My Vocation Story

My pastor asked us to write down our vocations story to publish on the parish website.  Here's what I came up with.

June 12, 2010

               If you had asked me 15 years ago what I would be doing today, I would have told you that I would be running for President.  I became interested in politics in my early teens, and my family and friends often told me that I would make a good politician.  I never asked which characteristics of mine led them to that conclusion, and probably would rather not know.  I moved to Washington, DC for college and law school and focused my education and career on political science and public and private international law.  I had every intention of running for Congress and later for the Presidency. 

                My political aspirations began to unravel with two realizations.  As a new father, I realized that it would be unfair to subject a child to the indiscriminate mudslinging so often associated with politics.  With little consternation, I decided to postpone my political career until our children were grown.  The second realization was much more challenging.  A few years later, I realized that I really was not cut out to be a politician.  I am not very thick-skinned; I never have been.  I take all criticism to heart, and often brood over it for a long time.  Simply put, I was not tough enough for a political career.  I was confronted by my own limitations, and it devastated me.  Around the same time, we decided to move to New Jersey to be closer to family, so I was physically removed from the environment that was feeding my political aspirations.  I felt a calling to public service, and no longer had a plan to fulfill that calling.  I felt useless. 

                 We moved to Clinton Township in 2002 and become parishioners at Immaculate Conception Church.  ICC was the first parish I belonged to that was assigned a deacon, so it was my first opportunity to see a deacon (Deacon Bill Bauer) in action on a regular basis.  As I became more familiar with the role of the deacon, I began to think that the personal characteristics that led me to politics might also serve well in the diaconate:  I love learning; I love ritual; I love teaching; I love being with people; and, I will admit, I love talking.  I read every book I could find on the diaconate and began talking with priests, deacons and my spiritual director about the possibility of becoming a deacon.  I had considered the priesthood as a child and later in college, so my interest in the diaconate did not surprise me, but it definitely surprised my wife, my parents, my brother and sisters and my friends.  Once I explained why I thought I was called to the diaconate (especially the love of talking), they all accepted my calling as I heard it and were very supportive. 

                There was no one moment when I knew for sure that I would be a deacon (until the Bishop laid his hands on my head at ordination), but there were several confirming moments along the way – moments of clarity and reassurance.  One such moment happened on Good Friday.  As the clergy prostrated themselves before the altar at the beginning of the liturgy, I had a profound sense that I belonged there with them.  A second confirming moment happened when I overheard my wife explaining to someone on the phone why I would be a good deacon.  It was clear to me then that Jessica really understood and that I had her support.  A third confirming moment happened when I was really struggling with whether I would enter diaconate formation.  I was walking alone on the driveway of the Church near the cemetery, questioning what to do.  I turned toward the cemetery and said aloud, “What will people say about me when I’m buried here.”  Without a moment’s hesitation, the answer came to me:  “They will say that he baptized us, he married us and he buried us.” 

                If you had told me 15 years ago that I would be a deacon today, I would have asked you what a deacon was.  I thank God for leading me to the diaconate and for my family and friends who have supported me in this ministry.  My portrait may never hang in the White House, but I am perfectly happy to be remembered simply as a husband and father and as the deacon who “baptized us, married us and buried us.”