My mother recently told me of a family friend who had confided to her the expectation that I would probably leave the Jesuits once I finished my schooling -- that I was only doing it for the free graduate degree in philosophy. We both laughed, though not from the decidedly absurd notion of a person attempting to successfully live poverty, chastity, and obedience as simply a trade-off for tuition money. We laughed because this friend must not know me that well -- I’ve never had a reputation for being an especially motivated student, particularly when it comes to theoretical subjects. Yet here I am, spending three years in the Bellarmine House of Studies at St. Louis University -- one of the Society’s three U.S. programs for scholastics to learn some philosophy and theology.

How does someone with an admitted aversion to Academia end up with the Jesuits? The short answer is that God has a sense of humor. Maybe you’ve learned this yourself -- it seems that most men considering religious vocations usually do. Yet I’ve also discovered that God is immensely generous in calling all kinds of people to serve His world, and it is this kindness that I appreciate during my current assignment to full-time studies.

I am very aware that my present placement would be impossible for me were it not for insights received through prayer and examples provided by the other men in my community. Together, we support each other through both joys and struggles. I learned this lesson early in the novitiate, during the widely varying experiences of our first year. The group of us progressed through the different experiments in settings all across the continent: working with inmates and refugees, making a month-long retreat, learning a foreign culture, assisting dying hospital patients, studying Jesuit history. With the range of assignments, each man invariably encountered areas of both strength and weakness. Just as I needed to draw inspiration from others when I balked at caring for cancer patients, my brothers were able to lean on me during their moments of confusion or discomfort in Mexico.

A similar dynamic exists at Bellarmine. There are certainly times that I can feel frustrated, such as when a professor complains that my paper on Aquinas contains a sentence structure that is too difficult to understand, or when theology research leads me to borrow an obscure two-volume work from the library that has never been checked out since its 1968 publication. But after time with God or my community I am able to regain perspective and not take such troubles too seriously. After all, St. Thomas was no great wordsmith himself, and it turns out that the religious practices of Northern Rhodesia’s Ila-speaking peoples are actually sort of interesting (though both volumes were perhaps not necessary).

While in some instances I must labor a bit to find meaning in my studies, there are other moments in which everything comes together beautifully. When an earnest class discussion connects the academic material to real life experiences or when a philosopher I am reading articulates my beliefs on a subject better than I could ever manage, I cannot help but feel grateful. Even stronger motivation comes when I can sense the great needs that exist in our imperfect world. It is a privilege to accompany undergraduates to demonstrations at the School of the Americas and the March for Life or to tutor economically disadvantaged students at the nearby Jesuit middle school, because these encounters allow me to place my concerns about exams and grades in their proper context, aware that my studies will enable me to more fully address issues of injustice and hardship in the future. These grace-filled moments, fleeting though they might be, provide me with great energy and inspiration, which I can then share with others in my community who might not appreciate the experiences in the same way.

The Lord calls to the Society men who have clear affinities and abilities for learning philosophy and theology, and this is evidence of God’s goodness. But the Lord also calls men whose deepest passions lie outside the classroom, and His willingness to patiently help them persevere in their studies is for me equally compelling testimony for the beauty and generosity of God.

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