Vocation

 AMDG

I, a follower of Christ Jesus, to you, fellow followers in all diversity of circumstances. The peace of Our Lord be with you.

At a conference last year, I stopped at a booth for a religious community I had never heard of. I chatted briefly with the two representatives. I liked what I learned, and they were attentive and engaged. One of them was a vocations director, and he asked me if I had considered religious life. Yes, I would love to join religious life. However, I am transgender. Ah. Now he assured me that God is calling me to something. But not to life with his order. I would have to figure it out. The smile was still amiable, but the interest was gone. Here’s a pamphlet about their work in Chicago. Bye.

Vocation comes up a lot in conversation. It’s my anchor into LGBTQ issues. It’s a perpetual topic of advertisement in the church. And it’s something I’m still actively figuring out – and maybe will be for the rest of my time on Earth. But a few things about these conversations make me fidget:

• when vocation means one thing until I disclose being transgender, and then suddenly it means something else
• when people leave the church to answer their vocation
• when people tell me I have a vocation, and how frustrating it must be that I can’t pursue it

What is vocation, anyway?

Usually, people use this word to refer to state of life: marriage, priesthood, religious life, and sometimes “blessed single life” or some other category for free agents of the Lord (and that’s when it doesn’t just mean priesthood or religious life). Alternatively, people will say that it’s not about state of life, but what you do: parent, pastor, teach, heal. This second understanding of vocation is sometimes wielded to its own discredit – as a redirection by vocation recruiters encountering seekers they can’t admit, as in my case, or as a weapon with which to criticize someone who shares that they are called to religious life, as in the case of a friend of mine.

Jesus doesn’t call the disciples by giving them a title and a rule of life. He calls them to follow him. To be fishers of people. To feed his sheep. To perform signs and spread the good news. The Jesuit Norms even remind religious that “the following of Christ proposed to us in the Gospels” is “the ultimate norm of religious life.” God calls us to give ourselves totally to God, which we accomplish not through any static state but in what we do and how we do it. State of life only supports this mission, and is inconceivable without it. But in reverse, the mission does not depend on the state of life. We are all called to love God and to give of ourselves, in diverse ways and with perhaps different levels of zeal. The call to give oneself totally to and for God is both beginning and end.

But this doesn’t even take into account that vocation is communal. Joining religious life is not solely a matter of personal fulfillment; it is a choice deeply integrated with the lives of others, the lives of institutions, and society at large. Its purpose is others-oriented. It is communally lived. And it should be communally discerned. God provides for the needs of his people, so one part of discerning your own vocation is being aware of the needs of the community. For myself, I consider the needs of religious orders. I know that capable discerners have been turned away because they clashed with members of the order. How would my joining make members feel? Would it be fair to force myself on them? I also consider the voice of the community; how many friends and neighbors implicitly or explicitly promote me for religious life? Shouldn’t that mean something? And I consider the church’s need for more priests, deacons, missionaries, and teachers. Where do I fit into this? To what am I drawn only because of my innate desire to fix everything, what am I avoiding because it’s uncomfortable, and what is God suggesting?

In my life, I have pursued a career and volunteer ministries I felt called to based on interest, connection, and passion. I felt the calling to the Jesuits from many angles—service, learning, and community, to name three. The process and progress of discerning God’s call is complex for each person. People grapple with the vision of being a parent or spouse, with the desire for belonging, with a passion for a particular work, with an admirable but abstract desire to glorify God. Vocation has so many more dimensions than state of life.

So what is my calling?

What am I called to? For one thing, to holiness. I’ve come to realize and accept that in the grand scheme of things, we will not be judged on what we have done but on how we have done it. All of the virtues, with Love crowned among them, are what we ought to cultivate. And just as faith cannot be without works, neither can virtue cannot bloom without a fragrance that will change the world.

I am also called to follow Jesus. This is the part of my vocation that I experience as a calling, like a voice in the woods or bells in the distance. It’s magnetic, alluring, and unsettling. And unclear! I know which Gospel passages stir me up. I know that I want to let go, I want to set out, I want to serve. I want to imitate Jesus and follow his commands.

And state of life? The truth is, vocation feels horribly disappointing when reduced to a state of life that is categorically out of reach. In faith, pragmatism, and frustration I try to be detached about the state of life part. It is something I give up, part of my poverty, my chastity, and my obedience. I remind myself that religious life isn’t perfect: it can be lonely, challenging, and unsatisfying. I ask myself, if I could put together the pieces of apostolic community, lifestyle, and mission, could it be just as good? And even if I could say “forever”, would that actually satisfy me, or would I still be on the restless journey all my life until my homecoming to my Lover?

Conclusion

I know that I am, categorically, a lay person. There’s no shame or problem in the category. But when “lay person” becomes an identity statement, that chafes. “Lay person” is not my vocation. I am striving to live the religious model. But more than that – I have a beautiful vocation. I love the voice calling in the woods, the bells ringing over the hills, my God beckoning me forward like a parent to their toddler. I love being called to my own splendid holiness, to mission, to meaningful relationship. My living vocation is something uniquely and exquisitely mine, such a precious gift from God.

What’s next

I’ve been thinking for a long time about making private vows. I’m researching as I can, looking toward the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus as a possible date.

I have my left and right hands in more pots than I think I realize. Nothing new. I’m praying for some outreach of mine to bear fruit. I may have agreed this morning to be someone’s confirmation sponsor.

Most excitingly, since I started writing this post, signals have changed. I owned a senior animal, a dear companion, who was past the age of re-homing. Although I had been interested in several things, such as a change in work, being rid of my house, moving into community, or something more radical to create a clean break, I had discerned that I was still in a period of formation, waiting, and listening. I decided that the right time to move forward would be when my pet passed away, which according the vet would happen by 2027. Unexpectedly, last month, that time came. Thus I received two guests at my door: grief and active discernment.

This all happened just in time to squeeze in my application for the spiritual exercises this winter. I may or may not be accepted.

And I am in time to discern and apply this winter for lay mission work which would begin in the fall of 2025.

So, it is a very exciting time for me. Please pray for me, that I can manage my time well these next few months, and make time several nights per week to really pray. If you can pray also for my friend M, for his healing, protection, and relationships, I would be thankful. I would love to pray for you. May God bless you in your wonderful vocation.

Peace,

Your Other Brother