continue..
But if
you want to hear what it's really like to be a Catholic priest, read on.
This may
disappoint some readers, but I love being a Catholic priest. And I'm not alone.
Survey after survey, year after year, shows that the priesthood is among the
most satisfying of jobs.
Now, I
need to distinguish between being a member of a religious order, which I am
(the Society of Jesus, aka the Jesuits) and being a priest.
While
many people conflate the two, you can be in a men's religious order and not be
ordained. In the Jesuits, as in orders like the Franciscans, Benedictines and
Dominicans, we have brothers, who are not ordained. In a religious order,
priesthood is an outgrowth of your original vocation to the order. In other
words, being a priest flows out of my being a Jesuit.
But even though I don't work
full-time at a parish, as other priests do, I am a priest like all other
priests. I celebrate Masses, hear confessions, preside at baptisms, weddings
and funerals, and do all the "sacramental" things priests do.
So let's
start with the most enjoyable part of being a priest: being invited into
people's lives.
Think of
just three moments of deep joy and deep sorrow in life: a wedding, a baptism
and a funeral. You're invited to participate in each of those moments with all
manner of people -- from families and friends you've known for years to nearly
complete strangers. By virtue of your priesthood, you're sharing people's most
important moments.
Now, as
most people know, wedding preparations can be time-consuming and often
stressful affairs. The playful joke among priests is, "Give me ten
baptisms for one wedding!"
But it is
deeply moving to stand beside two young people and watch them profess their
love for one another in a public way. I often laugh when, after the Mass or
during the reception, they express their gratitude for the privilege they have
given me!
Years
later, you may be invited to celebrate with them the baptism of their child,
and welcome the child into the Christian faith.
I've
always loved saying the words of Catholic baptism, "The Christian
community welcomes you with great joy." I think of all the years to come,
when the child will find nourishment in the church. What will the church mean
to this child? And what will this child mean to the church?
At a
funeral, on the other hand, you're invited into a dark time, but also one in
which you can offer consolation. The byword among priests is that while not
many people pay attention to the homily at weddings or baptisms (they're
usually staring at the bride's dress or waving at the baby), everyone wants to
hear what you're going to say at a funeral.
People
are longing for a word of comfort, and I'm grateful to remind them of the hope
of eternal life. God, I always say, would never destroy the relationship that
God has with each of us.
It's hard
to overstate how moving all this is. But it goes beyond these peak events.
Most Catholics feel at ease
discussing the most personal aspects of their lives with priests. Whether in
spiritual direction, pastoral counseling, confession or just one-on-one
conversations, you witness the beauty of people's lives. So, day by day, you
see how people struggle. You see how they try to love. You see how holy they
are.
Perhaps
at no other time is this truer than during confession, formally known as the
sacrament of reconciliation.
One thing
that priests often say about confession is that unlike, say, therapy, people
quickly get to the heart of the matter in confession. And people are usually
brutally honest. (Otherwise, why would they come?) How wonderful it is to see
God's grace work within them and to offer them a word of forgiveness on God's
behalf.
Some
people say that they don't need a priest to offer them forgiveness. And,
besides, it's God who is doing the forgiving -- which is true. But take my word
for it, from my experience both as one who confesses and one who hears
confessions: Hearing the words of absolution, which are said on God's behalf,
can be incredibly healing for people.
And for
those who have been away from the church for many years, what a joy it is to
say two words to them: "Welcome back!"
Being a
priest is not a perfect life -- obviously. What life is? Celibacy is not the
easiest path. Overall, it works for me. As I see it, it means loving many
people deeply and freely. (Not that others can't love freely and deeply, but
this is the way I do it.)
But living without physical
intimacy can be difficult. And being a priest in the wake of the sexual abuse
crisis was profoundly demoralizing. But no life is perfect -- married, or
single or divorced. There are joys and hopes, and griefs and struggles, in each
life.
Being a
Jesuit priest works for me. As the Trappist monk Thomas Merton wrote about his
own ordination, it feels like the "one great secret for which I was
born."
I've not
even mentioned the other joys of priesthood -- celebrating Mass, preaching
about the Gospel, and yes, even anointing the sick. Each of these moments
brings me into a relationship not only with God, but with my fellow human
beings in a deeper way.
In these
moments I often think of what Mary's cousin Elizabeth says in the Gospel of
Luke. Mary has just learned that she is pregnant with Jesus, and she rushes to
tell her cousin.
"And
why has this happened to me," Elizabeth says, "that the mother of my
Lord should come to me?"
In other
words, "Who am I that this should happen to me?"
I think
about that often as a priest. Who am I that I should be invited into people's
lives like this? All I know is this: it is a blessing I cannot fully comprehend
or explain.
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