Conversion is at the Core of My Catholic Identity and Discernment of a Priestly Vocation

The story of my spiritual formation is a story of my conversion to the Roman Catholic Church. Although I was introduced to Christianity through the African Methodist Episcopal (A.M.E.) church, I converted to Roman Catholicism, 36 years ago, in order to encounter Christ more deeply and more fully. I believe that the primary mission of the church is to show the world the face of Christ. Through my conversion to Catholicism I was able to encounter Christ through the sacraments and in communion with the universal church. My story of conversion is not a story of a one-shot and sudden revelation, but of a gradual unfolding over time that has involved ongoing instruction and spiritual formation. I have had moments that I might call “epiphanies” in this process, but they occurred in relation to a series of experiences that were much more subtle and much less dramatic. They were so subtle, in fact, that it has only been in retrospect that I have been able to see how the hand of God has been constantly at work in my life.

I believe that my conversion experience has been edifying for friends of mine, who were born into the Catholic Church but who did not appreciate the value of the tradition they were born into, and for non-Catholics who have had difficulty understanding how one would be drawn to the church. Over the past ten years I have frequently found myself in the unexpected position of re-evangelizing non-practicing Catholics, whose days have been so absorbed by their work and other activities that they had forgotten the essential role that the Mass once played in their lives.

I realize that the process of discernment about the priesthood does not rest with my thoughts and feelings alone; the Church discerns with me. I have been encouraged, in this process of discernment, by parishioners, clergy and the religious. Through them, I have learned to open myself to listen to what the Holy Spirit is telling me and to respond to God’s call if this is His will for my life. I do not enter this process of discerning the priesthood, at this late stage of my life, lightly, rashly or suddenly. This process of discernment has come through a great deal of prayer and through conversations with priests and members of my parish. I began to take seriously the possibility of a calling about ten years ago, when I began to serve as a lector and a Eucharistic minister in my parish, St Paul Cathedral. I have been a weekly nocturnal Eucharistic adorer at the Newman Center for the past seven years. I have been strengthened in this inquiry by praying the Liturgy of the Hours, intermittently, for the past seven years also.  

In broad outline, the process of my spiritual formation has involved becoming a Catholic not just once, but many times. As all men of faith must recommit themselves to Christ each day, and as a Church we repeat our Baptismal vows each Easter, so I have reaffirmed my commitment to living in communion with the Church after periods of uncertainty or dryness. Future blog posts on my spiritual autobiography will trace this process in greater detail.

(From my Spiritual Autobiography)

The Journey Begins

This week I have entered the St. Paul Seminary for the Pittsburgh Catholic Diocese. This entails a major change for a 57 year old African American man, who has had a professional career and has been accustomed to living on his own -- detached from family and community.

Living in a seminary has two main aspects to it; the most obvious aspect is the academic side, but the more profound aspect is the way that living in an authentic community nurtures spiritual growth. Seminary is a place of discernment for religious life, the deaconate or the priesthood.  It is a place to simultaneously withdraw from the world, and to become more deeply immersed in it, in order to listen for the voice of God to discover God's intentions and purpose for one's life.

I say it is a place to simultaneously withdraw from, and to immerse oneself more deeply in the world because seminary life does not embrace the inevitability of these apparent dichotomies. The seminarian does not withdraw from the world in order to escape from it; the seminarian withdraws in order to re-enter, with a clearer mind and a stronger heart. The seminarian re-enters the world, and goes to places that most people would avoid unless they wanted to romanticize and exploit vulnerable human beings who are often ignored or pushed to the margins social consciousness.

St. Paul Seminary is set on 17 acres of green landscape, woods and athletic fields, apart from much of the noise and distractions of the secular world. The art and the architecture that surrounds us, draws our minds away from secular concerns and values, and focuses them on matters of the heart and of the spirit. Yet the life of the seminarian immerses one in the world because it includes offering one's time and talents for charitable, or "apostolic", work -- the work of the apostles. This includes work within prisons, substance abuse recovery programs, work with troubled youth, work with the aged, work with the hospitalized, work with the homeless, and work in soup kitchens. It doesn't get more real than this.

The life of the seminarian also immerses one in the world because life in a seminary means living in a community. There can be nothing that is more real or more terrestrial than living in a close community, with the many different personalities that the members bring with them. The seminary is a place to develop awareness of the impact that one's thoughts, words and deeds have on others, and to develop empathy. It is a place of work, study, prayer and worship as a community. This is quite the opposite of a lifestyle based on escapism.

In my professional life -- as a university professor, a K-12 teacher, a historian, and a social worker -- I have seen people at different stages of their lives. I have discovered, in doing that work, that one's capacity to affect other lives, and to be affected by them, is limited to the extent that one does not embrace the whole human person. Teachers, social workers and other professionals are inundated with methodology and technical skills, but they are taught to steer away from matters of the spirit. Yet matters of the spirit are the most important matters to our clients, customers, constituents, students and neighbors -- even if they, themselves, are not aware of it.

People marvel at the mystery of birth, and they stand in awe of the inevitability and seeming finality of death. They think they can avoid death, or at least delay it, by not thinking or talking about it. They struggle with the suddenness and frequency with which people are afflicted with injuries and illness, which can quickly transform a healthy, vibrant and seemingly independent person into one who must depend on others for the simplest of matters, such as getting dressed or taking a bath. Even if this physical transformation is temporary it is an unsettling reminder of how vulnerable each of us is, and of how dependent we all are on other people.

The most sensitive and attentive souls will allow the marvel of birth, the awe of death, and the awareness of vulnerability and dependency to raise questions about what it all means. They will allow it to trigger questions about what the purpose of their life actually is, or even whether or not their life has a purpose. The technical skills and methods of the professional are not enough to help people work through these existential questions, yet to ignore these questions renders the teacher irrelevant to the deepest levels of inquiry in the hearts and the minds of the teacher's students; likewise for social work and other professions that are grounded in human interaction.

As a Catholic priest, Father Luigi Giussani, once pointed out in his work The Journey to Truth is an Experience, that a reasonable person is not a man or woman who remains in the realm of abstraction; "a reasonable person is one who submits reason to experience". Christianity is an event that one belongs to and that one participates in. It is a lived experience that awakens and informs consciousness. Christianity is existential -- it is something that we experience, live and do; it is not just something we believe.

Christianity, more than being the mere belief in Jesus as the Christ, is an encounter with Christ -- it is an experience and a relationship through this encounter. We encounter and experience Christ in community, as Giussani phrases it, "community is the phenomenon with which Christ carries on His presence in history."

I have come to this community, this seminary, to encounter Christ.

One of the requirements for entering the seminary was that the prospective seminarian submit a spiritual autobiography. Over the next few weeks I will intersperse sections of the spiritual autobiography that I submitted along with posts, such as this one, that are inspired by my current experiences. My spiritual autobiography should help to clarify my background, which has brought me to the life of a seminarian in the first place. Other posts, inspired by current experiences, will help to show where this adventure is taking me.

And so the journey of the spirit begins....

C. Matthew Hawkins