Ordo Praedicatorum

Br. Jim McCormack, MIC (a Marian seminarian) is no stranger to the Dominicans, currently a student at the Dominican House of Studies, Br. Jim recalls his time at Yale attending Mass at St. Mary’s and his call to the priesthood.

Mary’s gentle guidance’ This Marian seminarian fought his vocation for years, but Our Lady wouldn’t give up on him. by Br. Jim McCormack, MIC

(Marian Helper Magazine/Summer 07)

On Aug. 15, 2006, the Solemnity of the Assumption, I made my first vows as a Marian at the National Shrine of The Divine Mercy in Stockbridge, MA. I followed the altar servers up the main aisle as the Mass started. The organ and the voices of the congregation filled the air with the majestic notes of “Hail, Holy Queen Enthroned Above.” When I reached the front, I genuflected and took the place reserved for me in front of the first pew. I looked up, and there she was, high above the altar: the statue of Mary Immaculate enthroned in glory. It was Mary who had been leading me step by step to this moment when I would officially become a consecrated religious — set apart for the Lord and Our Lady.

How did she do it? Mary works slowly at first I had been raised Catholic and attended CCD classes, but, after my Confirmation, I drifted away from the practice of my faith. I went to college at Yale and majored in electrical engineering. There, I became so absorbed in my studies that I felt I didn’t have time for God. During my senior year, however, Mary began to work on me — slowly at first. My roommate, who usually went home on the weekends, stayed on campus occasionally to participate in senior activities. When he did, he would often ask me if I wanted to join him for Mass. Since I had no reason not to, I accepted. Where would we go? Where else? St. Mary’s Church.

The next year, during my graduate studies at Stanford University, a friend invited me to several functions run by the Catholic organization Opus Dei, including a retreat. When the time came for confession, everyone else on retreat got in
line, but I held back, debating. It had been so long since my last confession. Eventually, the line was gone and the last penitent had left. It was my turn. Despite my hesitancy, I entered and knelt down. I told the priest that I didn’t know what to do. He reassured me and taught me how to begin. In a calm and compassionate voice, he gently led me through a list of common sins based on the 10 Commandments, and I told him which ones I had committed. When I emerged some time later, I felt lighter. My fears had vanished. On that same retreat, I also learned to pray the Rosary. It was on the schedule, but I arrived a few minutes late. The others had already started. The friend who had invited me on the retreat saw me and came over. He whispered, “Would you like to lead?” “Uh, no thanks,” I replied. Lead? I didn’t even know how to pray it, let alone lead it. So he gave me a spare rosary and invited me to sit near him.

Soon, my fingers were easily moving along the beads. Anxiety over my vocation During that first year of graduate school, I received the first indication that God was calling me to the priesthood. I was at an Opus Dei talk on celibacy. “This talk is great for those who are called to a life of celibacy,” I thought to myself, “but what about me?” In that moment, it seemed that the Lord was asking me, “What about you?” “No way!” I thought. “Celibacy is not for me. I want to get married.” After I graduated, I moved to Colorado and struggled for six years to keep thoughts of the priesthood out of my mind. But little reminders would interrupt my otherwise contented existence, such as opening a dictionary to find the word “priest” at the top of the page. Each reminder would bring back that old feeling of anxiety. I had many mistaken ideas of the priesthood and what it would cost me to say “yes.” But this anxiety was something deeper — it was a fear of loneliness, of not being able to share life’s experiences with another. Wondering after a nudge Yet all I needed was a little nudge. It came one day when I received a letter informing me that I had been nominated by my pastor to serve on the Archdiocesan Pastoral Council in Denver.

“If I accept,” I thought to myself, “the Archbishop will ask me to be a priest.” I had a sense, though, that serving on the council was something that the Lord was asking me to do for Him. I wanted to do this for Him. With my hand shaking, I wrote “yes” on the nomination paper. Sure enough, I was elected. And after one of our first meetings, while walking out to the parking lot, the Archbishop turned to me and asked, “So, how come you’re not a priest?” “Well, I’m dating this girl,” I replied and thought to myself, “Phew! That was close.” Ironically, dating helped me answer God’s call to the priesthood. As the relationship progressed and marriage seemed likely, I felt that I could safely get involved in parish activities without
the risk that doing so would lead to the priesthood. I soon found myself teaching Confirmation to teens and a post-Confirmation class to young adults. All the while, my devotion to Our Lady continued to grow.

I read St. Louis de Montfort’s True Devotion to Mary. Then, on Mary’s birthday (September 8) in 2001, I made the act of consecration to the Lord through Our Lady. Now I was “all hers.” Apparently, Mary wouldn’t have any competition — for within three months, my dating relationship came to an end. Finding peace at last. That’s when Mary began to guide me in even more apparent ways. For years, I had wanted to visit Italy, and I figured that doing so would be a great way to test my vocation. After the first five days, however, some of those familiar feelings of anxiety came back. “I can’t do this,” I thought to myself. But, the next day, I visited the Holy House of Loreto. This one-room stone structure is believed to be the house from Nazareth in which Our Lady lived and where the Annunciation occurred. When I entered the Holy House, I knelt down and began to pray the Rosary. In an instant, my anxieties about the priesthood melted away, and I experienced a deep sense of peace.

I knew then that I would have nothing to fear because Our Lady is always there, leading me to her Son. Mary also played a significant role in helping me choose the Marians. The first time I visited the National Shrine of The Divine Mercy, the pilgrim statue of Our Lady of Fatima was there. Later, as I prayed about joining the Marians, I was kneeling in front of a statue of Our Lady where I had come to pray almost daily for about two years. However, that day, I looked up and noticed faint gold letters on the halo above her head. It was the word “Immaculata.” My decision was easy. I chose the Marians of the Immaculate Conception. I am so grateful to Mary for her gentle guidance in my life. I encourage you to entrust your needs to her, knowing that she is always there, leading each of us to her Son.

Br. Jim McCormack, MIC, lives at the Marian seminary in Washington, DC. He is studying theology at the Dominican House of Studies.

Trackback URI |