I spent the balance of the evening with the great Timothy Butler. We talked a little politics, some inside baseball about ecclesial politics, and most importantly, women. Praying and hoping for the best, we are.
My brother is totally Rico Suave, so I passed on the highlights of what he said to me. Then we mulled clerical celibacy. Not our cup of tea. Moreover, I think the sacramental nature of the priesthood from where I sit adds a whole other element that many of us while Protestant didn't see. Since Tim gets to have his cake and eat it too, as it were, as a member of the separated brethren, (ahem) he has a special difficulty in being ordained clergy and seeking the vocation of marriage. I told him how even deacons in the Catholic Church must remain celibate if they are ordained while unmarried. He agreed that it might be wiser that way. I would hate to be ministering and be attracted to someone I serve when a romantic relationship is not automatically ruled out. If I were married to someone else or celibate and succumbed to that attraction, my shame is deserved. But if it were licit and still could harm my ministry, I could think of little worse.
I still have great hope for love. To be honest, other than God's love--which I sense I cannot get away from--the two things that move me deeply are writing, and finding that other someone. If I truly sensed that I had a greater calling to religious life or the priesthood, it would grip me like nothing else. Those passions we all have, though strong, would thus mean little. But it seems much deeper. Like some part of me is waiting on the other side of marriage. Not that she is holding it, but that I am not me, entirely. I'm not discontented. I just feel...incomplete. I can't explain it.
I've grown since last April, when I entered the Church. I was downright frustrated, and maybe even angry. I needed marriage and sex like a drug. But this is different. Very. None of us is free from those powerful appetites. But I really want to give. I want to be that missing piece of the puzzle. A bunch of snobby evangelicals liked making fun of the "You complete me" speech in Jerry McGuire, but isn't it true, in some sense? Jerry pointed out that it should have been the greatest moment of his life, but it wasn't, because his wife wasn't there to share it. I totally get that. Billy Chappell said the same thing in For Love Of The Game. Don't all spouses essentially say to each other, "I was great before, but this Me and You thing is way better"?
By the way, "Big Daddy" needs to avail himself of a copy of the latter film, because it's better than good. Just watch it with "Mama," leave the kids out. There's some swearing. I can't watch it too often, because it moves me more than I like to be moved. It's a great romance wrapped in an epic sports movie, and it works. I don't get why, but it does. It's littered with lines you stop and think about, humor, sadness, reflection, and joy. Kevin Costner plays Billy, and he may have done better than Field of Dreams, and that was nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards.
My brother is totally Rico Suave, so I passed on the highlights of what he said to me. Then we mulled clerical celibacy. Not our cup of tea. Moreover, I think the sacramental nature of the priesthood from where I sit adds a whole other element that many of us while Protestant didn't see. Since Tim gets to have his cake and eat it too, as it were, as a member of the separated brethren, (ahem) he has a special difficulty in being ordained clergy and seeking the vocation of marriage. I told him how even deacons in the Catholic Church must remain celibate if they are ordained while unmarried. He agreed that it might be wiser that way. I would hate to be ministering and be attracted to someone I serve when a romantic relationship is not automatically ruled out. If I were married to someone else or celibate and succumbed to that attraction, my shame is deserved. But if it were licit and still could harm my ministry, I could think of little worse.
I still have great hope for love. To be honest, other than God's love--which I sense I cannot get away from--the two things that move me deeply are writing, and finding that other someone. If I truly sensed that I had a greater calling to religious life or the priesthood, it would grip me like nothing else. Those passions we all have, though strong, would thus mean little. But it seems much deeper. Like some part of me is waiting on the other side of marriage. Not that she is holding it, but that I am not me, entirely. I'm not discontented. I just feel...incomplete. I can't explain it.
I've grown since last April, when I entered the Church. I was downright frustrated, and maybe even angry. I needed marriage and sex like a drug. But this is different. Very. None of us is free from those powerful appetites. But I really want to give. I want to be that missing piece of the puzzle. A bunch of snobby evangelicals liked making fun of the "You complete me" speech in Jerry McGuire, but isn't it true, in some sense? Jerry pointed out that it should have been the greatest moment of his life, but it wasn't, because his wife wasn't there to share it. I totally get that. Billy Chappell said the same thing in For Love Of The Game. Don't all spouses essentially say to each other, "I was great before, but this Me and You thing is way better"?
By the way, "Big Daddy" needs to avail himself of a copy of the latter film, because it's better than good. Just watch it with "Mama," leave the kids out. There's some swearing. I can't watch it too often, because it moves me more than I like to be moved. It's a great romance wrapped in an epic sports movie, and it works. I don't get why, but it does. It's littered with lines you stop and think about, humor, sadness, reflection, and joy. Kevin Costner plays Billy, and he may have done better than Field of Dreams, and that was nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards.
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