Celibacy and Holy Orders III

The married deacon’s challenge to the celibate deacons

As I began to reflect on the spirituality of the celibate permanent deacon, I asked myself: “What can I learn from the experience of married deacons.

Reflecting on this, I came upon two different books that helped me to see that one of my temptations as a celibate permanent deacon is to think of myself as a “free agent.”

I may have my sources of income from outside the church structure, in my case, Social Security and some IRA funds. I do not depend on the church for my sustenance.

But even more problematic for me as retired is that I have no responsibilities outside those I have within the church structure.

The married deacon has responsibilities to his family, whether employed by the church or not, whether retired or working.

In his marriage the married deacon is called to live out his union with God in a very special way, in the complete giving of oneself, in one’s vulnerability, to the other -  first of all, to his spouse and family.

The temptation is to be an independent agent, fulfilling my own agenda. Spouses respond to the needs of the other spouse. Parents find themselves being at the service of their children. The celibate deacon could very easily fall prey to an approach to ministry that is more business-like, focused on functions, job descriptions, less open to the insistent demands of love. Without realizing it, he might treat the diaconate as a career, as a way to do things, rather than a calling, a way of life; in this framework, the deacon has tasks to fulfill in a certain period of time that he devotes to work. It is thus important to recognize the gift of the married deacon.

Last fall, while visiting the parish of Saint Thomas Aquinas in Ames, Iowa, where I worked in campus ministry and social ministry as a layman, I came across an insightful book by the wife of a current member of the staff. In Embracing Weakness, Sharon Evans writes:

It is laudable but not exceedingly difficult to honor the dignity of a child when you get to go home later and read a book or eat a full meal uninterrupted. Parenting is an intense road to sanctification, and the ride is a bumpy one. (Shannon K. Evans, Embracing Weakness, p. 97.)

The celibate deacon can come home and his only concern might be to make dinner or make some home repairs. He does not need to respond to the demands of the married life – a sick child, an unexpected expense, a spouse worried about the behavior of one of the children, and much more. He is often free to choose what he wants to do with his time off from ministry. He may embrace babies in ministry situations but doesn't often change their diapers.

But the demands of family life can be as school for holiness, a way of serving in unexpected and unplanned ways.

As Father Ronald Rolheiser, OMI, writes in Domestic Monastery:

Any mother or father, while raising children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative, is forced, almost against the will, to constantly stretch the heart. For years, while raising children, her or his time is never her or his own. Personal needs have to be kept in second place, and every time a parent turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. (Ronald Rolheiser, Domestic Monastery, p. 20.)

How am I as a celibate deacon called to let my heart be stretched by the needs around me? Or do I merely choose what I want to be involved in, something that “fulfills” me or fills my ego?

Yesterday was one of those days when I was stretched.

I like to have things planned. I like to do things in an organized way and be in control.

Two nights ago, after Mass in a rural village, my pastor asked me to talked to a woman who was extremely distressed. We talked for almost half an hour and I suggested that tomorrow I could take her to Santa Rosa to talk with some people who might be able to help her, both in terms of the problem and in terms of her psychological stress.  Yesterday, I went to the village very early, since I was bringing people from there to the parish coffee field to work. We talked again for about twenty minutes. She was reluctant to go – partly at the urging of her family. Finally, I made sure that she had my phone number and told her to call me if she changed her mind.

When I arrived at the coffee field, our pastor asked me to talk with someone who was caring for her nephew and nieces who had been brought to be with her. Their mother had been killed in Guatemala where they had been living and they were without familiar support there. But the aunt is extremely poor. I talked briefly with her and am trying to see if something can be done to help the children even more.

I got home after taking the workers I had picked up in the morning. Their village is about 50 minutes from where I live and where the parish coffee field is. When I got home, I had driven more than three and a half hours. Not uncommon in our parish – and not really a burden. I find that I can often do a lot of reflection while driving, even as I try to avoid potholes and go carefully around the curves.

I was doing some writing when I heard someone call a variation of my name: “Juanito.” I went out and talked for about twenty minutes with a young man from Guatemala who was working in the coffee fields around here. I had first met him and his family as they were walking from San Agustín to Plan Grande way back in April. I had not seen him until about a week ago when he came asking help for his sick two year old. After I saw him, he took his family back to Guatemala to see if there was any way to help the child. A private clinic told him that a procedure costing three thousand quetzales, was needed. Although only about $400, it was more than they could afford and so he returned here to work. We talked, with some difficulty since his first language is one of the indigenous languages of Guatemala. He left after a while.

My first reaction when I saw him was to hope that this would not be long, but then I found myself stretched to listen to him and to begin to think about how to respond.

These three encounters remind me of the need to let myself be stretched by the needs and demands of others. I cannot solve all of them but I can, at the very least listen. In this way I can let God stretch me and open me to a deeper love. As Guy Mansini wrote to James Keating, “the way of the diaconate in each new epoch is one of incarnating the eager availability of Christ to serve the deepest human needs.” (James Keating, “Identity and Holiness,” in James Keating, ed., The Character of the Deacon,  p, 123.)

This is part of the kenotic availability which God offers us deacons. It is extremely important that we celibate deacons respond. Our brother married deacons are called to be available to their families and, in the family, learn how to serve without counting the cost, ready to respond as a spouse or parent responds to the call of love.