The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [144]
In all these cases a decision was made, and though someone might not compare his or her experience with St. Paul’s, it could not be doubted. In a sense, the answer comes as soon as the question is asked.
The eventual decision to enter a religious order was something like that for me. In an earlier chapter I mentioned returning home one night after work and stumbling upon a documentary on Thomas Merton, which led me to enter a religious order. Looking back, it was a decision made in the First Time.
At the time I was working for General Electric in Stamford, Connecticut, in human resources. When I arrived at my apartment one night, which I shared with two friends, it was nearing 9:00 p.m. After changing out of my business clothes, I rummaged around the refrigerator for some leftovers, popped a plate of old spaghetti in the microwave, sat down in front of the television, and started flipping through the channels.
Presently, I stumbled upon a documentary about a Trappist monk I had never heard of. All sorts of people—musicians, writers, scholars—appeared on screen to testify to the influence that he had in their lives. The program detailed Thomas Merton’s long process of conversion, from lonely boy to rebellious college student to aimless grad student to brand-new Catholic to, finally, Trappist monk. But the most arresting part of the show was not the story, but the photographs of Merton. His face radiated a kind of serenity that was unknown to me and that called to me.
The next day, I tracked down and began reading Merton’s autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain. When I finished the book late one night, it dawned on me that I wanted to do what Merton had done in the 1940s: leave behind a life of confusion and join a religious order. (Little did I know that life in a religious order is not free of confusion.) Over time I learned more about the Jesuits, the religious order that seemed to suit me best.
Still, though the desire to join a religious order was born on that evening, I resisted it. It would take two years before I was able to see it with absolute clarity. After I buried myself once again in work, the thought of entering religious life lay dormant in my soul, like a seed ready to sprout—as soon as it received some water.
Eventually someone—a psychologist I was seeing because I was so stressed at work—watered that seed. He asked me a question that helped me to name my desire. One day I was complaining to him about my job. It wasn’t satisfying, wasn’t enjoyable, and wasn’t something I could see doing for more than a few more years.
Finally he said, “What would you do, if you could do anything you wanted to do?”
The answer came as if it had been waiting there all my life. “That’s easy,” I said. “I would become a Jesuit priest!”
And he said, “Well, why don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, “why don’t I?”
The path to the Jesuits suddenly became clear. While I knew little about the Jesuits, and even less about the application process, I knew for sure that I wanted to join up immediately. It was a real Aha! moment. As with St. Paul, it was as if “something like scales” fell from my eyes. As Ignatius says, I neither doubted nor was able to doubt. Everything fell into place and a few months later I entered the Jesuit novitiate. It was the best decision I’ve ever made and also one of the few occasions when I experienced making a decision in the First Time.
The Second Time
The Second Time is less clear. It is not love at first sight. It’s not like being bowled over by clarity à la St. Paul. It’s less of an Aha! moment. It requires some deliberation.
In the Second Time you may not be completely sure, at least initially. Contrary forces and desires seem to