2 years after leaving religious life: Reflections on grace, marriage and clericalism | National Catholic Reporter https://share.google/pWcA3HZ7O1vENpeAF
It has been nearly two years since I shared publicly in NCR that I had decided to
leave religious life after a lengthy period of prayer, reflection and dialogue. I had
been a member of the Franciscan order for 20 years and an ordained priest for more
than a dozen years, and as an academic and public figure beyond pastoral ministry, I
was used to sharing my thoughts and ideas with the broader world.
However, as a private person by disposition, I rarely talked about my personal life in
columns or other public settings, choosing instead to focus on matters of theology,
culture, church and politics. So, relaying this deeply personal news in such a public
context was a new experience for me and one that brought many unexpected
graces.
As I shared in my 2024 column announcing my discernment and transition (or
transitus in Latin, as I explained then) from religious life to lay life, I felt deeply
supported by my Franciscan community in general and those in leadership in
particular. This was further evidenced by the overwhelming number of texts, phone
calls, emails and letters of support I received from fellow Franciscans, as well as
clergy, laity and even a number of bishops in the United States and around the
world. I was humbled and remain grateful for this show of care and support.
Just a few months after I made the news public, the process that I had already begun
at the time to request formal dispensation from my religious vows and what canon
law calls "the obligations of Holy Orders," concluded with the support of the newly
elected bishop of Rome. Pope Leo XIV granted my prayerful request, opening up the
pathway for a new chapter in my spiritual journey as a Franciscan in mind and heart
if no longer a friar by profession.
Being released from your religious vows is rather straightforward. However, the
matter of Holy Orders is a bit more complicated. The church's sacramental theology
is very clear: You cannot undo a valid sacrament. Therefore, not even the pope can
"unordain" a validly ordained priest. Instead, I was granted dispensation from the
"obligations" of Holy Orders (mandatory celebration of the Liturgy of the Hours,
While it is right to say that I have formally left religious life, it is perhaps best to
think, as I sometimes do, about retiring from priestly ministry. I have no regrets
about my decades of public ministry, but those days and the public celebration of
the sacraments are behind me like a physician who retires from practicing medicine
or a military officer returning to civilian life.
Speaking of new chapters, one of the updates I have to share is my celebration of
another sacrament, this time of marriage! Among the many graces I have
experienced over the last two years has been the blessing and opportunity to
explore my relationship with a dear friend whom I have known for almost 15 years.
While not the reason for my vocational discernment and ultimate departure from
religious life, once that decision was formalized, the Holy Spirit opened up this other
possibility.
I know it's a cliché to talk about "marrying your best friend," but in my case, there is
no better way to describe the experience of this other transition, from close friends
and colleagues to partners in marriage. My now-wife is also a Catholic theologian
and professor, someone who is committed to her faith as well as to social justice and
advocating for those at the margins of society and the church.
We have worked together over the years and known each other as friends, so it felt
less like we were starting something new and more like deepening a love, clerical celibacy, etc.).
connection and spirit of mutual respect that already had a firm foundation. Neither
of us would have expected our lives to turn out as they did, but we are so happy and
grateful that they have. And that was confirmed when earlier this year we were
married in the church in a liturgy celebrated by a Jesuit priest who is a friend and
colleague along with our immediate family members.
While it may seem to some that it would be strange to go from a profound sense of
God's calling to one state in life as a religious and a ministerial priest to an equally
profound sense of God's calling to married life, all I can say is that it has felt
grace-filled and genuinely inspired by the Holy Spirit. God is indeed good, but God is also mysterious and full of surprises.
In addition to these updates, there is at least one observation that I want to share
about my experience over these last two years. In a way I did not anticipate, dozens
of men and women have reached out to me, written to me, and approached me at
public events to share their own experiences and stories of leaving religious life or
diocesan priesthood. I have had many conversations over coffee or meals with
people who shared with me that they had never seen someone be so transparent or
share publicly their experience of discernment and departure from religious or
ordained life.
While some of these folks had positive experiences similar to mine, where their
religious congregation or diocesan bishop were supportive and accompanied them
pastorally, the majority of the stories were heartbreaking. In such cases, religious
superiors and bishops made their lives difficult, immediately cut off financial and
spiritual support, and in some instances refused to support their petitions to the
Vatican to be formally dispensed from their vows or the obligations of Holy Orders.
For a number of decades, particularly during the long pontificate of John Paul II, it
was the Vatican that refused to acknowledge these cases and withheld dispensation,
which meant that many of these men and women would not be allowed to be
married in the church. They were in ecclesiastical limbo, trapped between the public
ministry they were no longer permitted to exercise and the ordinary lay life they felt
called now to live.
Hearing these stories has been saddening, not the least because nearly every one of
these former religious or diocesan priests continued to be people who practiced their
faith, attended Mass regularly, and were engaged in their parish communities.
Despite the disrespect and cruelty they experienced, these men and women forged
their own way forward, and some eventually found resolution to the unjust canonical
circumstances they had suffered for decades.
Although everybody's story is distinctive, there was one theme that continually
surfaced in these conversations: shame.
While each person I spoke with felt they were following God's will with integrity,
nearly all of them spoke about how they were often made to feel ashamed. To be
clear, it was not that the individuals leaving were ashamed of their discernment or
decision, it was how they were made to feel as a result of religious superiors or
bishops or other members of their community who communicated in overt and tacit
ways that they should feel badly about the path their spiritual journey and life had
taken. As a result, the message they received was loud and clear: Do not talk about
this, do not acknowledge this, just move forward quietly.
But, as I shared with each of them when talking about my own experience, I did not
feel that way, nor was I made to feel ashamed or pressured to regret my decades of
religious life and ministry. This is why I had no reservations about sharing my story
publicly, giving witness to how — through lots of prayer, spiritual direction,
counseling and dialogue — I came to a place where I could see this transition not as
a reversal or repudiation, but as a new chapter of life and faith led by the Spirit. And
I grew in my gratitude for the fraternal and spiritual support shown to me by my own
religious order.
Yet I'm left thinking about what we, the church, owe to those who voluntarily and
faithfully left ordained ministry and religious life but were met with a very different
reception than I was. Their stories bear witness to yet another example of the
church's dangerous culture of shame and silencing; to a sinful legacy of disrespect,
cruelty and abandonment; and to the deep-seated clericalism that motivates these
sorts of tragic behaviors. We need to do better in loving and caring for the
thousands of women and men around the world who, despite such pressures,
continue to keep the faith and live their lives with integrity and love.