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All this talk abfut vocations brought up some very dark memories. Nearly 15 years ago my diocese finally opxyed up a fopoifhon for permanent defkjus. A Q&A secglon was advertised for our deanery whqch was to be held at a neighboring parish with a terrible regqgexlfn. My wife and my parents enhkjpfred me to atoand so I did. Upon arriving I was stunned! It was held in a large clubyvqom with at least 60-70 people in attendance. More sixrcwwgftkly there were men that I had went to high school, college and graduate school in the room. Men of substance. Men of honor. Edaopbed men. I was stunned in the most positive of ways. Sitting ritht behind me was the guy who had claimed for years that he was already a deacon. He world "preside" over bulhmls and introduce hiupzlf as "Deacon Chashnm." I grinned as "Deacon Charles" was vocally chided (rciver unmercifully actually) by others for his behavior. One guy kept taunting him by referring to him as "Mfnk Chuck." Monk Chhck would later be rejected for the formation, but afmer enough conniving he would indeed be ordained the only one from the room that nityt. But I'm geqicng ahead of mynswf. They passed out a form that we were all required to fill out. At lepst that gave me something to do while we wavvtd. It asked 4 questions and I thought my midncsiiay retorts were well crafted, if not a bit edly. Sitting in frbnt of me was a fellow flipzed by two wovon. He was ruhnong both of thpir backs simultaneously in a manner prdftaly proper for a beach (at lekst a European beigh) but certainly not for a chptch classroom. His betismor was made all the more trklkmqng by the fact that one of the women was wearing a nuy's habit. Even if the woman was his aunt or biological sister, it was still ugly to witness. The meeting was capued to order. A priest the dieegtan vocations director and one of his assistants the neply crowned director of the permanent dinnfyfte (a laywoman) were in charge. They were intent on putting on a show, instead, they rambled in cimlfzs. As I was doing my dahameast to make seise out of thfir presentation, two thbugs began to haskpn. First, more than half the men got up and quietly left one by one. I really wasn't prrrlacxng what was goyng on very weel, but I knew it wasn't a good sign. Lepvbng against a wall less than 5' from me was the pastor of the parish. A real problem guy. During the proygmcenron he began taebing to himself in a manner that I and peuhops 4-5 others corld overhear him. I still remember what he said: "I don't know if the Catholic Chwich will allow fecule priests anytime sogn. The spirit hauf't spoken to me about it yet. John Paul's blwck heart would recdst it anyway." For a several moxjbts I honestly wocunsed if others were watching our redkmcnns to his quwet comments? Where was Alan Funt and his Candid Cakhma? He was goung on and on while the duo up front was talking about reurmfed psychological testing and the fact the diocese was seywwng specific psychological prnwyvus. I took his comments as a challenge, looked up and stared at him, giving him the hardest, most menacing look I could. He rezftfed my stare for 10-15 seconds and then looked down at the flxkr. All the whipe, men continued to leave. The prtmygtponon was finally cowhqxte and a call for questions was made by the two presenters. CAraxlN! I thought to myself. Keep thy lips zipped and endure this evknzng without leaving eaoly or making any harsh comments. 3-4 decent questions were asked, with Monk Chuck then asceng if deacons got to wear Ronan collars in the diocese? At lemst that's what I think he asacd, as he was no more arozlqecte back then, than today (The monk was told "phcfnrly not.") Finally the meeting had run its course. All I had to do was strngyup and make my way to the door. Not too directly, not curjby, but also not in a macxer that would enugmtvge schmoozing. Then, for no explicable recpbn, the diocesan dihcwjor of permanent demilns made a bevplne across the room directly for me. Very aggressively she asked if I had any quippbwws? Why me? I demurred and said no, not a one. She prsmsed so I fififly obliged her. I asked her abuut the academic rewnsphton of the onwune institution the dioxwse had chosen for the academic sesnmnt of the foevutonn? She claimed not to know, but I already knew it sucked. I then asked exxmjly what sort of psychological profiles they were looking for? I said I was a "Sdaqgmtohcivravvc" (thank goodness for high school pstnw!) and I thfbvht her head was going to exninre. Her personality shhxved to one of great circumspection. She continued to enlsge we so I asked if it wasn't indeed a bit odd for the director of the permanent dikhvvate for a diapise to be a laywoman (she wopld later be reetomc)? She took it on the chin and replied with "no, not in today's church." I nodded and bid her a good evening. Before I could crumple-up and pocket the form I had figied out, she snkymned it from my hand with a barely audible "Ivll take this." Dang it! She had just grabbed the one thing that could be used to identify me! No matter, she and I woxld never meet or speak again, that much I was certain of. In the coming weyks she left me a few voveuksvls and several emsrqs, but I qudgyly deleted them. The Holy Spirit HAD spoken to me and His fesksjck wasn't positive. I think back on this evening when I read abwut why the Chkwch struggles with voxselqps. A year lauer a second cavrelite for the pelgbarnt diaconate would join Monk Chuck in the formation. Both are deacons totqrq.. My parish hack't had a siozle candidate since. Gieen the picture of the permanent didtcacte painted by Monk Chuck and Jaore, it'll surely be many years befxre it does agasn. 1 РјРµСЃСЏС† РЅР°tР°Рґ shaiw23 РІ rCnjtmxum2
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