The Single Vocation,

Continued...

For Catholics engaged in maintaining the difficult peace of the single life, therefore, some modicum of certainty about God’s will is of primary importance. At least in my own case, I know I tend to worry that perhaps I made a drastic mistake at some earlier point in my life. Maybe I misread the signs of my own vocation. Maybe I did something terribly wrong in one of my earlier relationships and ruined my chances forever. Maybe I’m actually completely unready for any vocation, without even realizing it. All this may sound ridiculous—a small suffering compared to the travails of parenthood or poverty or illness—but living with this unease and anxiety nonetheless constitutes a heavy and constant burden for the single Catholic.

The solution which has lately helped me in carrying this burden is envisioning vocation in broader terms.

At the moment when I write this, it is impossible to know whether God intends to present a potential spouse or some appealing path of religious life tomorrow or in a month or a year or twenty years.

What is possible to know, however, is whether one is called to the active or the contemplative life.

A few years ago, an acquaintance of mine was preparing to enter a Carmelite convent, and I overheard her explaining that the reason she wanted to follow this vocation was her deep desire to pray constantly for the Church and for souls. I was astounded at her words, because it struck me that I have never been particularly motivated by such a desire. Certainly, I will pray for friends and family, or the recently departed in my parish and their families, or for souls who have been commended to my prayers. When there is no direct intention presented to me, though, the thought of this kind of general prayer for the Mystical Body of Christ and the conversion of souls simply never occurs to me. I cannot imagine devoting the entirety of my life to prayer for causes that seem so abstract and distant at first glimpse.

Over the past few years, though, as I have pushed myself to become more engaged in society and thus, hopefully, more charitable—first by helping with the youth group of my parish, and then by attending graduate school at a large secular university—I have met remarkable people, many of whom are not Catholic, yet have devoted themselves to charitable causes. I have been struck by their large hearts and their good intentions, their sharp intellects and their strong wills. I have befriended Jews and Hindus and Muslims, lapsed Catholics, Protestants, agnostics, and atheists. The better I get to know them, the more tragic I have found it that their notable gifts are not employed in the service of God, for His honor and glory.

Suddenly, in relation to these people, it has become crucial for me to beseech God for their conversion, and not just as an afterthought, a rote request for the salvation of unbelievers. Instead, I literally beg for their salvation, demand that God introduce Himself to them and invite them into His friendship.

Motivated by the awareness that their evident human goodness calls out to be sanctified through union with God, I can overcome self-consciousness or fear so as to talk to them about the Faith (not hounding them, but answering questions honestly when they ask—as they often do). The more I interact with them, the more I realize that my life would be well spent as a witness to the goodness and truth of the Catholic Church, which might, in correspondence with the grace of God, attract them to embrace it. I glimpse the enormous responsibility and holy calling it can be to live in the world in strict correspondence to the law of God. I feel simultaneously terrified by the magnitude of such a life and inspired by its beauty.

Comparing this reaction of mine to the eagerness of the girl with a contemplative vocation, I realize that even if at this exact moment I do not know what the future holds for me, I can say with confidence that the active vocation is mine. God teaches me charity through direct interaction with others; I see His incredible goodness mirrored in them and become motivated to reflect it as well. I accept as its own kind of suffering the fact that I may never know whether my efforts have aided in the conversion of these souls and resign myself to continuing these efforts for the rest of my life, even without apparent reward or result.

Discovering the sanctity of the moment into which God has brought each person is the true Catholic vocation. Some need to follow a path of contemplation to find it; some must commit themselves to an active role in the world. For the single person who is unsure exactly where the next days and months and years of his or her life will lead, at least one question can be settled: am I brought closer to God through direct contemplation of His goodness, or do I meet Him through service to others?

Determining the answer will not remove all suffering for those who desire family life, or who cannot find a religious calling that matches their talents. It may, however, at least alleviate the constant worry that one has somehow mistaken the path of God. With feet solidly grounded on that path, whether it be active or contemplative, the single person can bear his or her cross without worry and in true confidence of God’s providential love. ■