Quick Question: Are consecrated virgins called to pray for priests?

Short answer: Yes.

Longer answer: Prayer for priests per se isn’t necessarily the central aspect of our vocation, although consecrated virgins would certainly seem to be called to pray for the local clergy of their dioceses in at least a general way.

The praenotanda of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity lists prayer as one of the “principle duties of those consecrated.”* It is worth noting that in the original Latin typical edition, the word for “duties” is actually “munera,” a word that is often translated in other context as “offices.” In many ways, an office represents a more profound obligation that a mere duty. Whereas a “duty” might refer to a simple task, an “office” is more intrinsically linked to the concept of vocation and thus ultimately to a person’s very being. Identifying consecrated virgins as having an “office” of prayer underscores how essential prayer is to our vocation.

Yet at the same time it can be noted that a call to be especially dedicated to prayer, even to intercessory prayer, is different from a specific call to intercede for a specific intention. Some religious Orders, such as the Discalced Carmelites and the Handmaids of the Precious Blood, do have “prayer for priests” as a characteristic and central element of their founding charism. The Ordo virginum, in contrast, historically lacks this same heavy direct emphasis on intercessory prayer for the clergy.

Likewise, in the suggested homily supplied in the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity, the bishop exhorts the soon-to-be-consecrated virgin to:

“Make it your concern to pray fervently for the spread of the Christian faith and for the unity of all Christians.  Pray earnestly to God for the welfare of the married. Remember also those who have forgotten their Father’s goodness and have abandoned his love, so that God’s mercy may forgive where his justice must condemn.”

Some consecrated virgins have observed that priests are not included in this “to-do list” of intentions, pointing out that this lack could be taken to indicate that consecrated virgins do not have any sort of special call to pray for the clergy.

However, these above-mentioned points are more about the simple absence of a directive for consecrated virgins to pray specifically for priests. And although points of silence in the law can be interesting and even meaningful, it is often difficult to draw firm conclusions based on silences alone.

Therefore, it is important to consider the more detailed and explicit discussion on consecrated virgins’ obligation of intercessory prayer found in the 2018 Instruction Ecclesiae Sponsae Imago (ESI). Among other places, ESI 43—a section which discusses some of the spiritual aspects of a consecrated virgin’s bond with her diocese—directs consecrated virgins to “…bring to prayer the needs of the Diocese and, in particular, the intentions of the Bishop.”

If a consecrated virgin is asked to intercede specifically for the needs of her diocese and the intentions of the bishop, it would be hard to imagine any sense in which this could possibly not encompass prayer for the local diocesan clergy. I.e., what diocesan bishop wouldn’t have the welfare of his priests as a principle personal prayer intention? And how could the spiritual support of priests not be a real need of the diocese?

In light of these considerations, I believe it is reasonable to conclude that consecrated virgins are indeed called to pray for priests—or at the very least, for the priests of their respective dioceses.

But since prayer for priests is referenced only implicitly here, I think it is reasonable to conclude that “prayer for priests” as such is not a distinctive characteristic element of the charism of the Ordo virginum (even while we should still keep in mind that the spiritual support of our local diocesan Church is). At the same time, consecrated virgins’ call to intercede for the local clergy is still implied rather strongly, so I think it would also be incorrect to regard “prayer for priests” as something somehow alien to our vocation.

This relative ambiguity gives individual consecrated virgins some freedom to discern for themselves how prominently intercessory prayer for priests will factor into their own personal spiritual lives. For example, I think it would be praiseworthy for one consecrated virgin to focus especially on offering prayers and sacrifices for the sanctification of the clergy, but equally legitimate for another consecrated virgin to pray for priests in a more perfunctory way as part of her overall prayers for the needs of her local Church. Absent any special prayer request from her bishop, I would say that this is the sort of matter that an individual consecrated virgin to discern with her spiritual director.

(Photo by Fr. Bryan Jerabek, who was my classmate in my canon law program, and whom I reasonably presume doesn't mind me using it here!)

Pope Francis on Spiritual Motherhood

Icon of Mary, Mother of the Church, overlooking St. Peter's square

“The consecrated woman is a mother, she must be a mother, not a ‘spinster!’ Excuse me for speaking like this, but motherhood in the consecrated life is important, this fruitfulness! May this joy of spiritual fecundity motivate your life; be mothers, as a figure of Mary, Mother, and of Mother Church. It is impossible to understand Mary without her motherhood; it is impossible to understand the Church apart from her motherhood and you are icons of Mary and the Church.”

 – Pope Francis’ address to religious superiors, May 8, 2013.  (Full text here.)

Letter to a Newly Consecrated Virgin

Dear sister in Christ,

Maybe we know each other in real life, or maybe we’ve only “met” over the internet, or maybe you’ve just stumbled upon this blog. We may have corresponded over many years, or we may have just exchanged one or two emails, or perhaps you don’t know me at all. Whatever the case may be, if you are a newly-consecrated virgin, I first of all send my warm and heartfelt congratulations. I hope your consecrated life brings you many years of joy and happiness, crowned with an eternal reward!

I know it’s usually presumptuous to offer unasked-for advice, but I remember when I was in your shoes—that is, newly consecrated and happy about it, but still trying to “find my feet” in a new vocation—and I think it would have helped me to have had some more honest insights about the lived reality of life as a consecrated virgin. My own thoughts at this point may or may not resonate with you, but after living more than a decade of consecrated life myself, hopefully I’ll still have something helpful to share.

And so here are some of the things I wish an “older sister” would have said to me all those years ago:

1. This is just the beginning of a new life.

Your consecration may have in some ways felt like a culmination, or like a conclusion of some sort, but it wasn’t; it was only the very beginning of a new life. This might be a bit more readily obvious to those of us who were consecrated in our twenties or thirties (though even for us younger ones, there still might have been a sense of “finally, I’m done discerning my vocation!”). But I think this is true for newly-consecrated virgins of all ages.

Consecrated virginity is unique among forms of consecrated life in that presumes that we have already been living an exceptionally chaste life for a number of years. Or really, it presumes that our entire lives have been virtuous in this way. Yet our consecration isn’t meant as a reward-like recognition or acknowledgment of this. Rather, as the Rite of Consecration tells us, it’s a call to continue living this life of virtue “with a new grace and [consecrated] to God by a new title.” In our consecration, the natural virtue of chastity, which even the classical pagans valued, takes on a new supernatural dimension as an eschatological sign of Christ’s love for the Church. And in addition to the universal call to holiness we received at baptism, in our consecration we are embracing a new, special, and privileged call to be a bride of Christ in a radical and more literal way.

Of course your consecration day itself will always be important in your memory. But I think you’ll find that if you live your vocation well, over the years the emotional and spiritual weight of the day will start to feel very secondary to the many years of fidelity you will have offered the Lord. In fact, I think there may be even greater joy in perseverance. Each passing year of your consecrated life becomes a self-gift you offer to your divine Spouse, a gift which is just as precious as that first self-offering you made on your consecration day.

2. Your life is different now.

Even if prior to consecration you were sincerely striving to “live the life of a consecrated virgin,” and even if your exterior life looks the same, the fact of the matter is that your life is different now. And so are you!

This isn’t talked about as much as it probably should be, and my impression is that many newly-consecrated virgins often feel a bit unsettled post-consecration without really knowing why. But I think this is due to the “growing pains” involve in adjusting to a new identity. It takes time to adjust to a new identity, but I believe that in most cases this struggle is normal and healthy. I actually think I would be more worried about a new consecrated virgin who didn’t struggle at all with this, because it would make me wonder if she was fully processing what had happened to her spiritually or if she was fully grasping the weight of what she had committed to.

On an interior level, among other things, you may find yourself being drawn to a greater spirit of simplicity or evangelical poverty—that is, a more profound detachment from worldly things. This is really a great grace!

Don’t resist this grace, even if it might conflict with your idea of what life as a consecrated virgin is supposed to be like. Maybe let go of some ideas, such as the thought that you’ll be something like “a normal woman living in the world like anybody else.”  Naturally, you probably will blend in a little better than a nun or fully habited Sister would, and the hope is that people will see you as approachable. But the consecration will make you different from laywomen, as well making you a bit weird from a worldly perspective. But let your “weirdness” unfold naturally according to the inspirations and providential circumstances the Lord sends you, so that this weirdness can serve His purposes.

There will also be some practical adjustments involved in assuming your new vocation, which may seem subtle from an outside point of view, but which will still require some careful discernment on your part. You are a public representative of the Church now, and we can rightly say you are now an icon of the Church, or an “image of the Church as Bride” (i.e., an “Ecclesiae Sponsae Imago”). To a significant extent, everything you now do should be an expression of what the Church would do. E.g., when you are kind and fair, even in the small interactions of daily life, this is a reflection of the Church as loving and just. Our sins are of course our own and nobody else’s, but the other side of this coin is that our lack of kindness, patience, courage, or any other virtue has the potential to reflect badly on the Church in the eyes of others. And in general, when you have entered a public state of consecrated life, the faithful will expect more of you…as they are indeed fully entitled to do.

Because of this, it may be necessary to re-evaluate certain aspects of your life. For example, you may find you need to be more reserved in some ways, or more selective about whom you let into your circle of close personal friends. There might be some social invitations that, while not sinful, you will need to gracefully turn down. Or on the other hand, you might also find you need to be more friendly or even “pastoral” to people you otherwise wouldn’t have talked to! You may even discern it’s necessary to start dressing or introducing yourself differently.

It can be a bit daunting at first, but be patient with yourself as you do this hard work of discernment. (And obviously keep in conversation with your bishop, spiritual director, and trusted mentors as you do this!)

3. Know that you’re still being formed.

At this point in history, it can more or less be taken for granted that a newly-consecrated virgin today (at least in the United States) will not have had a perfect formation experience. This makes sense when you consider how relatively recently the Ordo virginum was revived as its own distinct state in life.  Even in a best-case scenario, with an attentive bishop motivated to provide a decent structured formation program, as a contemporary Church we simply don’t have enough collective lived experience to provide formation that is perfectly comprehensive for all aspiring consecrated virgins everywhere. That is, it’s likely going to take us a while longer to figure out exactly what the specific formation needs of consecrated virgins are, along with the best practical ways to address these needs. (Though as a point of reference, consider that it wasn’t until the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century that the Church adopted the first versions of our modern seminary system for the formation of priests!)

Although this does put us at an obvious disadvantage, I think much of the disadvantage of having had a less-than-perfect formation experience can be mitigated by simply being aware of and accepting the reality of the situation. Being aware of our areas for potential or needed growth can help us take care to make up for what is lacking, and “knowing what you don’t know” is crucial for avoiding mistakes that our possible blind spots may cause.

Also keep in mind that the Holy Spirit is the best of all formators, and He will help us in the ways we need, but only if we are truly docile and open to Him.

And alluding to my earlier point, receiving the concretion itself is a highly formative event. No amount of prior study can compare to the experience of actually being consecrated. So even if you were blessed enough to have had an excellent formation program, know that post-consecration you are still being formed by both your lived experience of consecrated life and by the graces you received in your consecration. God willing, each passing year as a consecrated virgin will make you an ever more fitting spouse of Christ.

4. You’ll have share in the cross in a new way.

The Church describes even natural human marriage as “a partnership of the whole of life.” (CIC canon 1055 §1) Spouses are called to share everything, including all their joys and sorrows. This is true also for those of us who have Christ as our spouse. In a mysterious way that words can’t quite describe, your consecration will give you a new and more intimate window into Christ’s suffering and passion.

This is not just pious sentiment. In my own experience and having talked with numerous consecrated virgins over the years, it seems to be quite common that new consecrated virgins will encounter some sort of new and extraordinary—and at times even uncanny—suffering shortly following their consecration. This might be the result of exterior life circumstances, a purely interior spiritual trial, or some combination of these.

Of course, suffering by definition is never pleasant, and I certainly wouldn’t wish it on anyone, much less my sisters in the Ordo virginum. But if there is a consolation in this, to me when a newly consecrated virgin does encounter some sort of unexpected trial, paradoxically I’m inclined to see this as a positive sign in her vocation. That is, it can be a sign that her consecration really “worked,” and that Jesus took her at her word when she said “yes” to His call to a life of greater union with Him.

The old saying that God can never be outdone in generosity is certainly true. And for the sake of a healthy spirituality in consecrated life it’s important to remember that while God at times permits suffering for a greater good, He does not actively desire us to be in pain—and in fact, it’s God’s will to bring us to a place where “He will wipe every tear from [our] eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain.” (Revelation 21:4)

But for those of us who have committed to remaining with Jesus “wherever He goes,” (cf. Revelation 14:4) we can look on it as a privilege when He invites us to remain with Him so personally in His darkest but most triumphant hour.

5. Your happiness, even in this life, will depend on your generosity.

Finally, perhaps the most important thing to understand about living out a vocation to consecrated virginity is that there really are no half-measures. A consecrated virgin either gives the Lord absolutely everything, thereby receiving everything (and more!) from Him in return; or else her life becomes empty, silly, and fruitless.

I think this point is worth spelling out, because a common misconception among women first discerning this vocation is that consecrated virginity is sort of a way to have one’s cake and eat it, too—as in, a way to nominally “give everything to God” while still maintaining all of one’s worldly interests and activities as usual, or as a way to receive the graces and honors of consecrated life in the Church without having to make the often painful sacrifices inherent in joining a religious community.

This fundamental misunderstanding of our vocation is insidious because it contains a small grain of truth. For example, consecrated virgins generally don’t have a moment equivalent to crossing the threshold of an enclosure like a postulant in a cloistered monastery does, nor do consecrated virgins typically make a point to limit contact with family and friends or restrict their communication with “the world.”

Yet readily apparent or not, consecrated virginity still demands a radical shift in perspective and attitude from “worldly” orientation to one deeply informed by the Evangelical counsels. This is not just something the Church specifically asks of us—although she does (see ESI 27)—but it’s something built into the very nature of our commitment.

Marriage natural parenthood are so deeply inscribed in the human heart that the act of altogether renouncing these things leaves a void. The idea in consecrated virginity, or even consecrated celibacy in general, is that we allow Christ to superabundantly fill this void. But the catch is that He can only do this is He is the only one we allow to fulfill us in this way.

If we try to fill the void with other human things, even other intrinsically good human things, inevitably such things will come to be seen and understood as trivial in the at least the big picture. Devoting ourselves to things other than Jesus Christ and His body, the Church is what will leave us a the sad and gloomy old maids that Pope Francis warns against (cf. his May 8, 2013 address to Superiors General) instead of the radiant brides of Christ and spiritual mothers that we are called to be.

Obviously, as a newly-consecrated virgin you are far past the question of discerning your state in life, and thus beyond the concerns and misperceptions of those who are first inquiring. But sometimes, in the midst of the fatigue that can come about in the day-to-day life of a consecrated person, it can be easy to forget about the joy of a total self-gift. When God seems silent or the Church seems unsupportive, it can be tempting to grasp at consolation wherever we can find it, even in the passing things of this world. But we need to remember, as the Prophet Isaiah wrote: “Why spend your money for what is not bread; your wages for what does not satisfy?” (Isaiah 55:2)

In all circumstances of life, including the challenging ones, the surest way to happiness is to turn your heart ever more intently towards your Divine Spouse.

Our holy sister St. Agnes was said to have gone to her martyrdom more joyfully than most people go to their weddings. If we imitate the single-hearted intensity with which St. Agnes gave herself to the Lord, I am certain that we will also share in her deep and astonishing joy.

With love, in Christ,

Jenna

Tenth Anniversary Reflection

Better late than never!

This past January, I celebrated my tenth (!!!) anniversary of consecrated life. It has been an interesting ten years—since my consecration day, I have spent three years living in Rome, finished two graduate degrees, written a book and several popular articles, served as a parish director of religious education and as an ecclesiastical tribunal Judge, made numerous wonderful friends, and have grown in many other ways personally and spiritually. Over all, I am grateful to God for the gift of perseverance!

Here is the anniversary reflection I wrote for the February 2019 issue of the U.S. Association of Consecrated Virgins' newsletter, “The Lamp”:

***

After a life-long friendship with God, I first felt called to be a bride of Christ when I was twelve years old. I just fell completely in love, once and for all. At eighteen I began visiting religious communities, and while I met a number of admirable nuns and religious Sisters, none of the communities I visited completely resonated with the specific way I felt called in my heart. When I was nineteen, a local priest gave me a copy of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity, and upon reading it I knew instantly that this was my vocation. In particular, I was drawn to the central charism of a spousal relationship with Christ; to the spirituality of evangelical virginity; to this vocation’s special bond with the local diocesan Church; toward the Rite’s emphasis on praying the Liturgy of the Hours; and especially to the fact that this vocation was a call to follow in the footsteps of the Church’s early virgin-martyr saints, like St. Agnes and the other women mentioned in the Roman Canon at Mass.

           

Initially I was turned away from the consecration of virgins for being too young, but after two more years of visiting religious communities, I tried approaching my home Archdiocese of New York again, and at that point I was accepted as a candidate for consecration. I was solemnly consecrated to a life of virginity at Sacred Heart Church in Newburgh, NY on January 3, 2009, when I was twenty-three years old and a recent college graduate.

           

I can honestly say that I am even happier to be a bride of Christ now than I was on the day of my consecration. Although there have been many challenges over the past ten years, they have only made my vocation more precious to me. As I’ve grown older, I’ve found I have a new sense of glad astonishment that God would be so gracious as to call me to this kind of relationship with Himself.

           

As I reflect on my tenth anniversary of consecrated life, one image that has been frequently coming to mind is the Lamb of God. Most obviously, consecrated virgins are called to be “the Image of the Church as Bride”; that is, the “Bride of the Lamb” mentioned in Revelation 21:9.

But more personally, the Gospel for the actual day of my tenth anniversary was John 1:29-34, where John the Baptist points to Jesus and declares: “Behold the Lamb of God.” I was reminded by the priest celebrating a Mass of Thanksgiving that day that this is my mission, too—to be a witness pointing others towards Jesus, who is the Lamb.

I was reminded as well that as lambs were used for sacrificial worship in Old Testament, Jesus is the Lamb of God because he offered Himself as a sacrifice.  On the day of my consecration it was very much my hope and intention to offer myself as a living sacrifice to the Lord in the same spirit that saints like Agnes offered their lives. It can be easy to forget the joy that comes with a spirit of radical self-offering, but ten years after my consecration I’ve realized how important it is to continually renew this resolve in my heart.

Finally, my consecrated life has brought me to places I never would have guessed, including three years living in Rome as a canon law student; and then later, an unexpected but clearly providential call to serve the Church in the Diocese of Winona-Rochester in Minnesota as a staff canonist and coordinator of the marriage tribunal. Even amidst the difficulties of leaving home and family for a new and unfamiliar place, there’s a greater peace in recalling that virgins are the ones who “follow the Lamb wherever He goes.” (Revelation 14:4) My prayer after ten years is that I will always be given the grace to follow the Lamb wherever He leads me.

January 3, 2009

January 3, 2019 - after a Mass of Thanksgiving, in the very same Church!

On the feast of St. Agnes, a second Mass of Thanksgiving in Minnesota,
in our Diocesan Office chapel with local diocesan priests.

Feast of St. Mary Magdalen

 A blessed feast of St. Mary Magdalen to all my sisters in Christ around the world!

Although there is a long-standing tradition in the Latin Church of regarding her as a penitent sinner, I still find St. Mary Magdalen to be an especially meaningful saint for me in my life as a consecrated virgin.

The Gospel accounts portray St. Mary Magdalen as one of Christ’s closest follows. She was one of the small handful of Jesus’ friends who remained with Him during His passion and death on the cross, and she was privileged to be the first disciple to announce the good news of the Resurrection.

The Church expresses the depth of St. Mary Magdalen’s love for Christ in the almost bridal overtones in the liturgy for her feast day. For example, one of the antiphons for Lauds (Morning Prayer) reads:

“My heart burns within me; I long to see my Lord; I look for him, but I cannot find where they have put him, alleluia.”

But perhaps most strikingly, one of the options for the first reading at today’s Mass is taken from the Song of Songs (and this is one of the very few instances where the Song of Songs is included in the lectionary):

On my bed at night I sought himwhom my soul loves—I sought him but I did not find him.“Let me rise then and go about the city,through the streets and squares;Let me seek him whom my soul loves.”I sought him but I did not find him.The watchmen found me,as they made their rounds in the city:“Him whom my soul loves—have you seen him?”Hardly had I left themwhen I found him whom my soul loves. (Songof Songs 3:1-4a)

Who Can Be Called a Bride of Christ?

Whenever I’m asked what is the most central element of a vocation to consecrated virginity, without hesitation I always answer: the call to be a bride of Christ. All other aspects of this vocation revolve around this core identity and specific form of self-gift. The centrality of this vocation’s spousal element is clearly stated in both the Code of Canon Law as well as in the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity itself. It’s also very evident in the personal vocations stories of most consecrated virgins.

However, I’ve found that sometimes people are still confused by the spousal dimension of consecrated virginity, perhaps owing to the fact that this sort of bridal imagery has so often been associated with nuns and religious Sisters. For example, at times some Catholics will assume that only women religious can be “real brides of Christ.” In other cases, I’ve heard it argued that the Church intended to discourage the use of bridal spirituality altogether among consecrated women in general after Vatican II. Much more rarely, I’ve even encountered some consecrated virgins who have maintained (quite mistakenly, in my opinion) that it would be wrong for women religious who have not received the Rite of Consecration to identify themselves brides of Christ, based on the notion that only consecrated virgins have the right to regard themselves this way.

Given the potential for misunderstandings, I thought it would be good to have a discussion about what it means to be a bride of Christ, who is called to this role within the Church, and the ways in which such a special vocation might be received.

Some preliminary clarifications

But before anything else, let’s be clear on exactly what we’re talking about. The Church uses the term “bride of Christ” to describe a number of different (albeit often overlapping or inter-related) concepts.

First and foremost, the title “bride of Christ” belongs to the Church herself in the fullest and truest sense. We know this is true from a wide number of scriptural references, and also from the Church’s constant theological tradition. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it: “The Church is the Bride of Christ: he loved her and handed himself over for her. He has purified her by his blood and made her the fruitful mother of all God's children.” (CCC 808)

Because the Church is also the people of God, formed from the countless number of baptized members, I believe we can say that all of the faithful—both on collective and individual levels—share in the Church’s “brideship.” Therefore, I don’t think it would be wrong to say that there is a certain sense in which each and every baptized Christian is called to be a “bride,” insofar as they are incorporated into the body of Christ’s bride, the Church.

We can also speak of Christ as the true Bridegroom of each individual soul, since He is ultimately the source of all fulfillment for every human heart. This is why spousal or bridal imagery is regularly employed in a metaphorical or analogical way by theologians who write about the spiritual life. Some good examples of this can be found in the writings of St. John of the Cross or St. Bernard of Clairvaux. In the Carmelite tradition especially, the expression “mystical marriage” is used almost as a technical term to describe the most advanced stages of contemplative prayer.

“Bridehood” as special call

All of the above-mentioned ways of being a bride of Christ apply in a general way to all of the faithful. For instance, our participation in the brideship of the Church can be thought of as a universal, “automatic” consequence of baptism. And on a more personally specific level, even while the spiritual phenomenon of mystical marriage might be a rare occurrence in actual reality, this kind of call to complete union with God is God’s intended destiny for all His children. That is, it’s not a state He wants to reserve only for a chosen few, but is rather the culmination of each and every Christian vocation.

But in addition to these more general ways of using bridal imagery, I think we can also speak of a call to be a bride of Christ in a more restricted, special “vocational” sense—i.e., the sense in which some women are called to live as a bride of Christ in a much more radical way, as their state in life.

Since Apostolic times, there have always been some Christian women who  felt called to renounce the possibility of an earthly marriage in order to dedicate themselves Christ in as complete and total a way as they could. Or in other words, they were offering Christ all the love and devotion that they would have otherwise given to an earthly husband and children. In relation to the rest of the baptized faithful, such women can rightfully be considered espoused to Christ in a more radical, concrete, and literal sense. They could be appropriately regarded as being “brides of Christ” in a special way, as their spirituality and way of life is, for fairly obvious reasons, not something to which the baptized in general are all called.

For example, men categorically are not called to be “brides of Christ” in this particular sense, since this kind of more-or-less literal “bridehood” is an essentially feminine reality. That is, a man in his masculine nature is not able to relate to Christ as his Bridegroom in the same strong sense as a woman can in her femininity. Similarly, a married woman cannot take Christ as her spouse in this same direct way, since she has already committed herself to a mortal husband.

“Brides of Christ” from a historical perspective

Historically, the Church first formally acknowledged this special call to live as a bride of Christ through the consecration of virgins. From all appearances, in the Church’s first few centuries, the call to be a consecrated virgin was considered one and the same with call to be Christ’s bride. However, in subsequent centuries, as the Roman persecution of Christians subsided, other forms of consecrated life in the Church began to develop. This included the earliest versions of what we today would know as “religious life,” or a vowed consecrated life lived in community according to a specific Rule and a particular foundational spirituality.

Although religious life properly so-called was (and is) distinct from consecrated virginity per se, some of the first precursors to women’s religious life were communities of already-consecrated virgins who chose to live together in order to receive mutual support in living out their vocation. But with the rise of organized monastic life in late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages, laywomen would enter monasteries and then subsequently receive the consecration of virgins at a later point, often in conjunction with their solemn profession of religious vows.

Because of this, the consecration of virgins came to be closely associated with religious life for women. Many ritual or liturgical elements which originally pertained specifically to the consecration of virgins—such as the reception of the veil, or committing one’s life to Christ in the presence of the local bishop—later became more strongly identified with women’s religious life, especially as the custom of consecrating non-monastic virgins was gradually falling out of practice.

Even while the newer medieval women’s religious Orders (e.g., the Poor Clares and Dominican nuns) did not continue the custom of bestowing the consecration of virgins upon their solemnly professed nuns, they continued to identify with the title “spouse of Christ.” Likewise, once the more modern congregations of active Sisters began to develop, the traditional use of “bridal” imagery continued to be a common theme in the spirituality and theology of women’s religious life. 

Towards the mid-twentieth century, it was to the point that, rightly or wrongly, the call to be a bride of Christ was considered more or less synonymous with the call for a woman to become a religious—especially since non-religious consecrated virgins had become little more than a distant memory in life of the Church at the time.

After Vatican II

Although the Second Vatican Council certainly did not introduce any true doctrinal changes, it did clarify several theological points related to the Church’s own inner structure and nature.  Because of this, after the Council the Church began to approach many elements of her theology on consecrated life from a somewhat different (or perhaps we could say a renewed) point of view. That is, the Church sought to promote a fuller understanding of the history, fundamental nature, and the original inspirations behind the various expressions of consecrated life.

This renewed perspective would later be reflected in the Church’s legislation, especially in the new Code of Canon Law which was to be promulgated several years later in 1983. It would also be evident in many magisterial documents, such as John Paul II’s 1991 post-synodal exhortation Vita Consecrata, as well as in many of the revised liturgical rites.

Concretely, some of the results of this renewal were:

- the 1970 revision of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity, which also effected the re-establishment of the ancient Order of Virgins as a recognized form of consecrated life in its own right;

- religious life being recognized as a vocation which is essentially the same for both men and women (unlike the earlier 1917 Code of Canon Law, the canons on religious life in the post-Vatican II Code make virtually no distinctions between men’s and women’s institutes);

- the expression “consecrated life” no longer being considered a strict synonym for “religious life”—it was clarified that “consecrated life” is an umbrella term encompassing a wide variety of forms, with religious life properly so-called being just one particular expression among others.

The question at hand

So, if consecrated virginity is the vocation which is explicitly identified with the call to be a bride of Christ, and if religious life per se is understood as something different from consecrated virginity, is it still appropriate for religious Sisters and nuns who aren’t consecrated virgins to call themselves brides of Christ?

I think the answer here would have to be a qualified “yes and no.” That is, a general “yes” for most practical purposes, and a more limited “no” when we’re dealing with precise technical theological and canonical issues.

To start with the “no” part of the answer, it can be noted that consecrated virgins are the only ones whom the Church’s law describes as being “mystically espoused to Christ” (“Christo Dei Filio mystice desponsantur,” cf. can. 604). And as is clear from even a cursory reading of the Rite of Consecration, consecrated virginity as a vocation is directly ordered around the call to be a bride of Christ. That is, the call to be a bride of Christ is absolutely essential to the call to become a consecrated virgin; the vocation cannot be understood apart from this central call. A spousal call is not just a non-negotiable element of consecrated virginity, but it is also its single most defining element.

On the other hand, canon law never once identifies the call to be a bride of Christ with religious vows as such. Religious life, for both men and women, is not understood as being fundamentally a literal spousal relationship with Jesus. Rather, it is an approved way of life centered around following Christ more closely through vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. In contrast with consecrated virginity, the basic concept of religious life can be grasped without referencing a call to be a bride of Christ.

This difference can be seen not only in the Church’s law, but also in the two vocations’ respective liturgies. In the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity, nearly every single prayer explicitly references the spousal dimension of this vocation. In comparison, the “generic” liturgy that the Church provides for profession in women’s religious community contains relatively few bridal references. And when the Rite of Religious Profession for Women does allude to bridal spirituality, these bridal references tend to be much more abstract and general in their tone (so abstract, in fact, that virtually all of these references could reasonably be applied to all Christians in our common baptismal consecration).

Different religious communities typically have their own proper customs, liturgies, and vow formulae for profession. Some communities do choose to employ abundant bridal imagery in their vow ceremonies, while other communities opt not to include any sort of nuptial language at all in their profession liturgies. That is, individual religious communities are free to emphasize or de-emphasize spousal imagery according to their own unique spirituality and charism. The fact that communities have this sort of freedom would seem to suggest that while a call to identify as a spouse of Christ can harmonize with a religious vocation, it would not seem to be absolutely essential to religious life as an overall category.

Additionally, in a handful of cloistered communities, nuns not only make religious profession, but also receive the consecration of virgins. Since the Church has these two different rituals which are both permitted to be received by the same person, it would follow that these two liturgies are meant attain different ends. Since we know that the consecration of virgins is explicitly intended as a betrothal to Christ, we can therefore gather that religious profession in and of itself must have something other than espousal with Christ as its direct object.

So to sum it up a bit roughly, bridal imagery is more or less optional for religious, but is absolutely necessary for consecrated virgins. Therefore, it might be right to say that consecrated virgins are brides of Christ in a special strong sense, insofar as they are the only ones who are officially recognized as brides of Christ as a direct consequence of their particular vocation.

However…

But now we move on the “yes” part of the answer. Even while consecrated virgins may be the only “canonical” spouses of Christ, it would be wrong to ignore the Church’s venerable and extensive custom of using bridal imagery in reference to professed religious women. We also have the witness of countless faithful women religious—whether they be great mystics of the Church like St. Teresa of Avila or the more ordinary Sister serving at the local school or parish—who have experienced their calling and vocation in a distinctly spousal way. Additionally, we should remember that many canonized lay women, such as St. Kateri Teckawitha and St. Catherine of Siena, saw themselves as responding to a very real call to be a bride of Christ through the making of a private vow.

Yet if we’ve already established that it is specifically the consecration of virgins, as opposed to religious vows or any other kind of commitment, which formally marks a woman as a bride of Christ, how could we then consider non-members of the Order of Virgins as being brides of Christ as well? Wouldn’t this seem a bit inconsistent? Or could we even reasonably ask whether or not calling all consecrated women “brides of Christ” runs the risk of emptying the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity of its meaning and significance?

Perhaps the key here is to frame the questions properly by making some more nuanced distinctions. In particular, it would seem that we can distinguish between: 1. the objective theological reality of being interiorly called to relate to Christ as one’s spouse; and 2. the Church’s public, canonical recognition of this. While of course there is certainly significant overlap between these two concepts, it might be helpful if we could recognize that they are nevertheless slightly different things. Working from this premise, it would be reasonable to conclude that actually living as a bride of Christ may perhaps be something which can happen even apart from officially receiving the title “Sponsa Christi.”

To this end, perhaps it is possible to resolve the apparent conflict over who can be called a bride of Christ by acknowledging the grace to relate to Christ as a spouse as a charism, with the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity being the Church’s way of strengthening and confirming that charism.

What is a charism?

A charism is a spiritual gift, granted directly by God to an individual for the benefit of the wider Church. Scripture often speaks of charisms (for example, see 1 Corinthians 12:4, 7), as does the Catechism of the Catholic Church (cf. CCC 798 – 801). Since Vatican II, the Church has also used the word “charism” to describe the foundational spirituality of a religious family—a terminology which expresses that idea that the inspiration which prompted the start of a religious family is a grace initially granted as a gift to the community’s founder, and then carried on as an inheritance by the community’s vowed members down through time.

A defining characteristic of a charism is that it is truly a supernatural gift. I.e., it is not something which can come about through human effort or achievement. It therefore results in something which is quite above our natural human capabilities. The call to be a bride of Christ certainly fits this description. Not all women have this calling, and the spiritual capacity to see Christ as one’s spouse is not something that a woman can attain simply by desiring it. Rather, it is something that comes directly from God.

Like all gifts, I think this bridal charism is something which needs to be definitely accepted by the women to whom it is granted. Naturally, I would think that an acceptance of this bridal charism would have to take the form of some sort of definite resolution to renounce earthly marriage. Of course, for some women, their acceptance of this the charism of takes the form receiving the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity. But since it would seem that God grants this charism to individual women in a wide variety of circumstances, it is reasonable to suppose that many women’s acceptance of this spousal charism may come through an exclusive commitment to Christ made by means of religious profession. Other women may accept this charism in a more hidden way through the making of a private vow.

I think we can consider the consecration of virgins to be an especially privileged way of accepting and living out the charism to be a bride of Christ, since it is through only the consecration of virgins that the Church confirms this specific charism explicitly. This is a notable difference from religious profession, in which the Church confirmations a call to live a more generally evangelical way of life in the context of a particular religious community. It is even more different from a private vow, which is simply a personal response to the Lord which doesn’t involve the Church’s formal confirmation in any official sense.

But while the Church tells us authoritatively through the consecration of virgins who is a bride of Christ, we should keep in mind that she does not thereby tell us definitely who is not one. We can say with certainty that consecrated virgins are indeed called to be brides of Christ. But on the other hand, even though a woman religious (or a woman with a private vow of virginity) may not have this same kind of direct confirmation of a bridal call, this does not mean that she has not been granted this charism in actual fact. We need to have a certain humility in remembering that God calls whomever He wills according to His good pleasure, and that from an outsider’s point of view we don’t always have the clearest insight into the graces God has wrought in a particular soul.

The upshot

So what are the practical consequences to all of this?

First of all, I think we as a Church should treasure the distinctive spousal vocation of the Order of Virgins, as it’s ultimately meant as a gift for the entire Church.

We should also respect the spirituality of women religious who understand their own vocation in bridal terms. Even if bridal spirituality isn’t absolutely essential to religious life, it can still be beautiful and very fitting in this context. Many religious communities do consider bridal imagery as part of their foundational spirituality, so we might think of bridal spirituality a sort of “charism within a charism” in these instances.

But on the other hand, we also shouldn’t negatively judge women religious who for whatever reason do not identify with bridal imagery. We should keep in mind that a woman can live out the essential elements of religious life—i.e., an evangelical life of prayer, service, community, and public witness—in a full and fervent way, even if she best relates to Christ in a way other than as His bride.

If a woman discerning a vocation to consecrated life feels most strongly drawn to a spousal relationship with Christ (rather than feeling primarily attracted to community life or the mission of a particular religious family) then it might be good for her at least to investigate consecrated virginity. But if a discerner realizes that Order of Virgins is not where she is called, she shouldn’t feel that she therefore cannot be a spouse of Christ in any sense.

Anniversary Reflection

“IHS” is a traditional symbol for the Holy Name of Jesus

January 3, 2014 is the fifth anniversary of my solemn consecration to a life of virginity. Even after five years it’s still hard for me to find the words to write a reflection on the day. So instead, I’ll just share one small memory:

I originally chose January 3 as my consecration day, because I knew I wanted to be consecrated during the Christmas season, and that year January 3 happened to be the eve of the Epiphany. And January 3 is also my onomastico—that is, the feast of my patroness St. Genevieve, who herself was a consecrated virgin.

What I was not totally aware of at the time was that January 3 is also the feast of the Holy Name of Jesus. But what might have been simply a liturgical happy accident instead led me, providentially, to see a new shade of meaning within my vocation.

The night before my consecration, a local Poor Clare monastery let me spend the night in their guestroom, so that I could spend that last night under the same roof as Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, so as to then be more recollected for my consecration day. In the morning, I joined the nuns in their chapel for their early prayers.

Since, as I then found out, the Holy Name of Jesus is an important feast for Franciscans, the nuns had a special commemoration of the day in their celebration of the Liturgy of the Hours. Their Franciscan Office books had all the beautiful proper prayers, readings, and antiphons which I didn’t have in my own “standard-issue” Roman breviary. So although I had not planned it this way, I found myself meditating specifically on the significance of the Most Holy Name in the final hours leading up to my consecration.

As I sat in the chapel, singing the Office along with the nuns, it came to my mind that if I were marrying a mortal spouse that day, I would be changing my last name to my new husband’s—and therefore “losing” my own name in a certain sense. It reminded me of how, when I was a very young, it used to strike me as a bit unfair that women generally took their husbands’ surnames, and were sometimes even addressed by their husbands’ name alone (as in: “Mrs. John Smith”).  To be very honest, when I was a little girl I used to marvel at how much you would have to love somebody to allow your own name to be basically taken over by his!

But that bright winter morning, I suddenly thought: how happy I would be if my name could be hidden under Jesus’ in the same way that a wife’s is hidden under her husband’s! In Jesus, I had truly found the one whom I loved enough so as to be willing to lose my own name.

Of course,  it should go without saying that God, who deliberately created us as unique individuals, doesn’t will that we should give up our own personalities when He calls us to consecrated life. And naturally it would sound a bit silly if I took to calling myself something like “Mrs. Jesus.” Still, at that moment, I couldn’t think of a greater joy or privilege than to be known simply as Jesus’ spouse.

Sacred Scripture and the Church’s teachings paint us a stunning picture of the power and majesty of the Holy Name of Jesus: 

“…God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:9-11)

But I am also grateful that every year this feast also gives me a chance to savor this mystery in a personal and more intimate way, as I remember my consecration day and how I felt that joyful longing to give myself over entirely to the one who bears the Most Holy Name.

Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran

St. John Lateran…pray for us?

Today, November 9, is the feast of the dedication of the basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome. According to the breviary, the Church building was originally established by the emperor Constantine (though naturally there have been many additions and changes to the original structure over the course of the ages), and the memorial of its dedication has been celebrated on this date since the twelfth century.

St. Peter’s is the only major basilica which is within the boundaries of the Vatican City State, and so is naturally the one most closely associated with the Holy Father in the popular Catholic imagination. However, it is the basilica of St. John Lateran which is actually home to the Pope’s cathedra, or seat of Office. Since St. John Lateran is home to the cathedra of the bishop of Rome, it is therefore the cathedral Church of the diocese of Rome, and thus the Pope’s true cathedral.

But as we all know, while the Pope is indeed the bishop of Rome, he is not merely the diocesan bishop of a local Church, but also the head of the Church throughout the whole world. Likewise, St. John Lateran is not simply an ordinary diocesan cathedral on the same level as, say, St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York—it is rather the “mother Church of Christendom.”

This is why the feast of the dedication of St. John Lateran is a feast for the Universal Church, and not just for one diocese (as would be the case for the anniversary of a normal diocesan cathedral’s dedication) or for one parish (as would be the case for an ordinary Church).

Back when I first became “liturgically aware” in a more serious adult way, I was often puzzled why the dedication of Churches would be commemorated with as much celebration as the feast days of saints. It seemed odd to me that an inanimate object like a building (let alone a chair, as in the Chair of Peter…) should have its own place on our calendar. How could mere bricks and mortar possibly compare with the glorious living witness of the saints and martyrs?

Yet as I got older I realized that in our sacramental, incarnational faith, a Church building isn’t just about the architecture. As is evident in the prayers we use to dedicate it, and in the liturgy and scripture we use to commemorate the anniversary of its dedication, a Church structure is meant to point beyond itself towards the greater mystery of the Church. A physical Church building is “a house of prayer for all peoples” (Isaiah 56:7) which foreshadows the holy city of the new and heavenly Jerusalem.

The feasts of the dedication of Churches also became especially meaningful to me once I began to approach my own consecration as a virgin.  I started to notice the ways in which the rite for the dedication of Churches shared striking liturgical and theological parallels with the Rite of Consecrationto a Life of Virginity.

In both these sacred rituals, the bishop as Christ’s representative sets apart and consecrates something (that is, either a building or a person) exclusively for God’s purposes. In being consecrated, both Churches and virgins become “sacred spaces,” and signs of God’s presence to the whole world.

Like Church buildings, we consecrated virgins are called to be houses of prayer, a praise of the Lord, places of sacrifice though out continual and total gift of self, a “home” for God’s people, and a dwelling place for Christ.

What’s more, in some places, even the actual words of the two rituals can be seen to mirror each other quite closely. For example, in the central consecratory prayer for Churches, the bishop prays:

The Church is fruitful,

made holy by the blood of Christ:

a bride made radiant with his glory,

a virgin splendid in the wholeness of her faith,

a mother blessed through the power of the Spirit.

After Mass in the basilica for today’s feast!

This strongly calls to mind the exhortation given to the candidates in the bishop’s suggested homily in the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity, wherein the virgins-to-be-consecrated are shown that they, like the Church herself, are called by Christ to be: 

“… a virgin, a bride, and a mother: a virgin, to keep the faith whole and entire; a bride, to be one with him forever; and a mother, to raise up the family of the Church.”

These prayers, which point to the mystery of the Church—first of all as the bride of Christ, as well as the holy city and the people of God—remind me of the way that we as consecrated virgins are also called to be incarnations this same mystery. 

Consecrated Virgins and Bitterness

...the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, [and] self-control.

(Galatians 5:22-23)

***

Recently, I read a comment online where one poster remarked that most of the consecrated virgins she had met in the context of her vocational discernment tended to come across as discouraging and bitter (to see the actual thread, go here.)*

As a consecrated virgin myself, I have to say that not only was I not offended in the least by this comment, but I also found the honesty of the observation to be refreshing. To be very frank, it was a little like the relief we all feel at the end of the story when the child finally points out that the emperor has no clothes! Although I’ve never seen this discussed publically anywhere before, based on my own personal experience and observations, to me it seems like bitterness is a one spiritual and human formation issue to which modern-day consecrated virgins might be particularly prone.

It should go without saying that, like all generalities, this statement of course does not apply to each and every consecrated virgin categorically. Yes, I have been blessed to encounter consecrated virgins whom I could only describe as serene and joyful. But at the same time, unfortunately I do also have to say that some of the most disturbingly bitter women I have ever met have been consecrated virgins as well. And I’m sure I would be justified in supposing that most of us consecrated virgins have had personal struggles with temptations to bitterness at least at one time or another.

The Church Fathers often wrote about pride as a special temptation for the consecrated virgins of their time, identifying it as the vice most crucial for them to avoid and overcome. For today’s consecrated virgins, I think bitterness might perhaps take this place.

While consecrated virgins around the world may have very different opinions about what it means to be a consecrated virgin on a concrete level (e.g.: should our consecrated witness be totally open or more discreet? should we strive to work for the Church full-time, or have a purely secular career? etc.), I think we can all agree that our Lord, this vocation, and the wider Church would not be well served by the bitterness of consecrated virgins.

In some significant ways, bitterness can undermine the very purpose of our vocation, since it’s hardly an attitude conducive to a free and joyful giving of ourselves to our divine Spouse. Bitterness is also a very effective counter-witness to the rest of the faithful. In this sense, I think we could even consider bitterness to be a “scandal” in the true sense of the word—i.e., that which could cause others to falter in their faith.

I know that bitterness among consecrated virgins isn’t the most comfortable topic of discussion, but I do think it would be good for it to be discussed. My thought it that, like any spiritual problem on either an individual or communal level, simply ignoring this one isn’t going to make it go away, and may even enable it to grow.

I am quite aware that, with all things considered, I myself may not be the best-qualified person to begin this discussion. So for everyone who feels drawn to write in the comment box about how I lack the life experience, insight, personal maturity, and holiness to talk about avoiding sins related to bitterness—you are absolutely correct! Therefore I respectfully ask for your prayers, and that you patiently put up with my efforts here, which are first and foremost an attempt to preach to myself.

What is bitterness?

Just to make myself clear on what I’m talking about, when I refer to “bitterness” here, I mean the striking and demonstrable lack of Christian joy and hope. That is, the sort of noticeable lack which would seem to reflect an inner pettiness, sense of resentment, or an unbecoming anger at one’s life circumstances.

Outward manifestations of bitterness can include things such as: excessive complaining, an inappropriately sarcastic sense of humor, a consistently negative attitude towards life in general, and an overall tone of harshness in one’s speech and mannerisms.

In our inner lives, symptoms that could indicate that we are becoming bitter may include: a tendency towards self-pity, taking a certain delight in recounting all the ways we have been treated unfairly in the past (whether to ourselves or in conversation with others), being jealous of those who seem to be better loved and appreciated than we are, and regularly feeling disappointed or annoyed with most of the people in our lives for not treating us with as much respect and deference as we feel we deserve.

The act of being a habitually bitter person, whether or not we consider it to be a sin in a formal sense, certainly sets the stage for all kinds of sinful behavior. I think that some of the more minor and venial but still fairly common sins that result from bitterness are things like: gossip and back-biting; making unreasonable, and therefore selfish, demands on those closest to us; and a lack of charity in our actions that could be colloquially described as “just plain being mean.” Bitterness also fosters an absence of gratitude for the good things that God has already us—and perhaps could also preclude the initial openness to receiving these blessings in the first place.

What I am NOT talking about when I speak of bitterness are normal human reactions to difficult things in our lives, such as sadness or grief over a real loss, feelings of honest frustration when dealing with a trying situation, or the simple experience of having hurt feelings.

I’m also not talking about other kinds of personal character weaknesses or “human formation issues,” like a tendency to lose one’s temper or to having an inappropriately heightened level of emotional sensitivity (the kind of sensitivity wherein one could be described as being “touchy”). Finally, when I speak of bitterness, I am most definitely not commenting on diagnosable mental health problems like clinical depression or personality disorders.

But now, with consecrated virgins specifically in mind, here are what I see as some likely possible causes for bitterness, along with my reflections (however inadequate they may be) on how perhaps to begin to overcome them:

1. A real lack of support

It’s almost a bit of a truism to point out that, because consecrated virginity is such a “new” form of consecrated life, it isn’t very well understood even by many within the Church. Because of this, consecrated virgins often lack the support given to Catholics in almost any other vocation.

For example, right now in many dioceses, formation programs for aspiring consecrated are either very limited or literally non-existent. Also, while consecrated virgins are canonically under the direct authority and supervision of their bishop, for a variety of reasons (including many very understandable reasons) it can happen that in some places a consecrated virgin will not have a workable system of communication with either the bishop or a direct representative of his. All this is on top of the fact that, due to geographical distance and perhaps also to other social and cultural factors, individual consecrated virgins can tend to be quite isolated from each other.

These things can all lead to some consecrated virgins having what I think we could call a well-founded sense of being unfairly left alone, or to their legitimately feeling as though they been expected to “fend for themself” spiritually.

Similarly, consecrated virgins may also frequently encounter a lot of painful misunderstandings from fellow devout Catholics. When we explain our vocations to others, it’s not uncommon to hear things like: “you’ll never be as good as a nun”; “the Church doesn’t need consecrated virgins”; “the REAL brides of Christ are Sisters in habits”; “you would have done more good for the Church if you had been married and raised a good Catholic family”; or even “you wasted your religious vocation!” And sometimes consecrated virgins find that, within their parish or diocese, their vocation is regarded more as a burden and a liability for the community rather than as an objectively good thing for the Church.

The sense of rejection that can result from feeling that one has tried to offer one’s whole life and entire self to God, but that this self-gift is not wanted by His Church, can be a shattering experience. Therefore, it shouldn’t be too hard to see how this kind of pain can unfortunately lead to a consecrated virgin becoming bitter.

So what can one do to avoid becoming bitter in these kinds of situations? First, I would say that the best ways is to keep the truth clear in your mind at all times. Even if your parish priest (or the Sisters from the local mother house, or your daily Mass-going family, or your Confirmation sponsor, or the the Vicar for Religious from your diocese, etc.) says something insensitive or acts discouragingly towards your vocation on a regular basis, this does NOT at all change the fact that Christ really and truly did call you to be His bride. It also doesn’t affect the good that you can do for the God’s people, your identity within the Church, or your reward in Heaven. It’s a lot easier to let even frequent negative remarks roll off your back if you know and have confidence that they are wrong.

And on a related note, for a number of reasons, not the least of which is avoiding bitterness, it’s also good for us to learn to look at our discouraging experiences in light of their actual context. For instance, if someone in your parish says something hurtful to you about your vocation, it’s almost certainly the case that he or she was speaking purely out of ignorance and not out of any real desire to offend you.

On a deeper level, I think it could be helpful to take unhelpful or objectively unfair circumstances as a call to grow in what I would call a disciplined spiritual maturity. Being often overlooked, unappreciated, or even outright criticized because of one’s vocation to consecrated virginity is a powerful opportunity for us to purify our motives—i.e., to grow strong in our desire to live our consecrated lives purely out of love for Christ and His Church, without regard for the esteem of others. It also gives us a chance to live the spirit of the beatitudes more deeply, by resolving to be unfailingly gracious in our thoughts, words, and deeds, no matter how we may be treated.

However, at the same time I think it’s also important that we be honest about our situations, both to ourselves as well as to the appropriate people in the appropriate contexts. In my opinion, pretending to ourselves that everything is alright when this is objectively not the case (such as, for a hypothetical example, telling ourselves that we had an excellent formation program—when in reality, “formation” consisted solely in something like being asked to read through the materials on USACV website and nothing else) is only setting the stage for greater bitterness at some later point, when we run out of the emotional energy needed to keep up this kind of false optimism.

Additionally, an attitude of respectful honesty and realism can help us to be better aware of our strengths and weaknesses—along with whatever exterior limitations may be placed on us—as we strive to grow in our consecrated lives. We need this kind of self-awareness in order to become well-balanced and non-bitter consecrated virgins.

Finally, a respectful honesty about the “unfair” aspects of our experience of following a vocation to consecrated virginity is absolutely necessary if we ever hope to improve things for the women who may be called to consecrated virginity in the future.

2. Unrealistic expectations

Another probable cause of bitterness among consecrated virgins might be unrealistic expectations. Because there is so little information available on the practicalities and lived experience of consecrated virginity, and because the actual women who live out this vocation are so few and far between, I think it’s not unreasonable to suppose that a number of aspiring consecrated virgins enter into this vocation with what could be called an overly romanticized conception of the realities of this life.

For example, I often hear of aspiring consecrated virgins who say that they feel attracted to this vocation because they see it as a way to “fit in,” to find a niche, and to feel appreciated within the Church. Besides being a less-than-optimal motive for seeking consecration in the first place, this expectation emphatically does not correspond to the actual experience of life as a consecrated virgin in most places today.

Likewise, my impression is that many candidates for consecrated virginity might tend to over-estimate the sensible consolations they will receive as a result of their consecration, not fully realizing that any prayer life, like any marriage, will go through dry and taxing times as well as rich and joyful ones. To me it also seems that some aspiring consecrated virgins imagine that they will receive abundant personal, direct support and encouragement from their bishop and other priests in their diocese or from a local network of fellow consecrated virgins, and are therefore are unpleasantly surprised and disappointed when they discover that they need to be much more emotionally self-sufficient then they had hoped or expected.

For those of us who are concerned about becoming bitter as a result of this kind of disappointment, the easy (but perhaps not always immediately helpful) answer is to keep our expectations realistic. If you are presently discerning a vocation to consecrated virginity, find ways to ask the honest, hard questions. Do whatever you can to be sure you have a decent grasp, not only of the theological nature of this vocation, but also of the experiences you are likely to have when living it out in your day-to-day life.

Yet as is obvious to anyone who has become personally acquainted with this particular difficulty, “keeping your expectations realistic” is not always as simple a solution as it sounds. That is, if you are dealing with crushed dreams in the present, it’s not really possible to go back in time or to adjust your expectations retroactively.

But, similar to what I’ve written above, consecrated virgins who are feeling disappointed can reflect upon the fact that they are actually not disappointed in the deeper theological sense—that is, they have still received what they had been promised when Christ first called them.

Even if you aren’t now regularly receiving awesome mystical graces, or if you don’t have the personal mentorship of your bishop, or you’re not experiencing an ultra-close sense of sisterhood among consecrated virgins, or the people in your parish only think you’re weird when you talk about being a bride of Christ…ultimately, all of these issues are more or less superfluous. At the end of the day, you still have your spousal relationship with Christ and your special personal identification with the Church, which are the truly important gifts one receives in this vocation.

It’s also good to remember that we can always start to develop a sense of realism now, which can help equip us to live out our consecrated lives in a happy, healthy, holy way in the future. By ceasing to build up and entertain unreasonable hopes, even at this “late hour,” we can open ourselves to receive with gratitude the gifts that God is giving us in actual reality.

I suppose that it could happen that a consecrated virgin becomes so disillusioned by the difference between her consecrated life as she first envisioned it and the concrete reality of her life as a consecrated virgin that she begins to doubt she even discerned her vocation properly in the first place.

While anyone in this situation should be talking to a good spiritual director instead of reading this blog, I do have one observation that might be pertinent. That is, perhaps a consecrated virgin suffering though such a situation might pray for the grace of a renewed sense of vocation…or even for an interior experience of being called, as if for the first time, to what consecrated virginity actually entails—i.e., a total, sacrificial gift of oneself to Christ, and in Him, to His Church.

3. A fundamental selfishness

Admittedly, this last heading sounds a lot harsher than I would like it to, but I really can’t think of any other words to describe the idea I’m trying to convey. Of course, I highly doubt that many consecrated virgins (if any at all) discerned their vocation with motives that were blatantly and manifestly selfish. And it also goes without saying that, given the realities of our fallen human nature, very few human beings ever do any good deed with an entirely disinterested heart.

But even taking these two points as a given, I think it’s good to reflect on how easy it could be for us as consecrated virgins to develop a spiritual worldview that turns out to be subtly—and I want to say even almost “innocently”—selfish on a very foundational level.

At this present time, to me at least it seems like most of the existing informational material on consecrated virginity tends to focus mostly on the individual virgin’s personal experience of receiving the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity. For example, much of the available vocational literature consists of personal reflections from consecrated virgins on the graces they received at their consecration, on the beauty of their consecration Mass, on the touching level of support they were given by their parish community, or on the joys of being a bride of Christ.

Naturally, all of this is good in and of itself. Consecration to a life of virginity is indeed a very precious and beautiful thing, and this vocation is truly great gift to the individual consecrated virgin.

But while a consideration of the personal benefits of consecrated virginity certainly isn’t wrong or theologically problematic, I do think we could say that, when taken only by itself, it is a somewhat unbalanced understanding of this vocation. That is, an exclusive or near-exclusive focus on the elements of consecrated virginity which are of primary befit to the individual (i.e., what a woman “gets out of” this vocation) undermines the pride of place that should be given to the more central aspect of this vocation—namely, the call to sacrificial self-giving for the honor of God and the good of His Church.

While this might seem like only a slight matter of emphasis, it really is significant. A candidate for consecrated virginity who looks forwards to a lovely consecration Mass and to the graces of that day—or a consecrated virgin of many years who enjoys meditating on her identity as the beloved bride of Christ—is obviously not selfish in the sense of maliciously seeking her own best interest at the expense of others. But at the same time, it’s important that we realize that if these things are the sum total, or even just the principal theme, of a consecrated virgin’s or candidate’s interior life, then her spiritual focus actually is primarily on herself and her own consolations.

This kind of subtle selfishness is, of course, not nearly as morally problematic as the more egregious varieties of selfishness which manifest themselves in the grave matter of mortal sin. In most contexts we really can’t compare the selfishness behind patently corrupt acts (like adultery or defrauding the poor of their life savings) with the much more “benign” kind of selfishness involved in things like an over-emphasis on experiencing spiritual
consolations for the sake of our own pleasure.

Yet in many ways, this more minor and understandable type of selfishness is actually more of a danger for consecrated virgins, since we are much more likely to give into temptations to selfishness on this level. And while our particular species of selfishness might never metastasize beyond the category of minor venial sin, we should remember that any and all selfishness keeps us from being as close to Christ as we could be. To borrow an illustration from St. John of the Cross, it ultimately doesn’t matter whether a bird is tied down by a heavy rope or by a fine thread—both of these ties can be equally effective in keeping it from flying upwards towards the heavens.

The reason why these observations on selfishness are pertinent to this post is that selfishness, no matter how subtle or unwitting, is by its nature connected to bitterness.

As human beings, we can only reach our fullness of life and happiness when we are striving to give of ourselves in love. The Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes acknowledges this reality when it states that man “cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself.” (GS 24) Because we are made in the image and likeness of God, we can never fully flourish unless we, in some way, come to reflect the total self-giving of the inner life of the Trinity in our own lives.

Our call to reflect the inner life and love of the Trinity, first in our vocation as baptized Christians and then in our lives as consecrated virgins, involves our learning to love, eventually, without concern for our own consolation. While of course we all have human needs that are right and proper for us to take into account (and while God also does want us to seek Him as our true good for our own benefit), at the same time we need to remember that real self-giving love doesn’t ask “what’s in it for me?”

If our main intentions in following our vocation are ultimately rooted in selfishness, even if it’s a “pious” selfishness like desiring beautiful experiences in prayer for the sake of our own enjoyment, we will never grow to our full stature as daughters of God and brides of Christ. Consequently, we will not progress as the rate we should—presuming that we manage to progress at all, or that we don’t in effect move backwards—in our growth in the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love. And a deficiency in any of these virtues will more than probably manifest itself on the level of our human personality in the form of bitterness.

Avoiding this kind of bitterness will never be exactly easy, because overcoming all forms selfishness is one of the central struggles of the Christian life. And in the consecrated life, this struggle is magnified—although I think we can say that it is only magnified so that the victory we win with the help of God’s grace can be even more complete and perfect. So while the journey here (which I think all of us consecrated virgins, not just those of us presently struggling with obvious bitterness, have to take) is difficult, it is also very beautiful.

As consecrated virgins, our growth towards the disinterested, self-sacrificial love to which we are called will give us a greater affinity with our sisters, the early virgin-martyr saints who were so important to the flourishing of the Church in her first centuries. And even more importantly, it will bring us towards a closer likeness with our crucified Spouse, who came not to be served, “but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:28)

notes:

* Just as a side note to anyone who actually goes and reads this thread, for a lot of reasons, I do NOT think that it's appropriate to call consecrated virginity "the single life," "consecrated single life," "lay consecration," or anything similar. But that's a topic for another post!