Padre Pio Et. Al.

On Sunday I went to my old parish to see an Italian film about the life of Padre Pio, a Saint probably most famous for his Stigmata. He's quite inspiring. But that's not what I'm going to write about.

Over a decade ago, I attended the ordination of a young man, Father T. Some time later, he was assigned to the church across the street, so I had numerous occasions to see him in his ministry. He is a good priest, and as we watched his congregation change that became ever clearer. I had him pegged as an excellent bishop in the future (he was trilingual, and who knows how far the Italian he learned so well could have taken him, politically?). He was well positioned to climb the ecclesiastical ladder, and he seemed to be a good pastor.

Anyway, he's been really sick. But I found out on Sunday that he intends to leave the priesthood.

I think that's always a shocking thing to hear. In the deepest sense, it isn't even possible: once you've been ordained, there's no going back, and you're a priest forever. I can't begin to imagine what it feels like. There must be such a sense of defeat, in a way, that you can't follow on the path you've chosen. What are you admitting to yourself? Does it mean you have to admit you never had a vocation? I think that's simplistic. God doesn't lead you through it for nothing, nor does the Church call and endorse you without reason. They also don't release you into laicisation without grave reason. Transitioning out of the priesthood bespeaks great inner torment. To be released from your vows is no easy thing...I think probably even harder than taking them in the first place.

Who can know what God wants with certainty? I do know how difficult listening to God can be. That He speaks and what He says can cause great turmoil in the heart, and also a great deal of doubt (ironically). As I continue my journey, I better understand what it means to be faced with the certainty that the life I once planned is no longer possible, that the people and community I believed I would be with forever can no longer be my home. I understand what it's like to give up things I have cherished and that were comfortable in search of something I don't understand; to choose uncertainty and doubt. I know what it feels like to disappoint the people who wish everything could stay the same. Still, I can't pretend to know what he's feeling. It really makes you stop and see that, when it comes to relationship with God, nothing is certain except that He loves you.

And sometimes the form that love takes is painful and complicated, heartbroken, and full of doubt.