"DAD, I WANT TO BE A PRIEST."

 

What would you say to your son if he decides to become a priest?

Quite many parents answered such a thought-provoking question posed on the internet website Quora which I excerpted & edited for brevity some samples below:

“Well, son, I’m a bit surprised by your career plan, given that you’ve been raised in an atheist household. However, I will support you as I’ve supported your siblings. This support will cease if you try to convert any of us.”

“Wow, you have really surprised me! I’m not sure whether I should congratulate you or cry. Can you tell me all about this? I really want to understand it from your point of view.”

“My beloved son, I am happy that you were born from my womb. If I heard you lived and died for Jesus, then you fulfilled your duty to your mother. But son never is a reason anyone stumbles because of you. If you do so, your mother is dead for you.”

“Son, I was not aware you were into little boys. You will fit right in with The Catholic Church. Go with god and sin some more.”

“God bless you. I’ll pray for you, and ask you to pray for your mother and me.”

As for me, after picking up my son James at the airport, I was driving him home for his break after a year of residency as an oncologist in St Luke’s Medical Center when, all of a sudden, amid our lively conversation, he cut in: “Dad, I want to be a priest.” His jaw-dropping breaking news kicked off a knee-jerk reaction which I narrated in my past article, “The Road Less Traveled”:

“The scenery of the tree-lined highway through our car windshield was as pretty as a picture of the rosy future I envisioned for him earlier in our conversation. After I heard the breaking news he had carried, for sure, as “excess baggage” in his flight home, the scenery before me turned into what it was – a highway made of concrete – hard, cold, and gray.”

That was three years ago. Last August 2, 2022, as parents, my wife and I attended James’ “profession of first vows” (poverty, chastity, and obedience) ceremony in the Society of Jesus novitiate together with another Filipino and two Chinese novices.

After dinner, we met a number of his mentors-priests expressing these same words of gratitude: “Thank you for giving us, James.” One priest spelled out such gratefulness by pointing out that James had applied for novitiate at the height of the pandemic. Together with John, another Filipino cardiologist novice, both acted as medical front liners during the pandemic carrying out the Covid-19 protocols as well as serving as “family physicians” undertaking medical diagnosis and treatment of not so few patients-priests in the Jesuit house. The duo was manna from heaven then, so to speak, to the Society of Jesus during that critical time.

Another mentor-priest showed his appreciation to us for giving our blessing to James in entering into the Jesuit novitiate. He shared with us his experience a long time ago when he broke the news to his parents of his wanting to be a priest. His mother was displeased with the idea. He recalled how his religious mother after he had broken the news prayed every day to nip his priesthood dream in the bud. She even tried to rekindle his relationship with his past girlfriend. The mentor-priest could put himself in the shoes of most novices particularly on how the parents felt about letting go of their sons to become a priest.

I came into contact with this “priesthood calling” right after I graduated from elementary school. One day, a white-skinned priest driving a white land cruiser showed up on our school campus inviting interested male graduates for a weekend outing at his beach house. More than a dozen of us joined the “party” – swimming, games, eating, singing, and lots of fun.

A few days later, I was taken by surprise when the same priest driving a white land cruiser turned up in our house’s front yard. Taking a peek at the priest, suddenly, I just felt weak-kneed as if I was frightened of my own shadow. I told my mother to talk to the priest while I hid in my room. When the priest was gone, I didn’t even ask my mother what they talked about – I knew full well he was wooing me to become a priest.

A week later, the same priest driving a white land cruiser turned up again in our front yard. That particular time, interestingly, he wore a plain polo shirt instead of his usual soutane. Had he sensed that the sight of him in soutane scared me stiff during his visit? Or could he be off his priestly duty that day for an out-of-town trip and just dropped by to bid me goodbye? I don’t know.

Again, my mother talked to him while I hid in my room. Later, as he drove away slowly, I tried to catch a glimpse of the back of his white land cruiser until it went out of my sight. That was the last time I saw him. I got then mixed feelings: a spur-of-the-moment relief from the intense pressure of the priest’s prompting, and a heart-wrenching sadness for not having said a word of thanks to the gentle and loving priest for our enjoyable time together during that wonderful weekend outing in his cozy beach house.

Sad to say, neither could I conjure up an image of his face now nor even remember his first name. That eventful weekend outing and my subsequent hide-and-seek episodes I discarded from my memory a long time ago. Only when James broke the news of his wanting to be a priest did the vivid memory of that particular weekend outing flash again in my mind.

My wife and I are not deeply affected by James’ priesthood calling since we have been members of The Couples for Christ community where we have tried our best in living with the words of Joshua 24:15 – “But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

Above all, here’s the heart of the matter. When James broke the news to me of his wanting to be a priest, instead of reacting to him, I quietly said to Him, “Yes, Lord, I’ve owed You one.”

Head still photo courtesy of Mart Production @ pexelsdotcom