I spent last week among the brothers in black.
They structured my days. They scheduled my meals. They shamed into a more regular practice of my prayer life than might normally occur.
Although serious in their approach to life, they exhibited consistent joy and a bit of humor in their behavior and language. I was impressed.
I wasn’t incarcerated, but doing a little teaching at the Legion of Christ Novitiate and College of Humanities (AKA seminary) in Cheshire, CT. My students were the brothers studying humanities (AKA humanists), roughly equivalent to juniors and seniors in a liberal arts college.
Of course, it isn’t like other colleges. No fraternities – or sororities, for that matter. No bar crawls on Friday night. Not much spare time or time given over to idle play.
When you walk into a room with several dozen young men in black cassocks, they look pretty much alike – at first. As you get to know them, the range of personalities is pretty much what you would expect in a large room of human beings: introverts, extroverts, athletes, nerds, serious types and jokers.
But the love of Christ and the desire to bring Christ is others are palpable. The men want to be apostles.
They are an international group, much like the Legion as a whole: Mexico, Colombia, Venezuela, Spain, France, Brazil, Korea, Philippines, Canada and the United States. And despite allegations that Ireland not longer produces vocations – especially not to the Legion – the group included a chap from the Emerald Isle. (I apologize for any country I forgot – I had a couple large classes.)
Each man’s route to Cheshire was different, as was what caused each to believe he might be called to the priesthood. Some seemed to have known from the time they were old enough to link thoughts together. I struggle to imagine someone knowing in kindergarten that they might be a priest; at that age all I thought about was when it would be time for recess and a snack.
Others heard the call gradually and could pin it to no specific time and place. Some had a dramatic experience, in a couple cases actually hearing a voice. Some embraced the calling with joy – others fought to ignore what they knew would be a sacrificial life.
There was a common element, or so it seems to me. Each had planted within him the seed of the priesthood, or at least the seed of receptiveness. Something or someone nurtured that seed and today it grows in their process of discernment.
I was blessed to spend a week with young men who are open to a life of giving and are testing how that feels, what it requires, where it might take them. My job was to teach and I think they learned a little. But I was unable to give them as much as they gave me.
