of confusion. You may be tempted to return to the certainties of spiritual childhood, but they may have to be left behind if we are to be of use to others. God calls us on a vocational pilgrimage where we must leave the known for the unknown if we are to grow into Christ. What matters is what God is doing in the heart, something the psalms, especially 139, so often express.
Of course, the ‘core-self’, the heart of who we are, is where the image of God is to be discovered (Gen. 2.7; 2 Cor. 3.3). From that place all true spirituality emerges as water gushes up from the depths of a well (John 4.7–15). Ignatius Loyola, in his Spiritual Exercises, recalls the foundational importance of this place where the love of God is to be known, saying that ‘God created human beings to praise, reverence, and serve God and be happy with him forever.’ Behind all he wrote and lived was the desire that life should be lived ‘to the greater glory of God’ – Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam (AMDG) – which he took as his motto. This is what you and I were created for, and it is when we are living out of that expression of praise that we’re most fully human.
I love you, Lord, my strength,
my rock, my fortress, my saviour.
My God is the rock where I take refuge;
my shield, my mighty help, my stronghold.
(Psalm 18.1f.)
Ignatius also observes that that foundation needs to be firm if it is to support our journey with God into the fullness of our being, something that must be particularly true for those in ministry. We need to accept that, sinners though we are, we’re loved by the God who made us in his image and likeness. Sadly, what happened during their formative years means that some people are not sure, deep within, that they are loved. And if you had to ‘earn’ the love of another, no wonder there will be some, charged with telling the story of God’s unconditional love, who will not have the certainty of that and who will preach that it’s conditional. It isn’t of course. It’s unconditional; it’s all grace.
The wounded healer
Because of the abuse they suffered when they were young, some people find this godly, unconditional love hard to accept. Indeed, their notion of love itself might have been profoundly marred. Others may have been scarred by constantly failing to live up to the expectations of parents or might have experienced rejection by peers. We all know that abuse comes in many forms – physical, emotional, sexual or spiritual – but all involve misuses of power and many have to live with deep, and sometimes hidden, wounds, wounds for which it might be difficult to find complete healing. But, apart from our need to address any such forms of abuse through the appropriate channels, it can also become a source of healing for others. Much of our life in Christ involves the acceptance of our woundedness, seeking appropriate means of healing and then allowing that place of woundedness to be the place where compassion grows. The wounded priest can be a real witness to Christ, the wounded healer, if we can allow the pain we carry to be transformed into compassion for others and begin to trust them as we trust God. This can be a long and difficult process, but therapeutic ministries, including spiritual ones, can provide great help. We’ll look at some of those in Chapter 8.
Unfortunately, there are those who, for whatever reason, hide their wounds. Clergy, in particular, may be tempted to put on an act or wear a mask to show the world a ‘happy face’. But it can be a face concealing insecurity, depression, emptiness in the heart, etc. Although we’re called to live ‘to the greater glory of God’, some of us act out a life that drives us harshly to the point where our humanity becomes obscured. If a priest recognizes this is happening to them and they’re beginning to develop a hardened approach to life, they can explore this with a spiritual director, for such a face often hides deep pain.
In a similar way, there are pastors who are quite hard on others, always believing they are right and keen to impose their will: such people are difficult taskmasters, both to others and themselves. I hope they’re able, like all of us, to feel that compassionate gaze of God and to learn humility, something we’ll be exploring. Sadly, there are curates or parishioners who are bullied by their vicar, who believes he or she has a hotline to God. In cases like this, they might be encouraged to turn to the appropriate channels to address this form of abuse. We all need to remember that at the end of our days we shall not be judged by our success or how many souls we’ve saved, by our popularity, erudition, intelligence or whatever but, as St John of the Cross is reputed to have said, ‘by our loving’.
***
The compassionate Heart of Jesus
One of the greatest images that reminds us of this truth, that speaks to everyone of love, is the image of the heart, and the Church is fortunate in having a particular image of the heart that speaks of God’s everlasting, compassionate love: the Sacred Heart. It may be unfamiliar to some non-Catholics, a bit too ‘Roman’ perhaps, but did you know that the Sacred Heart inspired John Wesley, whose conversion experience began when his own heart was ‘deeply warmed’? Or that the founders of the first Franciscan community for men in the Church of England dedicated their community to the Divine Compassion – another way of speaking of the Sacred Heart? One of its founding members, Fr Andrew SDC (1869–1946), wrote this gentle meditation:
To rest a tired head upon Thy Heart,
And to be still –
To come to Thee from the whole world apart
And learn Thy Will –
And in that will, because it is Thy will, to live and die,
Knowing Thy love and will are one eternally.
That be my way of prayer –
that brings me where Thou art –
Heaven is there.4
It’s of primary importance that we seek to be aware of, and in touch with, the heart of who we are, for the inner life of the priest will determine everything. The Oracle at Delphi is reputed to have said that the greatest wisdom is to ‘know thyself’, but that can be quite challenging. I recall becoming very angry when I first began to reflect on those words because they suggested I needed to face up to aspects of myself I’d been avoiding and was now trying to get rid of. This self-awareness can awaken at any time so, to make sure that any distraction we might experience isn’t too overwhelming, we always need to consider the inclination of our heart. Is it directed towards the Heart of the One who desires us and who will always love us? Or something else? As a Benedictine monk once said to someone exploring their vocation: ‘Brother, you must make your stability in the Heart of Jesus.’5 That’s worth chewing on: Christ must be the heart of the priest’s heart whether that priest be celibate, single or partnered. If he isn’t, other loves can easily move in to occupy the void.
There’s a story told of a priest in Africa who was translating St John’s Gospel into the local dialect. There were many problems in finding the right way to translate some of the English words, one such being to ‘believe’. There was no exact word in the dialect. So he asked one of the locals for help and, after hearing the priest explain what the word meant, the man said ‘To believe means to listen with the heart.’ That’s what the priest is called to do. ‘What is God doing with your heart?’ is the question that sometimes gets asked in spiritual direction for, as the potter shapes the clay into its desired shape and form, can there be any greater desire for the priest than that their heart might be re-formed into the Heart of Jesus? In a sermon to priests in 2016, Pope Francis said:
The Heart of the Good Shepherd is not only the Heart that shows us mercy, but is itself mercy. There the Father’s love shines forth; there I know I am welcomed and understood as I am; there, with all my sins and limitations, I know the certainty that I am chosen