The Spiritual Elders Among Us

There’s a tradition in Christianity, especially within Roman Catholic and Orthodox Churches, of spiritual fathers and mothers or elders who offer guidance to others. Normally they are monastics, sometimes they are priests, and rarely they are part of the laity. This select group of people are attributed to being so holy and strong in their connection to God that they already know one’s troubles; they know what is heavily weighing on one’s heart.  I was once told by a Metropolitan discussing the tradition of spiritual fathers/elders on Mt. Athos that being in the presence of one of these holy people is a phenomenally intense experience. According to him they just see right through you and immediately know what you are going through, and yet they humbly offer their attention and love in helping you walk through life. 

Here at the GTU, there is a Jesuit priest who, I believe, embodies this type of spiritual fatherhood—though he would intensely disagree with me on the belief.

I’ve recently been going through a lot of discernment and development regarding my walk and relationship to ordination, Christianity, and myself (who am I?). I’ve come to open a door in the Inner Castle that contains past traumas, negative experiences, and negative behaviors which I’ve been pushing aside for quite some time. It’s definitely a dark room and quite large for only being 27 years old. I’ve stepped into this room with only a candle to illuminate the objects, ghosts, and traps that lie within. This candle is God’s light in the darkness, burning at both ends without decreasing in size. 

I’ve recently been feeling myself slip into sadness, feelings of lethargy and slothfulness, and finding false consolation in junk food. I haven’t been sleeping well either which is unusual because I have the God given gift of being able to sleep anywhere at anytime; like an old man being able to drift off at a sporting event. Anyway, I’ve been dealing with some internal stuff that has kept my mind, heart, and soul uneasy. So uneasy, in fact, that I haven’t been able to pray. A form of nihilism creeps into my soul as I ask “why does this even matter” “isn’t religion just made up”. Prayer, at least in the way that I understand it, hasn’t been helping. 

So, I’m sitting at the front desk in the library where I work and in walks in the Jesuit priest. For some reason he always addresses me as “Caballero.” I have no idea as to why he does, but he started calling me that once and just hasn’t stopped. 

He walks in, returns some books, comes over to me and says, “Caballero, did you sleep last night?”

“Actually, no I didn’t.” I laughed.

He continued, “Why not?” 

I didn’t know how much to divulge; he seemed as if he was in a hurry and I didn’t want to burden him. So I awkwardly said, “uhhh…you know, just going through some stuff.”

He kindly nodded and said, “Pray.” 

“I’m trying.” I responded.

And he walked out. 

We had this brief interaction with huge smiles on our face. He wasn’t the archetypical Catholic priest performing an inquisition on my soul and telling me to pray. Rather he exuded Love. He somehow knew—whether it is because of the dark circles around my eyes or my abnormally low energetic greeting—that I was going through some stuff. He simply knew and took time to acknowledge that I’m not alone, that God is with me and that prayer will help. 

I’m not writing a hagiography of this person, nor am I converting to Catholicism because of this man. But I am acknowledging that there are people in this world that know when trouble lies within one’s heart, regardless of one’s relationship to him/her.