Ronald Rolheiser on the spirituality of ‘sticking with it’ and priestly celibacy

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Ronald Rolheiser on the spirituality of ‘sticking with it’ and priestly celibacy

Picture left: Oblate Father Ronald Rolheiser delivers the keynote address during the opening of the National Catholic Educational Association’s annual convention in Boston April 11, 2012. Credit: CNS photo/Gregory L. Tracy. The Pilot

Few books on spirituality have been as helpful to me as the wonderful book by Ronald Rolheiser, O.M.I., Sacred Fire, which takes as its focus “Christian maturity.” It is a follow-up work to his wildly popular book The Holy Longing, which is often used by people beginning their journey as Christians.

Father Rolheiser, a member of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate who was for many years the president of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, Tex., is the author of many books and is a popular speaker on Christian spirituality.

What made Sacred Fire so helpful for me was a set of insights on what you might call “sticking with it.” During the “long years of maturity,” Father Rolheiser writes, when it seems like life is a series of tasks and when “the longing for a second honeymoon, mid-life crisis, misunderstanding, disillusionment, and numerous other things can eat away at our fidelity like rust on iron,” we can feel like walking away from our responsibilities and commitments. But crucially, he says, a deeper part of us knows that “real life depends upon staying the course.”

In that same section, which I have underlined and starred in my copy of the book, Father Rolheiser says when tempted to walk away, we often find ourselves asking three questions: “What is the wisest thing to do here?” (An important question.) “What would I most like to do here?” (A question whose answer can sometimes be overly influenced by one’s emotional state). And the key question: “What do I have to do here?”

That section was one of many reasons I was delighted to interview Ron on the latest episode of “The Spiritual Life” podcast. His take on spirituality is wise, clear and helpful. Mind-clearing and soul-filling. To my mind, he is one of the age’s great Christian spiritual masters, a person who can present complicated topics with great lucidity.

Our conversation began with a definition of spirituality, a word that gets bandied about often without much clarity. Ron distinguished it from theology using a homey sports analogy: “Theology only tells you what the rules are, but spirituality is how we are playing or doing the game of discipleship.” We also spoke about how to balance prayer and work, how to live a “monastic” life of prayer without being a monk, how centering prayer can change our lives and a topic that our guests haven’t discussed much on the podcast, but one that is important to both Ron and me: chastity and celibacy.

Of course, we’re all called to chastity (which could be defined as the right use of our sexuality), but men and women in religious orders make a vow of chastity, and priests make a promise of celibacy, which is technically a promise not to marry. For me, chastity is the invitation to love many people deeply and freely, without a commitment to a single person. Ron helpfully describes chastity as “reverence.”

Ron connects celibacy with the principle of solidarity: “When you go to bed alone at night, I’m in solidarity with the real poor of this world. The real poor don’t have anybody…. We have the luxury of making a vow of celibacy. Millions of women and men don’t have that luxury. It’s forced on them.”

Ron’s approach helps us see celibacy not simply as an ascetic practice for the sake of denying ourselves but as intentional solidarity with the loneliest people in the world. In a way, celibacy becomes, among other things, a means of deep communion with those who suffer involuntary isolation.

If you’re a spiritual seeker, you will find this conversation packed with wisdom. But permit me to share one further insight: A few years ago, I came across Ron’s observation that when we are suffering, it sometimes hurts to focus too much on our suffering in prayer. This, in a sense, was the opposite of what I had been taught by many spiritual directors: to be honest with God about your suffering. And Ron is not denying that need for openness, as he notes in our conversation. Rather, the problem is that an “overconcentration” on the suffering can tempt us to become obsessed with it, moving us deeper into ourselves and paralyzing us. The key is focusing, as he says in our interview, on God.

In my own life, though, it has been his insight around “sticking with it” that has been the most helpful. All of us, after a certain age, find ourselves weighed down with many tasks, duties and responsibilities. We know, of course, that when our datebooks become empty in the future, we’ll feel a bit bereft, but all these current tasks can be overwhelming. And, as Ron says, it’s tempting to want to have a “second honeymoon.” (I never had a first honeymoon, but I know what he means!)

For me, this is where vows, promises and commitments come to the fore. Many years ago at the America House Jesuit Community in New York City, I lived with a saintly older Jesuit named John W. Donohue, who was a longtime associate editor at the magazine. One day, I was looking at our community bulletin board, which had a notice from our Jesuit province office about an upcoming meeting of Jesuits. The topic of the meeting was, “What keeps us in the Society of Jesus?”

John said, “That’s a terrible topic!” “Why?” I asked. He turned to me and said: “What keeps me in the Society of Jesus? I made a promise to God that I would stay in the Society of Jesus!” I explained that I thought the topic meant, “What helps me to stay?” John said that was a better question. Years later, when I read Ron’s insights about staying the course, I thought about John’s impassioned comment.

For many reasons, my conversation with Ronald Rolheiser is one of the most fulfilling I’ve had in the short time that this podcast has been around. It’s filled with important insights from a great spiritual master, who has helped me so much and is now here to help you.

By James Martin, S.J.

Published on America The Jesuit Review website