The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [127]
After I spoke to my provincial, I had a worry more serious than mononucleosis: my future as a Jesuit. The next day I drove from the retreat house and told George the bad news. How could I accept the provincial’s ridiculous decision? What would I tell my friends and family, and especially my Jesuit friends, all of whom knew I was ready to begin theology studies? Was it a sign to leave the Jesuits?
George patiently led me through all the good things that had happened during my time in Kenya. The Jesuit Refugee Service had helped scores of refugees start their own businesses—we had sponsored woodcarvers, painters, basket makers, and dairy farmers; the refugees had set up tailoring shops, bakeries, carpentry shops, even a few Ethiopian restaurants and a chicken farm. After a year we opened up a small shop to market some of the refugee handicrafts. In the first few months the shop had made $50,000 for the refugees. Over the previous two years I had made many friends among the refugees and had given and received so much love. And my prayer as a Jesuit had been rich and satisfying in Kenya. George even reminded me of that consoling spiritual experience on the little hillside, on the way home from work, and of feeling I was in the right place.
“How can you doubt your vocation after this?” said George.
But I was adamant. The provincial’s decision was a sign that I should leave the Jesuits. Looking back, it seems clear that I was rapidly moving away from God and into despair, leaping from a delay in my training to leaving the Jesuits completely. The “enemy,” as Ignatius said, was at work—working on my pride and quickly moving me to despair and a rash decision.
“Jim,” said George, “how do you see your Jesuit formation?”
I didn’t understand him at all. Then he said something that changed my idea of the spiritual life.
“Is this just a series of hoops to jump through?” he asked. “Is it a ladder that you are climbing to get ahead?” He paused.
“Or is this how God is forming you?”
Embarrassed, I admitted that I had seen my formation as a series of hoops to jump through in order to reach the big goal: ordination. I still saw it more like work (where the goal was a promotion) or school (graduation). But maybe something bigger was going on. Maybe I really was being “formed” by God.
With George’s help I recognized something: the joy I experienced as a Jesuit for the previous two years had been real; I was called to be a Jesuit in the midst of all of that, and so I was also called to accept the provincial’s decision. God’s hand, so hard for me to see, must be at work. So I decided to stay.
After a few more conversations, the provincial assigned me for one year to a new task: to work at America magazine.
The provincial’s “bad” decision led me to my writing career. If it hadn’t been for his decision, which I vehemently opposed, you wouldn’t be reading this book. In retrospect, I can see how different my life would have been had I not been faithful to my vow of obedience.
Years later, I saw the former provincial at a Christmas gathering of Jesuits. By this point we were friends. But I had never talked with him about that time in Kenya.
“You know,” I said, “you were right all those years ago.”
“About what?” he said.
“About delaying my theology studies,” I said. “Looking back, I can see that I wasn’t ready. I was too unsettled and confused, and I wouldn’t have been able to enter into theology studies or think about ordination. Plus that year at America really changed my life. So, in retrospect, you were right.”
I expected him to say that now, with the benefit of hindsight, he could finally see the wisdom of his choice. Instead he laughed.
“Jim,” he said good-naturedly, “I knew I was right even then!”
THE REALITY OF THE SITUATION
So Jesuits make a vow of obedience. Big deal,