Do I have the real Jesuit DNA?
Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) is a molecule that encodes the genetic instructions used in the development and functioning of all known living organisms
For myself, I wonder if I really ever had what Kaiser calls the Jesuit DNA. After all, I left the Jesuits so, factually, there wasn’t the match I’d hoped for, genetic or otherwise. And I don’t hope to retrace my steps and discover a different outcome.
I was not brought up in a very Catholic environment. I was baptized, and went through the normal religious milestones, at least as long as my grandmother, Edna Carroll, was alive. But the rebellious tradition of Irish anti-clericalism was alive and kicking on that side of the family. The only time my mother invited a priest into our house was to attend to Edna’s deathbed. My father’s family are entirely New England freethinkers, perhaps a reaction to their Puritan roots. So from two sets of chromosomes, the only overlap was Republicanism.
When I decided to be a priest, the only option was the Jesuits. I didn’t want to be a parish priest. What little experience I had of parish life I didn’t like. My mother was the real estate agent who found the property in our small Connecticut town for St. Catherine’s, and she declined a commission, but that was the extent of our contribution to catholic life. My parents reluctantly sent me to Fairfield Prep as a sophomore because they didn’t want to send me to a boarding school, but they did want me to go to a good college. I had John L’Heureux, who opened up a whole world of poetry and theater for me, and JJ McLaughlin, who was as arrogant then as he was on PBS. But these men, and others I read about, or would meet later, inspired me.
When I entered Shadowbrook on August 15th, 1966, a lot of the structure of Jesuit formation that most of the companions experienced had already been dismantled. So maybe the Jesuit DNA, as in a set of instructions to the soul, had been wiped clean. We no longer spoke Latin, the Juniorate was empty, Weston became a dorm for philosophy at BC. I lived in a small community on Brighton Avenue, then Somerville and went to Harvard. I worked as a community organizer in East Boston during the summer. I only wore a habit at protest rallies against the Vietnam War. I had no regency. Woodstock moved to the Upper Westside, though it had really been closed.
As I think about “Jesuit DNA,” one thing is clear: 40 + years ago, the Jesuits had the brightest men and encouraged a kind of free thinking and critical analysis that distinguished them from regular priests, as well as most other religious. (I sure as hell wasn’t going to spend my life in choir stall like Merton though there was something about him that was really appealing, maybe it was just his writing.) And I know that I feel a real sympathy, sympatico, for Pope Francis, and I hope that he succeeds in some measure of reform. He does not have to approve gay marriage or ordain women, or make laypeople cardinals, to get my approval. He already has it. Just washing the feet of young people, including girls and Muslims, struggling to get right with life, that’s enough.
For myself, I wonder if I really ever had what Kaiser calls the Jesuit DNA. After all, I left the Jesuits so, factually, there wasn’t the match I’d hoped for, genetic or otherwise. And I don’t hope to retrace my steps and discover a different outcome.
I was not brought up in a very Catholic environment. I was baptized, and went through the normal religious milestones, at least as long as my grandmother, Edna Carroll, was alive. But the rebellious tradition of Irish anti-clericalism was alive and kicking on that side of the family. The only time my mother invited a priest into our house was to attend to Edna’s deathbed. My father’s family are entirely New England freethinkers, perhaps a reaction to their Puritan roots. So from two sets of chromosomes, the only overlap was Republicanism.
When I decided to be a priest, the only option was the Jesuits. I didn’t want to be a parish priest. What little experience I had of parish life I didn’t like. My mother was the real estate agent who found the property in our small Connecticut town for St. Catherine’s, and she declined a commission, but that was the extent of our contribution to catholic life. My parents reluctantly sent me to Fairfield Prep as a sophomore because they didn’t want to send me to a boarding school, but they did want me to go to a good college. I had John L’Heureux, who opened up a whole world of poetry and theater for me, and JJ McLaughlin, who was as arrogant then as he was on PBS. But these men, and others I read about, or would meet later, inspired me.
When I entered Shadowbrook on August 15th, 1966, a lot of the structure of Jesuit formation that most of the companions experienced had already been dismantled. So maybe the Jesuit DNA, as in a set of instructions to the soul, had been wiped clean. We no longer spoke Latin, the Juniorate was empty, Weston became a dorm for philosophy at BC. I lived in a small community on Brighton Avenue, then Somerville and went to Harvard. I worked as a community organizer in East Boston during the summer. I only wore a habit at protest rallies against the Vietnam War. I had no regency. Woodstock moved to the Upper Westside, though it had really been closed.
As I think about “Jesuit DNA,” one thing is clear: 40 + years ago, the Jesuits had the brightest men and encouraged a kind of free thinking and critical analysis that distinguished them from regular priests, as well as most other religious. (I sure as hell wasn’t going to spend my life in choir stall like Merton though there was something about him that was really appealing, maybe it was just his writing.) And I know that I feel a real sympathy, sympatico, for Pope Francis, and I hope that he succeeds in some measure of reform. He does not have to approve gay marriage or ordain women, or make laypeople cardinals, to get my approval. He already has it. Just washing the feet of young people, including girls and Muslims, struggling to get right with life, that’s enough.
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