On Vocation (or, You Are The Chosen One)

They stand at the crossroads, and one hates all the roads and the other likes all the roads. The result is—well, some things are not hard to calculate. They stand at the crossroads.

- Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton

When our little micro-Toner emerges from the long and restless slumber of the womb, he will find both a cosmos and a chaos awaiting him. As a middle-class(ish) 21st-century American, he'll be free to do damn near anything in the world. He could be a teacher, a doctor, a soldier, a priest—he could dive for pearls in the South Sea or ride with the tribesmen of Mongolia, live on the streets or join strange cults, create more efficient explosives or more insightful literary genres—even move to the suburbs and have a nice clean wife and lawn. Many things will weigh his choices, from physical health and economic circumstance to the grace of God and the depredations of the Tempter, to say nothing of whatever success or failure Ellie and I have in raising him to be more or less psychologically sound; but ultimately he'll find himself at crossroads after crossroads, and he will choose one road or another. (The paradox of freedom being, of course, that even the refusal to choose is actually a choice.) If, God forbid, he should come to disbelieve in free will, he'll find himself standing in front of the closet for a long, long time each morning before genetic programming relieves him of deciding what shirt he should wear today.

No, he'll make some choice about what to do with his life. It may disappoint or traumatize his parents, or possibly make us radiant with joy; but in the end, it'll be his choice, and his alone. My job as his father will be shaping his mind and preparing his soul as best I can to make a wise and virtuous choice. And the thing I'm most concerned about imparting to him from the outset is that there's never going to be only one Right choice.

Let me qualify that: in deciding between whether to perform or not perform a wicked act, obviously there's only one right choice. Should I or shouldn't I steal this candy bar? I should not. But the point is, supposing that I have the twenty-five dollars I need to buy a candy bar (I'm adjusting for inflation here): shall I buy a Snickers or a Milky Way? Perhaps a Twix? What about a Payday? And supposing I have the hundred and fifty million dollars to afford a college education: shall I major in English or Math or Political Science or what? Supposing I want to move to a new city? There are several of them in the United States alone. It's easy to be paralyzed by the multiplicity of options—but it can be just as easy to be paralyzed by a single one, if you're terrified of missing what you think is the one and only path.

I don't want the kid standing at the doors of a seminary (or wherever), wracked with the certainty that this alone is the path that God has set forth for his life. I don't think God does that. I'm pretty sure God throws open the gates of the world and tells us to go nuts. If the kid truly wants to go to seminary, great! Fine! I've got six Toner nephews, the family line will continue. But no one should enter the seminary with the feeling that it's not what he wants, "but it's what God wants." My spiritual director Fr. LaValley (who I'm convinced will be St. LaValley before the coroner even gets the tag on his toe) once told me that there's always a few seminarians who feel that way, and that he always discourages them as strongly as he can from becoming priests. A true vocation should fill a man with joy and certitude and a sense of completion. Not just for the priesthood, mind you, but for every vocation. As scared as I was when I saw Ellie walking down the aisle toward me, I also knew I was finally coming home.

Whatever this kid decides to do, it'll be something that no one else can do. Just as Ellie and I have been chosen to bring a soul into the world that no other two people in all of time and space, in all of Eternity, could bring forth. He probably won't cure cancer or start a colony on Mars, although—you know—who knows? But he'll reflect the Power and the Glory in a way that absolutely no one else has ever done or ever will, and that will be his destiny. For that purpose he was chosen, and for that purpose he will soon be born. I'm excited to see what it will be.