Finding Meaning After Catholicism
I was kicking a soccer ball outside a house I was renting with four roommates. I had gone through 5 preliminary interviews to re-enter seminary, and I had one last interview with the Bishop left. It was more of a formality, really. Entering Seminary to become a Catholic priest was nothing new to me; I'd done it twice before. My acceptance was basically guaranteed unless I spit on a crucifix in front of the Bishop or something. I'd been a Youth Minister for the past three years. I loved working with the middle and high school students and teaching them Catholicism. But it wasn't enough. Perhaps I could become a married deacon, I told myself. It was starting to feel like a pathetic substitute for the deeper fulfillment I craved. I wanted to hold Jesus in my own hands as I consecrated the Eucharist. I wanted to baptize new Catholics. I wanted to preach homilies, hear confessions. I stopped kicking the soccer ball and just stood there. That's when it all hit me all at on...