On Becoming a Monk

This article will be published in the St Pius X newsletter in the next week or so.  I'll post an "early edition" of it here!

On Becoming a Monk

Father Jay Kythe

            I don’t know about you, but I am struck by the strangeness of this news!  I suspect all of you are as well.  Come on, how often do you hear about someone—anyone—becoming a monk, especially your parish priest?  And here I am, struck by what a strange thing this is!

            Parish priests live in the world.  All faithful Christians live in the world but are not of the world.  They are “new creations” by virtue of their baptism.  Parish priests especially must be witnesses of being this “new creation,” of being citizens of the Kingdom of God, of sojourners towards an Eternity that awaits us.  But frankly, this is pretty hard to do.  I realized this when I really, really, really wanted an iPhone.  How much more worldly can you get?  Yes, my iPhone has cool Catholic apps.  I can do my prayers on it, and I can listen to Relevant Radio any time of the day or night.  I have Catholic podcasts alongside apps that give uplifting daily messages.  But I also have two Star Trek tricorder and one communicator apps, an Amazon.com app, four weather apps, and ... how much more worldly can you get?

            There are times I set down my iPhone and gaze off into space, longing for that life of peaceful surrender to the Lord.  I felt called to religious orders before coming to Minnesota, but my route led me to ordination and serving in the archdiocese.  I chose to belong to the Companions of Christ and live a common life of prayer and fellowship with others.  But I was still in the world a bit too much for my taste.  One day I heard about a diocesan priest entering the Trappists, and I thought, “Could I do that?”  Having visited this community of Benedictines in Atchison, Kansas, I decided to get back in touch with them. 

Years of prayer, visits, and conversations went by, and then the archbishop gave me permission to spend six weeks down there, during a hot Kansas summer!  Remember, I hate the heat and I hate sweating.  I’m from New Orleans, right?  You’d think that New Orleanians are used to the heat, but alas, no.  They are used to air conditioning.  So here I was, outside the mildly air conditioned monastery, picking corn, beans and tomatoes and trimming tree branches and doing many other things to torment me in the heat, sweat pouring down like sheets.  As if that wasn’t the worst thing, there were mosquitoes, one of God’s creatures (what was He thinking?) that absolutely adore me.  I mean it, they LOVE me!  They give me kisses all over my sweaty body, so much so I have to cover myself in that special cologne that has DEET in it. 

            But I loved being there!  I’m not crazy about manual labor under the hot sun, but I wanted to stay!  Leaving that place was difficult, and it would be two more years before the archbishop would grant me permission to return, to test out this possible vocation.

            And now I stare at my iPhone and think, I have to give this up.  I have to give up many things, like my car, the blankets and quits beloved parishioners gave me, the 15 or so sweaters I have (I only need one or two), all the knick-knacks that I’ve accumulated over the years, etc.  The monks did tell me that I can bring my books, because “when you die, we’ll have them!” (And the monk who told me that laughed mischievously!)  Now, my life is pretty simple anyway.  Compared to many people, I really don’t have that much stuff.  When I moved last time, all my volunteers noticed that.  You would think that giving up some of these things would be pretty easy.  No one told me about how possessions can possess you!  There is a sentimental connection to things that I have to give up too. 

            Furthermore, giving up things only reminds me that I must give up my will.  For eight years I have been a pastor, in charge of things and making decisions for the good of the parish.   Now I will be the “low man on the totem pole.”  I will receive the decisions that others have made for me.  The first year-and-a-half will be the hardest.  After that I shall become (God willing) a junior monk and given an assignment in which I can utilize my gifts and talents.  And then three years later, I will have to discern and decide whether or not to make this life a permanent one.  I will either return back to the archdiocese or stay there for good.

            The question that should arise is “Why?”  Why do something like this?  Why give up things that have a sentimental meaning or things that I enjoy?  Why restrict my life in this way?  Why give up my freedoms?

            Because I want to separate myself from the world a bit more and gaze towards Heaven.  Jesus tells us that the way to heaven is through the narrow gate.  Or as St Thomas More said, “You can’t get to heaven on a feather bed.”  Believe me, I want to get to heaven, but I want my “feather bed” (actually, it’s a cool full size Serta mattress and a captain’s bed with an awesome headboard that has bookshelves and cabinets ... but I gotta give that up too!). 

As I meditated on this, I had an imaginative vision of jogging to heaven.  There was a fork in the road.  One way was tough and rocky, filled with thorns and narrow.  The other way was gentle and wide, with chirping birds and sunlight and flowers.  Knowing that the former way was the right one (for the Cross was on the horizon), I began going down that path.  Along the way, I would smile and ask the angels and the saints if this was the right way.  They told me yes.  “Is Jesus down there?” I would ask, and they would say yes.  “Will I see my mom?” and they would answer yes.  But that road isn’t the one most people of the world would pick; they would pick the other one.  For this road to Heaven involves a total surrender of your will to God.  That’s why it’s a hard, difficult one.

            God created us in His image and likeness, and often we recreate Him in our image and likeness.  We follow the God of our own making.  But when we conform ourselves to the reality of who God is and what He has done for us, we must also follow Him as He has revealed Himself through the centuries.  That means, we must follow Him through the Church He established.  This is the path trod by the saints, and there are thorns and rocks along this narrow way.  Their one true love’s choice is Jesus Christ, and their destiny is Heaven.

            So why should I give up this blanket, and this car, and this iPhone, and ... ?  Because I want Jesus.  Jesus is worth it.  The Kingdom of Heaven is worth it.  For me, this means walking down this strange path that God has shown me, a path not meant for everyone, for God has an individualized path towards Heaven for everyone else.  And every time one goes on a particular path, one needs to ask trusted people whether or not this is the right one.  Most of all one needs to ask God.  He will draw us towards Himself with the fruits of the Holy Spirit. 

            People in the world say that the Church is behind the times and needs to “get with it.”  Rather, I think the world is really behind the times, God’s time, and needs to get with it!  At the end of our life, God will ask us a very important question: smoking or non-smoking?  “Do you want to be with me in Heaven for all Eternity, or not?”  We make the choice in the here and now, and we embark on the path towards ... the smoking section or the non-smoking section.  Which will it be for you?