Spiritual quest leads away from priesthood

National Catholic Reporter, Oct 20, 1995 by Terence Grant

When I was ordained I intended to remain a priest for the rest of my life. I never imagined I would have to leave the priesthood because of conscience. But it has come to that. A deep spiritual process has led me to see I have no other choice.

In 1986 I took part in a retreat given by Jesuit Fr. Anthony de Mello, now deceased. It changed my life. De Mello lived a practical mysticism that had tremendous appeal to me. He spoke a language of liberation, of freedom from all fear. He pointed to an indescribable union with the divine that flowed out in love. I knew that this was what I wanted for my own life.

I had been practicing centering prayer for a number of years before that retreat. I also had been studying the Christian mystics. The mystics captivated me. They pointed to a truth that was beyond words, a truth that could transform one's life. De Mello helped me see that this truth was accessible to anyone who wanted it.

So in 1986 I made a commitment to the work of spiritual transformation: first, my own transformation, in whatever way and at whatever pace the divine would allow it to happen; and second, the transformation of the people to whom I ministered.

To put it mildly, there was much to transform in my own life. The biggest item was fear: a perfectionist's fear of making mistakes; fear that the worst imaginable thing might happen to me; fear of looking foolish or stupid in the eyes of others. The fear manifested in a severe obsessive-compulsive disorder that paralyzed me. Every night before I could go to sleep I had to check and recheck and check again all the doors and windows of the house to ensure that they were locked and all the lights and electrical appliances to make certain they were turned off. Frequently, it took me two hours to do this incessant routine before I could collapse into bed. A couple of psychiatrists told me I would have to take drugs, perhaps for the rest of my life, to control this fear.

I refused to take the mind-numbing drugs. Somehow I was convinced I could find liberation through this spiritual path. It was a long and, at times, difficult road.

I experimented with yoga. I dove deeply into Zen. I searched for, and found, some wonderful spiritual teachers, Christian and non-Christian. My diocese granted me a one-year sabbatical. It was a precious gift that allowed me the freedom to pursue his path full time. Twice I went on retreat with Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh at Plum Village in France. I spent months meditating as much as four hours a day - this helped to gradually unload a lot of debris from my unconscious. I discovered some very gifted spiritual therapists who specialized in transformation work. They helped me experience healing changes that years of meditation might not have brought about

Through this process, my life was indeed transformed. I had a number of profound enlightenment experiences that I once thought were reserved for a few privileged saints (what a mistaken belief.). Instead of dwelling on the past or worrying about the future, I became more centered in the present; Divine bliss became a frequent, even an everyday, experience in my life.

Perhaps most remarkably I was freed from fear. I discovered that the roots of my obsessive fear were mainly spiritual - a deep-seated sense of separation from the divine. I'm convinced that this kind of transformation is available to others who want it.

This is just a brief account of a long journey that is far from finished. I still have much ego to abandon in my life. Yet I've found a path, an unconditional love within, that offers the transformation I've yearned for.

Throughout this process, I tried to share my new insights with the people in my parish. I gave workshops and retreats about the mystical path and its possibilities for healing and growth. I even wrote a book. Many of the people were receptive.

There was a problem, however. Spiritual transformation takes place through the direct experience. It is a deepening encounter of the heart. God is to be directly encountered in the spiritual heart, not the mind. "What is hidden from the learned and the clever is revealed to the merest children," Jesus said. This is an experience beyond knowing, as many Christian mystics have said.

I discovered that this truth is extremely difficult to proclaim in an institutional church that places so much emphasis on things of the mind: beliefs, pronouncements, authority. I found that the message quickly gets lost or distorted in this mind-centered atmosphere. I remember many, many times while I was preparing a homily or a parish talk when I had to stop and ask, "What I want to say is certainly the truth as I see it, but will church authority or even some of the people in the pews allow me to say it?"

The crux of the problem was that as an ordained priest I was an official representative of the institution. I was a spokesman for the whole structure of teachings and pronouncements. Try as I might to deny the role, I was still a voice for the system that places the highest priority on things of the mind and that has a fearful and controlling attitude toward immediate experience. Mystics have always been troubling for church authority. They are beyond fear and guilt and therefore can't be manipulated or controlled.