The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [102]
David was right. Not long after the novitiate I fell in love. The depth of my love and the passion I felt was unexpected, overwhelming, and confusing. For a few months I believed that this was the person with whom I could spend the rest of my life. It was both wonderful and terrible. Wonderful because I was in love and being loved. Terrible because continuing with the relationship would mean leaving the Jesuits.
In the midst of the turmoil, I met with my spiritual director. He listened to my story and then said nearly the same thing as David had. “Falling in love is part of being human, perhaps the most human thing you could do. It shows that you are a loving person. That’s a wonderful thing for anyone.” He paused. “But you have to decide what you want to do now. You are free to leave the Jesuits and pursue this relationship, or you are free to honor your commitment and end the relationship.”
After prayer, spiritual direction, and conversations with friends, I saw that though I had fallen in love, my overpowering desire was to remain committed to my vows. Leaving seemed appealing at times, but when I looked back over the years I saw how happy I was as a Jesuit. Also, I knew that I had flourished when living a life of chastity—not having one exclusive relationship, but many.
Like Ignatius, who sat on his sick bed and “discerned” his feelings about two paths in life, when I thought of leaving the Jesuits, I felt despair, frustration, and disquiet. When I thought of staying, I felt peaceful, hopeful, and uplifted. “Well that sounds clear enough!“ said a close friend at the time. ”You do believe in all that Ignatian stuff, don’t you?”
Falling in love enabled me to grow in wisdom about the heart and the head. It also furnished me with some insights into the human condition that have helped when counseling others. It helped me to become more, in a word, human.
Moreover, it helped me see that we are often presented with competing desires in life. In Ignatian spirituality we are asked to discern which is the greater desire, or the “governing desire.” Competing desires do not negate the choice that you have made: they simply make it more real. What married person does not occasionally feel the same? Who doesn’t feel the occasional pang of regret over a life-changing decision? The key is understanding your governing desire, as well as honoring your original commitment.
Chastity is not easy. The more loving you are, the more likely it is that you will fall in love, and the more likely it is that others will fall in love with you.
The life of religious chastity can also be lonely. No matter how many friends you have, how close you are to your family, how supportive your religious community is, and how satisfying your ministry is, you still have to face an empty bed at night. There is no one person with whom you can share good news, on whose shoulder you can cry, or on whom you can always count for a hug after a hard day. Single, divorced, or widowed men and women know this feeling too.
Charles M. Shelton, S.J., a professor of psychology at Regis University in Denver, put it this way in a recent conversation: “Whenever I speak to young Jesuits about chastity, I begin by saying that chastity means you will never be the most important person in anyone’s life. First, their faces get quizzical and then a number start to evince concern. After a few moments, I ask them if it’s okay that they’ll never be the most important person in someone’s life. Finally, I say that even if it is okay now, for every Jesuit there comes a time when this realization is felt acutely. It’s a good springboard to discuss the reality of the vow.”
Ultimately, as Shelton says, the vow becomes not something that you do, but something deeper. “In the novitiate, if someone asked