An Orthodox Argument against the Catholic Church Considered

The argument is not an important one in the grand scheme of things, but I see it thrown around so much that I think it’s time somebody said something about it.  The argument goes like this:  Orthodox churches have better liturgy, and a good community life.  All people who attend Orthodox liturgies are faithful to the Traditions of their Church, and all of them practice ascesis on a regular basis.  Catholics, on the other hand, have a mixed bag of liturgies, a mix community life, and have catechetical problems while simultaneously having few church-goers practice ascesis with a proper degree of severity.  Orthodoxy seems like it has less problems than the Catholic Church, and while the number of people who go to Liturgies is small, the people who go are very faithful.  Catholicism cannot make that claim, and it’s liturgical, doctrinal, and ascetic life are a mess. 

At first, it seems like a pretty powerful argument:  Orthodoxy seems to be a better saint producing machine than Catholicism.  Still others claim that it shows that the Catholic Church is slowly going down the toilet, whereas the Orthodox Church, free from doctrinal dissent, is held up as a model of Truth in all its splendor.  And yet, the picture is not so rosy as it first seems. 

First, for the smaller points regarding ascesis.  In America, the Orthodox have the advantage of being able to complain more: large communions of people tend to be less tight-knit than smaller groups.  It’s just a brute sociological fact that smaller communities are closer communities.  There is a good reason why the early Church was able to be so successful in having such a large percentage of her members live a full, Christian life. In addition, the faults of larger groups are much more readily apparent to the public eye than private ones. If the Orthodox in America had massive, fish frys (which sometimes seem to defeat the purpose of meatless Fridays of penance) or other practices which seem to miss the point of Lent, I wouldn’t know about them because I don’t see many Orthodox parishes. Consequently, all of the Orthodox in America can get on their soapbox and complain about how terrible their larger group of cousins behave.   

And yet, is the Orthodox Church any better in Russia, where the number of Orthodox practictioners is much greater?  Is the Orthodox Church making a large number of saints out of the 80% of the population that calls themselves Orthodox?  Certainly not: the masses of people who claim to be Orthodox in heavily Orthodox areas are just as lazy and lukewarm in their faith as lukewarm Catholics in America. Greater emphasis on ascesis among the Orthodox?  In some ways, yes; in others, no. Whenever a church is heavily based on converts entering into already small communions like the Orthodox communion is in the United States, of course the ascetic practices of its members are going to be greater.  On the other hand, no matter what the Orthodox may stress, a large chunk of any large population will ignore the requests of priests to perform self-sacrifices, or fail to push themselves as hard as they should. And there just aren’t enough priests around to be looking over everyone’s shoulders to gently nudge his people to take their penances further, or study the lives of the saints more frequently, etc.  There will be more on this in the following paragraphs.

Next, the complaint is that America is having doctrinal problems.  Let’s go back to Russia for a minute.  Last time I looked at the statistics, 2% of the population goes to church every Sunday, and 2% of the population practices ascesis (I generously interpret those stats to mean that 100% of that 2% are faithful, practicing Orthodox).  And yet, 80% of the people in Russia call themselves Orthodox.  In America, we have the same percentage of nominal Catholics and practicing Catholics, but more people going to Mass every week:  30% of our people go to Mass every week, and, while I don’t have numbers on who practices ascesis, 5-10% of Catholics oppose birth control (which seems like a pretty decent indicator of who is faithful and obedient to the Church and who is not).  So really, both sides are producing the same number of faithful Christians (percentage wise), which is outstanding giving the respective anti-Christian societies that Russia and America have.  But if both Churches have such a small percentage of their flock that actually heed and obey the teachings of their Churches, why is it such a bad thing for Catholics to also have so many of those lukewarm sheep coming to Mass every Sunday?  At least we have 30% of the population going to Mass on Sundays.  

Many people in the pews are uneducated in regards to the faith, granted; but as I think I’ve indicated–and I have no doubt further research would confirm–the Orthodox have just as many people who claim to be Orthodox, and yet are uneducated and lukewarm.  Why does no one accuse them of having doctrinal problems?  Don’t they have the same percentage of lukewarm adherents?  The only difference between the Catholic unfaithful and the Orthodox unfaithful is that a large chunk of Catholic unfaithful go to Mass every Sunday.  So…why is that such a bad thing?  If a small Orthodox parish suddenly has 300 lukewarm, sinful, fallen sheep come to their parish every Sunday for Mass, would they not be happy at this chance to evangelize?  Would the Orthodox prefer them not to come to celebrate the Eucharist every Sunday because these lost sheep did not yet practice the Orthodox praxis to the fullest of their abilities? 

Unfortunately, educated Catholic laymen and priests are not doing enough to educate their lost sheep, a situation which must be rectified; however, we have that golden opportunity to get people involved, an opportunity which the Orthodox in both Russia and America do not have.  The very fact that we have a bunch of near-pagan butts in the pews means we have a harvest of near-pagans ready to be harvested by Jesus.  In my large home parish of 2500 families, I’ve seen many-a lukewarm Catholic come back to a fuller faith because they were invited to do so and were taught how to practice the faith.  The very fact that they are present at Mass gives faithful, holy men and women a chance to show them the love of Christ.

So in conclusion:  I think it is a bad argument to say that the Orthodox are producing better quality individuals than the Catholic Church.  I also think that it is unfair to accuse Catholics of having doctrinal, ascesis, etc problems.  As far as I can tell, the Orthodox in Russia have just as big of a doctrinal and ascetic problem as we do:  it just so happens that a large chunk of our fallen away Catholics go to Mass every Sunday.  While this may create some liturgical problems (which have a) improved greatly the further away from VII we get, and b) fewer liturgical abuses now that the tumultuous past decades have subsided), I am at a loss as to why this somehow lends ammo to Orthodoxy’s cannons.  If the Orthodox want to boast because our sinners are more visible than their sinners because ours are at Mass every week, they may want to find a better hobby.

Padre Pio: Miracle Man

Last night, I watched Padre Pio:  Miracle Man in its 214-minute entirety.  It was probably one of the most well done movies I’ve seen in a long time (perhaps I’m biased because I like Padre Pio so much!).  The movie followed a lot of the life events that you would find in the standard Padre Pio biographies in print.

I was pleasantly surprised with the acting.  Sergio Castellitto, who plays Padre Pio, put together the man’s character in a way that was very believable.  For example, when I would read biographies on Padre Pio, I often wondered if the man had bipolar disorder:  one minute he was slapping someone or being very harsh in the confessional, and the next he seemed so gentle and caring about the poor.  I always had trouble getting a picture of a consistent personality for the great saint.  However, Castellitto ended my confusion by integrating those seemingly contradictory character traits into a consistent personality. 

The movie did something very interesting:  it minimized the importance of Padre Pio’s miracles.  Undoubtedly, several mentions were made to the miracles in the movie, and a few times the miracles happened on screen.  But there were no angels flying around, no visions of Mary, etc, and the miracles were not the main focus of the movie.  Only once was there a semi-dramatic build up to one of the miracles (where the little boy is brought back to life during Francesco’s childhood).  I was very grateful for this:  the focus of the movie was not on the miraculous aspects of the man’s life, but on his incredibly deep intimacy with God, his tenderness, his love for those around him.  To put it differently, I was pleased to see the producers say that the holiness of the man was more important than his miracles.

But even if the miraculous wasn’t highlighted, his encounters with the devil were.  Satan appeared several times on screen, tempting the minor friar the whole movie.  Since the devil was known to physically abuse Padre Pio, putting him in the movie was at the very least unavoidable.  Thankfully, his encounters with the devil weren’t just used as times to make the movie more lively; (which they did) rather, they served a purpose in setting forth one of the major themes of the movie, which is the fight against the creaping, faith-destroying rationalism so present in our modern times.  Presenting the devil as real is one way to do that.

I have been told by several people that I would be capable of living a number of vocations extraordinarily well; and yet, several people have told me point blank that I have nothing of what it takes to be a monk (nor do I usually have the desire to become one).  However, this movie was so powerful, and it did such a good job in portraying the poor friar’s sanctity that now even I want to be a monk…at least for the time being. 

If you have not seen the movie, take the time to do so.  If you appreciate it as much as I did, you will find yourself renewed in your Christian vocation and eager to grow closer to God.

St. Therese on the Christian Vocation

“I feel in me the vocation of the priest. With what love, O Jesus, I would take You in my hands when, at my voice, You would come down from heaven. And with what love would I give You to souls! But alas! while desiring to be a Priest, I admire and envy the humility of St. Francis of Assisi and I feel the vocation of imitating him in refusing the sublime dignity of the Priesthood….

O Jesus, my Love, my vocation, at last I have found it … my vocation is Love! Yes, I have found my place in the Church and it is You, O my God, who have given me this place; in the heart of the Church, my Mother, I shall be love.”

Exerpt from Story of the Soul.

Monkish Movies: “Into Great Silence”

 

I can’t wait for the documentary, “Into Great Silence” to begin showing.  The producer approached the abbot of a Carthusian monastery in the 1980′s wanting to do a documentary on the monks.  The abbot was hesitant:  no outsider had ever been allowed inside the monastery before.  He told the producer that he would think about it.  Apparently, the abbot meant he would think about it for 20 years!

The producer was finally given permission to make the documentary with a few major stipulations.  First, the producer was not allowed to have a narrator interpret or comment upon what the monks were doing.  And secondly, no music–aside from the chanting of the monks–was allowed to be played in the background.  Even then, the producer could not take the chant and play it as background music when the monks weren’t actually singing.  Since the Carthusians practice perpetual silence, these stipulations seem like they would be big ones!

The documentary was released in Germany last year.  Surprisingly, it did very well at the box office.  It did so well that they are having limited showing times in the United States.  I believe it has already begun showing in certain areas. 

Check the link provided below to see if the documentary is coming to a theater near you.  However, you can’t delay:  someone told me that it was only going to be showing in DC for a week.  Other places may only be showing it for brief periods, too.  So go and see it while you have the chance!  For those that live in DC, the E Street Cinema will begin showing the documentary this Friday.

http://www.zeitgeistfilms.com/playdates.php?directoryname=intogreatsilence

Socrates on Misology

“Socrates:  There is a certain experience we must be careful to avoid.

Phaedo:  What is that?

S:  That we should not become misologues, as people become misanthropes.  There is no greater evil one can suffer than to hate reasonable discourse.  Misology and misanthropy arise in the same way.  Misanthropy comes when a man without knowledge or skill has placed great trust in someone and believes him to be altogether truthful, sound, and trustworthy; then, a short time afterwards he finds him to be wicked and unreliable, and this happens in another case; when one has frequently had that experience, especially with those whom one believed to be one’s closest friends, then, in the end, after many such blows, one comes to hate all men and to believe that no one is sound in any way at all.  Have you not seen this happen?

P: I surely have.

S:  This is a shameful state of affairs, and obviously due to an attempt to have human relations without any skill in human affairs, for such skill would lead one to believe, what is in fact true, that the very good and the very wicked are both quite rare, and that most men are between those extremes….The similarity lies in this:  It is as when one who lacks skill in arguments puts his trust in an argument as being true, then shortly afterwards believes it to be false–as sometimes it is and sometimes it is not–and so with another argument and then another.  You know how those in particular who spend their time studying contradiction in the end believe themselves to have become very wise and that they alone have understood that there is no soundness or reliability in any object or in any argument, but that all that exists simply fluctuates up and down as if it were in the Euipus and does not remain in the same place for any time at all.

P:  What you say is certainly true.

S:  It would be pitiable, Phaedo, when there is a true and reliable argument and one that can be understood, if a man who has dealt with such arguments as appear at one time true, at another time untrue, shoud not blame himself or his own lack of skill but, because of his distress, in the end gladly shift the blame away from himself to the arguments, and spend the rest of his life hating and reviling reasoned discussion and so be deprived of truth and knowledge of reality.

P:  Yes, by Zeus, that would be pitiable indeed.

S:  This then is the first thing we should guard against.  We should not allow into our minds the conviction that argumentation has nothing sound about it; much rather we should believe that it is we who are not yet sound and that we must take courage and be eager to attain soundness, you and the others for the sake of your whole life still to come, and I for the sake of death itself.”

The Phaedo, 89c-91b

What is Philosophy?

How is a philosopher supposed to answer this question when asked by the non-practitioner?

My brother is in Washington DC this weekend on a business trip, and he is staying at my seminary.  I took him out to dinner last night with a bunch of my philosophy friends.  In good humor, he mocked us.  Being a computer science major, he just doesn’t understand what philosophy is, or why anyone would want to be a philosopher.  My brother’s reaction is common, but why is that so?

Any dictionary entry will give a concise definition of what philosophy is.  Dictionary.com defines ‘philosophy’ as “the rational investigation of the truths and principles of being, knowledge, or conduct.”  Furthermore, any dictionary entry can give a definition for what other disciplines are.  Therefore, the problem can’t be that people can’t get an understanding of philosophy at that basic level.

I also don’t think people have trouble grasping what philosophy is because they don’t understand what philosophers do all day when they go to work.  If that were the case, then all technical disciplines should be mocked as well.  I know that my dad is an engineer, and I know that engineering is the application of the hard sciences; however, I have no idea what he does all day.  If he tried to explain it to me, I wouldn’t understand him because the discipline is too technical.  But philosophy is the same way.  So I don’t think people can fairly criticize philosophers because they don’t understand what philosophers do all day.

I think most Americans criticize philosophers because they confuse “value” with “usefulness”.  Americans are pragmatic people, and they want results.  The practitioners of the hard sciences–even the ones who are academics like philosophers–are never teased, IMO, because these sciences produce all sorts of cool widgets.  Even if the non-practitioner does not understand what the scientist does all day, he can see that he is doing something valuable because the results are tangible.

Philosophers are deemed worthless by many because their profession does not produce tangible results.  But in defense of philosophy, and following Josef Pieper, the realm of the common good is not reducible to the realm of the common need.  While all of a society’s needs fall under the umbrella of “the common good,” they do not exhaust the common good.  I think most people would agree that love is valuable, but once love is used for pragmatic ends, it is no longer love.  In fact, love often demands that we sacrifice our own good for the sake of others.  Literature, art, music, and many other things do not fall under the realm of the common need, either; and yet, all of these things have value, and none of these things are aimed at making society run more efficiently.

Presumably, the truth has value.  In short, if philosophy seeks the truth, then it is valuable insofar as its final cause is valuable.  If someone argues that philosophy cannot acheive certain results, I would just ask them if they know of a more “scientific” way of answering life’s ultimate questions e.g. why am I here?, what is the meaning of life?, how should I live my life?  Paraphrasing St. Thomas, the smallest bit of knowledge of the highest things is more valuable than much knowledge of lower things.

Russell and Copleston Square Off

Here’s the transcript of the famous Copleston-Russell Debate on the existence of God:

http://www.bringyou.to/apologetics/p20.htm

I remember reading this transcript two years ago and thinking that Copleston lost very badly.  Now I have enough philosophy under my belt to understand what both men were saying.  I still think Copleston lost the debate on religious experience, but I think he won the first section pretty clearly.  Russell’s positivism just does not seem as potent as it probably did in the 50′s.  I was also shocked to read how much of a relativist Russell was in that final section. 

However, I don’t want to ruin the debate for the rest of you.  Enjoy!

An Objection to Weak Perspectivism

Introduction:  Steven Hales and Rex Welshon present an interpretation of Nietzsche’s perspectivism in their aptly titled book, Nietzsche’s Perspectivism.  Let ‘strong perspectivism’ be the thesis that every statement is true in at least one perspective and false in at least one other.   ‘Weak perspectivism’ is the thesis that “there is at least one statement such that there is some perspective in which it is true, and some perspective in which it is not true.” (31)  After presenting the argument against strong perspectivism, I argue that weak perspectivism creates a major problem of its own.

1. Argument against strong perspectivism:  Hales and Welshon argue that weak perspectivism avoids the self referential problem.  The self-referential objection goes like this: 

1.1 Assume that perspectivist truth is true across all perspectives. 

1.11 If so, then the proposition, “perspectivism is true in all perspectives” is true in all perspectives;

1.12 But if it is true in all perspectives, then there exists an absolute truth, and therefore perspectivism is false (~1.1).

1.2 On the other hand, assume that perspectivism is true in some perspectives and false in other perspectives. 

1.21 Therefore, there exists at least one perspective in which absolutism is true (true by definition). 

1.22 If absolutism is true concerning some proposition in some perspective, then by definition that proposition is true across all perspectives (true by definition). 

1.23 But we originally assumed that perspectivism is true in some perspectives (1.2):  if perspectivism is true in some perspectives concerning some proposition, then absolutism is false concerning that proposition (true by the definition of absolute truth). 

1.24 Therefore, absolutism is false across all perspectives. (~1.21) 

1.25 But if (1.24), then absolutism is false in all perspectives, and perspectivism is true in all perspectives. 

1.26 Hence, there exists one absolute truth, and perspectivism is false (~1.2). 

1.3 Therefore, strong perspectivism is false.

Weak perspectivism is an easy way to avoid the self-referential problem.  At least one statement is absolutely true in all perspectives, i.e. perspectivism is true in all perspectives.  This seems like an easy solution to the problem, but it creates new problems in the process of solving old ones.

2. My objection to weak perspectivism:  Assume weak perspectivism is true. 

2.1 Presumably, there is some mechanism in each perspective which determines what is true in that perspective, e.g. Aristotle knows how to determine what is true in his own perspective, etc.  

2.11 Assume that each perspective cannot determine what is true within its own perspective, e.g. a Platonist could tell an Aristotelian what is true in the latter’s perspective.  (Reductio to prove 2.1)

2.12 If Plato could tell Aristotle what was true in Aristotle’s system, and Aristotle disagrees, who would ultimately decide what is true in Aristotle’s perspective?  There are two options:  either we develop a perspectivism about what is perspectivally true in a perspective, or we do not.

2.121 Assume we develop a perspectivism about what is perspectivally true in Aristotle’s perspective, i.e. Plato has a perspective on what is true in Aristotle’s perspective, and Aristotle has a perspective on what is true Aristotle’s perspective. 

2.1211 If so, then we merely move the problem:  who determines which perspective is true concerning what is true in Aristotle’s perspective?  We are brought back to the same problem mentioned in (2.12), and we are no closer to a solution.  If we continue this line of reasoning, we will have an infinite regress on our hands. 

2.122 If not (2.121), then the perspectivist is caught in the same epistemological trap that they sought to avoid by denying absolute truth in the first place:  the different philosophical systems have all fought for millenia without agreeing on what is true and what is not.  Perspectivism argues that the absolute truth these systems seek does not exist, and that only perspectivist truth exists.  But under weak perspectivism, the perspectivist has no better means of determining what is perspectivally true in any perspective than traditional philosophers have of determining what is absolutely true across all perspectives.  Therefore, perspectivism doesn’t answer the objection it sought to answer in the first place.

2.13 Unless the perspectivist is willing to accept the consequences of (2.11) or (2.12), then he must accept (2.1).

2.2  Assume (2.1) is true.

2.21 If this is the case, the weak perspectivist cannot tell the strong perspectivist what is true in the latter’s perspective i.e. that an absolute truth exists in his perspective, which the latter explictly denies. 

2.211 If he does argue that an absolute truth exists in the strong perspectivist’s system, then he denies (2.2), and the argument from (2.1) applies. 

2.212 If the weak perspectivist allows the strong perspectivist to determine what is true in the latter’s perspective, then weak perspectivism is false:  there will always exist a perspective in which weak perspectivism’s thesis is false.    

2.3 Therefore, weak perspectivism leads to an infinite regress, or it fails to answer the objection it originally sought to answer, or it is false.

EDIT:  See my second article on this topics:

http://phamilton.wordpress.com/2007/04/13/weak-perspectivism-revisited/

On Celibacy in the Priesthood, part I

All Roman rite seminarians must grapple with celibacy.  At the moment, the Church only calls celibate men to the priesthood, with a few exceptions.  The minimalist’s point of view is that we are required to give up marriage because the Church requires it; a more theological interpretation (and in my mind the better one)  is that priests give up marriage because we are marrying the Church.  We give up an exclusive love for a universal love, conforming ourselves to God in a way that is difficult to do in the married vocation.

Interestingly enough, the topic of our group formation meeting last night was celibacy.  We were given a worksheet of different statements regarding celibacy, and we rated them based on how highly we agreed with the statements.  Then, we discussed several statements small groups before recollecting for a large group discussion. 

In this post, I give some of my reflections on celibacy in the priesthood.  Before I start, however, I need to make something clear:  I am completely in favor of a celibate priesthood.  I see many benefits in the discipline.  However, I want to be honest with myself, and I want to know what celibacy entails so that I can give full consent to the sacrifice, should I be called to make it.  With that said…

My small group had some pretty interesting things to say.  However, I found myself disagreeing with the rest of the group on one substantial point.  We were asked to respond to the following statement:

Celibacy personally enables me to love others better and more meaningfully than other states of life would.

In itself, I have no problem with the question (I answered a 3/5; I don’t know what my call is at the moment).  However, the rest of the group seemed to be arguing that, universally speaking, celibacy allows us to love others better and in a more meaningful way.  I took great exception to that.  Priests are asked to love in a different way, an uncommon way, and a unique way; however, does celibacy inherently allow us to love “better” and “more meaningfully”?

The other day, my Contemporary philosophy professor was illustrating a point, and she brought up a story of a time when a car was spinning out of control right at her children.  She said that she remembers what happened in great detail, and her memory of this incident is still clear in her mind decades later.  This story made me pause for a second:  as a priest, will I love my flock in such a way that I love and care for others like a father loves his children?  

It seems like there are two ways to love:  to love universally and to love deeply.  These categories are not mutually exclusive:  the saints are exemplars of people who did both well.  However, the priesthood as a vocation seems to map onto the former more easily:  He is, by virtue of his celibacy, able to give his entire life to his people.  However, it is much more difficult for a priest to love many strangers deeply, as a man loves his child or his wife.  Marriage seems to map onto the latter option:  most of the father’s love and energy is directed primarily towards his family.  While it is not impossible for priests to love deeply or married people to love universally, each vocation seems to emphasize different aspects of love.

After telling this story to my small group, one of the people in my group gave an objection that seems absurd to me.  He made a distinction between love and psychological attachment.  He said that the reason it is so hard to watch a family member die is that we are psychologically attached; it is not an indicator of how much we love them.  Priests don’t cry at funerals, but that is not because they necessarily love the person less than his family does.  

But can such a distinction be so clearly drawn?  God loves perfectly:  He loves universally, and He loves everyone more deeply than a human can love his spouse.  I don’t think the fullest sense of Christian love is possible without “psychological attachment”.  Unlike modern accounts of love, love is not reducible to an emotion; love’s perfect action is sacrifice.  I am worried that my brother seminarian is degrading love by saying it finds its perfect fulfillment without “psychological attachment.”  Pope Benedict XVI writes otherwise in Deus Caritas Est:

Evidently, eros needs to be disciplined and purified if it is to provide not just fleeting pleasure, but a certain foretaste of the pinnacle of our existence, of that beatitude which our whole being yearns for. (4)

It is part of love’s growth towards higher levels and inward purification that it now seeks to become definitive, and it does so in a twofold sense:  both in the sense of exclusivity (this particular person alone) and in a sense of being “for ever”.  6

Note what Benedict does not say in the first paragraph:  he never says that eros is superfluous or non-essential to the act of Christian love.  On the contrary, Benedict rebuts Nietzsche, who argues that Christians have destroyed eros.  That intense “feeling” for others is not just mere psychological activity, but it is transformed and brought to fulfillment by the Gospel.  Eros and agape complement each other and bring each other into fulfillment.  The second quotation further demonstrates my point:  we are called to love others in an exclusive way.  God loves us each personally, in a unique way.  God’s love for me is not dependent upon God’s love for James or Sarah, but He loves me for who I am.  He died for everyone, but He did not die for an abstract humanity, but for each and every individual who He loved to the point of death.    

If there is a distinction between loving our children and having a psychological attachment to them, then in what way do we say that the love of parents for their children, or spouses for spouses, can be the most powerful and intimate examples of love?  If the empirical indicator of love is self-sacrifice, then a parent’s psychological attachment to their child seems like it makes him more willing to sacrifice for him.  This does not mean that love is reducible to that feeling, or that there is no such thing as love without that feeling.  But Christian love finds its fulfillment in part through the exclusivity of love.  How can the strong psychological attachment be removed if we love so deeply?   

It may be impossible for a priest to love his flock in the same way that a parent loves his child.  But the Church didn’t choose the familial bond to describe relationships within the Church for no reason, either.  A priest is called to be a father to his flock.  If all Christians are called to love as Christ loves, then the priest has no choice but to strive to love so deeply that it hurts:  when his loved ones rejoice he rejoices; when they suffer, he suffers.  Impossible?  Probably.  We are limited by our humanity, such that we cannot love as God loves.  But priests cannot fulfill the commands of Christ by merely loving universally.  He must love deeply as well.    

I haven’t yet touched upon my own discernment, and I don’t have the time at the moment to go into it in great depth.  However, I have been told by many people that I would make a great priest because they see in me the ability to love others universally.  However, my biggest concern is that I am unable, at the moment, to love deeply.  I have a genuine concern for other people’s problems, and yet I am not ready to sacrifice myself for that love.  I contemplate love and speak about love in very deep ways, but I have yet to demonstrate any ability to practice that love. 

We shouldn’t pick our vocations merely because we are good at certain things, although our talents could be indicators of what that vocation should be.  We enter certain vocations because God calls us.   We freely answer that call for the salvation of our own soul and for the greater glory of God.  Even if I may make a great priest, if I need to improve my ability to love deeply, then marriage may be what I need to grow in holiness.  I am not God, so I do not know what His plan is for me.  Right now, I am taking my discernment year by year.  I do know this, however:  at the moment, I am called to be a Catholic seminarian, and so I am going to be the best seminarian I can be, so help me God.

I will continue writing about celibacy in future posts, but I have no idea exactly what the next post will be about. 

The Christian Vocation to Love

A vocation is not an obligation.  It is the particular way in which God calls us to love.  When deacons are requesting to obtain orders, they write a letter to their bishops saying that they wish to be ordained for the salvation of their souls, from a free choice of their wills, for the greater glory of God.  I reflect on these words often:  no where in the letter do deacons write that they respond because they are obligated to respond.  They answer because they love the God who loved them first.  Remember this when you are responding to your vocation, no matter what you are called to do.  Respond not out of a sense of obligation, but with a generous heart.  Respond not because you feel obligated to answer, but because you want to give your entire self to God for having loved you first.