Putting On A New Life
I got a new suit when I took vows as a Jesuit. I want to say that it was not that big of a deal, but it was. See, when we entered the novitiate, we received a small stipend once a month and we had to keep track of all our expenses on this little piece of paper. At the end of the month that little piece of paper would be handed in to the Minister, along with whatever money we had left over, and we would receive another stipend. Our superiors always told us that we were to keep track of our expenditures so that we could become better “stewards of resources.” In my mind, though, I was always a little convinced that I was being tested. There was this little blank space on the last line of our expense sheet that asked how much money the novice would be returning that month. That was the test. A seemingly innocuous little line was devised to reveal whether or not I was truly attuned to the practice of poverty. Since I usually spent all of my money, I often felt that I had been tested and found lacking in this particular virtue. Regardless, despite my shortcomings, by the end of the novitiate I was “approved” for vows. This approval was underlined by the fact that I was entrusted with the money I would need to buy a black suit. I made a mental note that when I bought that suit, I would buy something that was good quality, but also relatively inexpensive. I wanted something that would last, that would show how much I knew about what would be required of this life.
Since I planned on having this suit until I was ordained, for a good ten years, I was careful about choosing a “classic” cut. This idea was placed in my mind by something I had heard an older scholastic say while commenting on life as a Regent. He said that his own vow suit still fit, almost. Unfortunately, he had spent a little too much time eating things he shouldn’t and even a little more time sitting in front of the TV to relax after a 14 hour day, rather than going to the gym to work out. As a result, he had recently experienced more than a little difficulty securing various buttons. Nevertheless, he would work these pounds off at some point and, by the time ordination rolled around, he would be back in the same condition he was when he took first vows. This struck me because I had gained about thirty pounds since entering the novitiate (all within the first three months). What would happen once I took vows? Would I fit the garment that was being cut for me? I wanted this suit to last because that would prove something. I would make a good choice. I would show that I could be a good steward. I would prove that I was worthy of the suit.
Over the next six years I began to live life as a vowed religious. As time wore on, I carried my Jesuit suit with me from place to place, taking it out now and again when duty called. The thing is, while I was very active in various ministerial roles, there was seldom any need to wear the suit I had taken such care to purchase. Soon, I started to realize that while the suit was in decent condition, it was cut in a style that no longer seemed appropriate. This was especially disappointing because, when I bought it, I had not realized that even seemingly “classic” suits might tend to become a little thinner here, and a little wider there. So, while I had thought at one point that the suit was the perfect cut, my ideas about the ideal suit had changed. Then something else happened: I tried on the suit one day and it no longer fit. It was not a weight issue because, first of all, I weighed only a few pounds more than I had as a novice and, second, the real problem was that the suit had become too baggy in the waist and smaller in the shoulders. Again, the suit did not change, it was in great shape, but I was in better shape. Somehow, as I lived my life as a Jesuit, the garment that I bought and believed would accompany me for years, no longer fit.
Light-hearted comments about novitiate expenditures and black garments aside, my understanding of what it is to live as a companion of Jesus is something like that suit. At some point I made a choice to put on my life in Christ. I had an idea of what that life should look like, and I gave myself to it, allowing myself to be formed by the choices and desires that would allow me to wear it well. It was an ideal, cut from my desire to become a good man, shaped by my shortcomings, and held together by my hope in Christ. In the back of my mind I was always measuring myself against that ideal, but even though the basic idea of what it is to live that life never really changed (I still long to be a kind, creative, caring person), my appreciation for how it all fits together failed to remain the same. In Christ I continue to outgrow old ways of thinking. In Jesus, I find that the ideas I have about how to live as a Christian are constantly being replaced, pushed aside in favor of more appropriate ways to live out that call. In this way, the thing I thought was ideal becomes a strangely limited expression of my desire to live, love, and serve as an agent of God, and I find that every day becomes an opportunity to put on a new life in Christ.
Photo: “Buckman Coats 3” by “conorwithonen” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)
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