By Fr. Jerry Hardy

Some of you may have seen the recent article in the ATLANTA JOURNAL which quoted me. As a matter of fact, I don’t know how you could have missed it – the photograph was so big!

My comments touched on two things that have become much easier for me over the past few years: conviction and solidarity. They are not haphazardly related. As a matter of fact, they feed each other.

I am more convinced of what my life as priest is all about today than I have been at any time since I was ordained. I hope I’ll be able to say the same thing every year ‘til I die. Why? Because convictions are not for containers that we seal like coffins, priding ourselves on having them correctly catalogued and certified. They smother and die in us if we never take them out and ask ourselves about them. Convictions are living things. They breathe the air of our attitudes; they suffer the sun of our selfishness; they thrive on the rains of our discontent.

Over the past few years priests have had to question their convictions, and for a number of reasons. Older priests saw the Church change complexion before their eyes and had difficulty recognizing what that had committed to. Younger priests, like me, watched some of their best friends walk away from the ministry to which we had committed together. It was a time when yesterday’s convictions had to become today’s conversation.

For me it was a time to see more clearly that the reality of Church was worth it and possible, that what the Lord said then was good for now, that people could use what I could be to them. Those are not assumptions you make when taking a stand with your life; they are questions you ask and ask and ask – alone and with others who, are a part of the search. That’s the way in which solidarity is born, a kind of bonding fashioned by a kindred spirit. That kind of hassling with convictions is not unique to the ministry. Husbands and wives have to do it, unless they just want to pass each other like ships in the night.

As I mentioned in the JOURNAL, I think we’re stronger for all that questioning. Not because we now have all the answers, but maybe because we realized that the value of some questions lies not in their answers but in their being asked to begin with. We don’t really answer the ultimate questions of life; we just get better and better at asking them.

What does this have to do with a column aimed at parental attitudes toward vocations? Just this:

What are your convictions about the Church, about Jesus and his meaning for your life?

Are they strong enough to suggest to your son or daughter that they should seriously consider a life-style choice of full-time commitment to those convictions?

Sure, there are other options. But do you consider this one viable? It’s a question of conviction.