The long and lonely road…
A story about nothing.
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When I was little, my siblings made fun of me because of my devotion. I would dress up as a priest and pretended to say Mass, I prayed the rosary and had processions with my statues. I even carried a jar of water around when we went places in our car - I knew lay-people could baptize anyone in danger of death - so in case I came upon an accident and no priest was available - I was ready. You see, when I was little I didn’t want anyone to go to hell. In fact, after I learned about Fatima and devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I prayed the rosary every day and made posters to put up around the neighborhood promoting devotion to Our Lady of Fatima.
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My dad used to tell me that I would never make it as a priest, and my mother said I was a little hypocrite, after that, my brother and sister teased me even more. Sometimes, my dad was nice to me about being a priest and would take me to see one, and after I explained my desire to the priest, my dad would ask the priest for money. I’d be embarrassed. My dad would curse the priest as we left the rectory if he did not give him money. At home my dad would say bad things about the Church and tell me I would never make it as a priest.
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When I was old enough to enter minor seminary, my dad brought me to another priest who told me that I prayed too much, spent too much time in church, and used religion as an escape. He said my desire to be a monk was bad - monks had no freedom, and to be a priest in a religious order would be throwing my life away. He agreed with my dad and said I should finish high school and then think about diocesan seminary. I was sent to public high school - where I quickly fell away from the Church.
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When I returned a few years later, I encountered similar opposition as far as my spiritual life was concerned. This time from priests and seminarians and church people - “things had changed” they explained to me. I knew how to be secretive about my piety from my childhood, lest it was discovered that I was on the traditional side. So I went to prayer meetings and hid my scapular, secretly prayed my rosary bunched up in my hand, attended the earliest Mass every day, and spent long hours in adoration - often at the back of the Church. A few seminarians and priests and monks told me I was much too pious and that I should be more active in the Church and working with the poor. I was warned to stay away from churches like St. Agnes in St. Paul, organizations like CUFF, and never to read The Wanderer.
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In confession priests often told me I did not have to confess this or that mortal sin, or that I went to confession too often, and that my piety was pre-Vatican II. Sometimes I would have to ask for absolution after a priest omitted it - he would tell me I didn’t need it. Although he usually gave in after I begged and pleaded with him, explaining I must have psychological problems with guilt - he understood that. Once a priest told me anything a priest changed in the Mass was okay, and all one needed for a valid Mass were the words of institution at the Consecration. (Most priests told me that.) Other priests told me I did not have to go to confession before Holy Communion, even if in mortal sin. Another priest told me devotion to the Sacred Heart was effeminate, while another told me Fatima was over.
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Of course I met many good priests on my pilgrimage, in fact, many of those I mentioned were considered very good priests. Really, they were. Somehow, I stayed my course, knowing I was odd and would never make it as a priest or a religious, nor ever be able to meet the expectations of others who wanted me to be more “modern”. Of course, once in awhile I was blown into this harbor or that port, only to be caught in an endless whirlpool of dialog, argument or confusion, but Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament pulled me through.
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Now that the Church is recovering Her traditional piety, I’m no longer quite such a misfit, nor do I have to hide my piety. Nevertheless, I still pretty much find myself alone on issues related to morality and sexuality. This priest or that person tells me one thing, and yet I believe what the Roman Catholic Church teaches. It has been such a long and lonely road however. “To always lose and let everyone else win…” - John of the Cross mentions that somewhere - it’s a good thing.
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And my dad was correct, I never did make it to the priesthood. It is better this way.
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The End.
Fr. Steve, a Salesian priest who authors the blog, 