As I mark my 80th birthday this month, thoughts of mortality weigh heavily on my mind.
While I hope to savor two more decades of life, much like Jimmy Carter, I must face the reality that I could equally be gone in just 20 months.
The idea of death no longer feels like a distant abstraction.
Reflection on Mortality
St. Ignatius Loyola, in his Spiritual Exercises, prompts us to reflect on our mortality and evaluate our lives.
When engaging in such introspection, material success often fades in importance, regardless of one’s religious beliefs.
Among many, there’s a shared yearning for deeper connections with family and friends.
Yet, during these moments of contemplation, it’s easy to slip into negativity—reflecting on missed opportunities, the hurdles faced, and time wasted.
I admit that, as I began to write this piece, I felt that familiar pull toward regret about the paths not taken.
However, I strive to pivot my perspective toward gratitude.
Looking back, I can see how every setback—whether being overlooked for a job or facing dismissal—often paved the way for something better.
Even before I came into the world, I find countless reasons to be thankful: the marvels of creation, the arrival of the Son, the bravery of World War II soldiers, and the invaluable contributions of scientists and artists who have shaped our existence.
On a personal note, I owe a special debt of gratitude to my parents, devout Catholics who upheld the Church’s teachings on family planning.
I often find this somewhat ironic, as I do not believe all forms of artificial contraception are wrong.
My mother, already a mother of three and approaching 40, wasn’t inclined to be a stay-at-home parent; her passion lay in teaching.
My brother and I like to joke that we are “pre-pill babies.”
Gratitude for Influential Figures
I truly appreciate the nurse at Children’s Hospital in Los Angeles who cared for me during a critical period in my infancy.
I battled infant diarrhea shortly after birth—once a formidable threat to many children, but easily managed today.
This devoted nurse soothed me with a bottle until I began to thrive.
Moreover, I extend my gratitude to the Sisters of Providence who taught at St. Therese School in Alhambra.
Juggling classes of 30 students, they exemplified unwavering dedication and compassion.
While I did well in math and relished dissecting sentences, I struggled with memorization and often found myself eliminated early in spelling contests.
I find my memory akin to having limited storage but quick processing abilities.
Growing up before the internet era was a blessing.
In fact, we were among the last in our neighborhood to acquire a television, and with limited athletic skills, I turned to reading as my main source of joy.
In second grade, my teacher planted the seeds of my vocation when she asked what the world’s most important profession was.
While my classmates suggested roles like firefighter or policeman—one even proposed the president—Sister specified that the role of a priest held the highest significance.
This insight steered my journey.
Living just across from the parish church, I took on the role of altar boy and attended daily Mass, cementing my connection to the Church.
The influence of the Sisters almost led me to enter a diocesan seminary for high school—a path that no longer exists.
My parents remained neutral, allowing me to explore my own vocation, while my brother was skeptical.
He encouraged me to consult Father William Clasby, an Air Force colonel, who recommended that I consider attending Loyola High School—a move to counter the Sisters’ warnings that I might lose my vocation without formal seminary training.
At Loyola, I discovered a profound affinity for the Jesuit community.
I envisioned spending my life with these remarkable individuals.
Journey Through Change
I joined the Jesuits just before the reforms of Vatican II, experiencing an initial four years steeped in tradition.
We were viewed as guardians of the faith, the enforcers of Church doctrine, and the largest religious order within Catholicism.
My appreciation for the traditional Church was deeply rooted, as I was entirely unaware of any other perspective.
The transition to a reformed Church posed challenges for many of us.
Sadly, few leaders, including Jesuits, were equipped to navigate these changes.
Nevertheless, we eventually embraced the new Church with enthusiasm.
While preparing for a doctoral degree in political science at the University of California, Berkeley, I sought advice from a fellow Jesuit studying at Stanford.
To my surprise, he suggested seeking a Jewish advisor.
A Catholic director, he mentioned, might worry about perceptions of favoritism, and an agnostic advisor could lack the necessary understanding for effective mentorship.
A Jewish professor, however, would likely value having a priest as a student, relishing the chance to share insights into Jesuit experiences.
This decision led me to remarkable mentors, including distinguished political scientists like Nelson Polsby and Aaron Wildavsky.
Wildavsky guided me to focus my dissertation on taxation politics, a choice that led me to serve as a lobbyist advocating for tax reform for three years before I embarked on my writing career with America, a Jesuit weekly magazine.
Throughout these 80 years, I have felt the presence of a divine force accompanying my journey through random events and choices.
For this, I am thankful for the support I have received and the opportunities that emerged—even if they weren’t part of a grand plan.
I believe that God positively influenced my decisions, and even had I made different choices, my faith would have stood strong.
In my youth, I often felt an arrogance that led me to believe I could reshape the world—beginning with my personal transformation toward sainthood, which didn’t pan out.
Next, I aimed to reform the tax system, which also proved challenging.
Finally, my attempts to initiate change within the Church had predictable results.
When interviewing Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger for my book, Inside the Vatican, I asked if he feared stifling theologians who might later be acknowledged by the Church.
His advice was simple yet profound: pray and do your best.
As I look forward to the next 20 years, this wisdom will be my guiding principle.
Source: Religionnews
