Last year, my friend
Megan and I collaborated to create a post called “Religious: They’re Just LikeUs!”, which points out that people
called to religious vocations are still that: people! I had the incredibly fun job of photographing religious on
campus doing totally normal things, from casually riding their bikes on DeBart
Quad to waiting in line at Starbucks in LaFun.
In the wake of that
project, I have found myself curious about life as a priest. They’re just like
us, in that they are human. But they also have a particular set of stories to
share that aren’t the same as those of lay men and women. What did their calls
to priesthood sound like? Did many of them date before entering the seminary?
Were their family and friends supportive of their vocations? How often do they
receive the sacrament of Reconciliation?
In the top left corner of
my collage for the “Religious: They’re Just Like Us!” post, I included a
picture of Fr. David Scheidler, C.S.C. dressed in an orange sweater (his
favorite color) and dropping a bag of oranges down a flight of stairs (i.e.
“Religious – They Drop Oranges Down Stairs in Orange Sweaters – They’re Just Like Us!”). This
week, I had the privilege of chatting with Fr. David, the infamous
orange-dropper and the Assistant Rector of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart,
about some of the particular elements of his experience as a priest.
Childhood
Fr. David’s call was like a “slow but very powerfully moving train,” which began to enter his consciousness around age ten. David was not one to “play Mass” with his friends or siblings when he was young, nor did he entertain daydreams of crafting the greatest, most engaging homily ever. Rather, he did quite the opposite for a long time, insisting that he did not want to be a priest and almost looking for things that would contradict the presence of that train.
Dating
Throughout high school
and college, David’s main mission was to “find himself” and his way. He attended
dances with female classmates as just friends, but admittedly did keep trying
to contradict the slow but powerful call to priesthood by seeing if the call to
marriage would be greater. It never was. But his dating experiences from early
in his life have been useful in his ministry: whenever students come to him for
advice about dating, especially about whether to take the risk of pursuing
romance in a friendship, he says, “always
risk the friendship. Go for it.” You will never know unless you try.
Entering the seminary
After college, David was
hired in New York, where he worked 60-80 hour weeks. During a year of keeping
up this tough schedule, attending daily Mass kept David “sane.” The frequency
with which he celebrated Mass helped him not to be so afraid of being honest
about God’s working in his life. He entered the seminary the next year.
Family and friends
I asked Fr. David whether
his family and friends were supportive of his choice to enter the seminary. He
said one of his religion teachers had been instrumental in encouraging him in
theology classes, and when he informed her about his decision, she simply said,
“It’s about time.” Some of his
family had similar reactions. It was almost as if he was the last one to accept
his call, and that people who knew him best had already hopped aboard the slow,
powerfully moving train.
Fr. David shared a story
that gave me chills: at the vocational fair at his home parish the year
previous to his decision to enter the seminary, both of his parents had
individually written down his name as someone they wanted the parish to keep in
their prayers regarding vocations. Their prayers had been answered. While many
of his friends were surprised when he announced his decision to enter the
seminary and a few of his siblings were at first taken aback at how differently
their sibling relationships would look in adulthood due to his choice, everyone
was ultimately extremely supportive.
Being one of eight
siblings, Fr. David has 43 nieces and nephews. Even though he does not have
children of his own to raise alongside those of his siblings (the Scheidlers
grew up knowing their cousins as almost another set of siblings, so this had
been a long-anticipated family experience), he has had the unique privilege of playing a special part in the life
of his family due to his priesthood in ways he would not otherwise be able
to. He has been the celebrant at six weddings for his siblings and has
ministered the vast majority of the 43 baptisms of his nieces and nephews. He
is affectionately known as “Uncle David” to the 43, not as “Fr. David,” as he
is to the rest of us. He explained how neat it is to watch the wonder on the
youngest faces of the clan as they watch him say Mass and try to put together
the pieces. Recently, one three-year-old niece chanted his name over and over
again during Mass, as if cheering him on while he led the congregation in the
celebration of the Word and the Eucharist.
The privilege of
priesthood
“If you tried to deny
your call for a while when you were younger,” I wondered out loud to Fr. David
during our conversation, “when was it
that you discovered that you wanted to be a priest?”
“The day after my ordination,” he laughed.
After accepting his call
to priesthood, David obediently followed it, knowing that his vocation was to
religious life. And while in the seminary, he continually prayed for the grace
to eventually want to be a priest
himself.
It was during the first
mass he said, an 11:45am Folk Choir Mass at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart
the day after he was ordained, that his prayer was answered. He realized the
people in the congregation were looking to
him, but not at him. “It’s not me they’re looking at. They want
to see Christ.” Fr. David explained that he is “so grateful that [he] didn’t
let [his] own ego and fears and pride stand in the way of God’s call,” and
remarked that he views priesthood as a “profound
privilege.”
God’s presence
“What does God’s voice
sound like? Is Morgan Freeman an accurate representation?”
Fr. David explained that
he does not hear God’s voice as a physical sound, but rather feels His
presence. This presence is akin to a
warm blanket being hugged around his shoulders from behind. What a
beautiful image. The feeling of being wrapped up in God’s presence arrives as a
comforting confirmation in Fr. David’s life.
“If I had to assign a
voice to God, though,” Fr. David explained, “it would be my grandmother’s
voice.” Sweet, cozy, and comforting. Kind of like a warm blanket. And what does
Fr. David have draped over the chair at his desk? A Notre Dame blanket.
Reconciliation
Fr. David hears
confessions at least once a week at the Basilica, if not more. I was curious
about how often he got to receive the sacrament of Reconciliation himself.
According to the constitution of the Holy Cross order, Holy Cross priests are
to engage in “lifelong examination” and “lifelong growth,” receiving the
sacrament themselves an “appropriately frequent” amount. For Fr. David, an
ideal amount would be once a month. In reality, he goes about every three
months.
Interestingly, Fr. David
shared that he feels it is in fact possible to go to confession too frequently.
For some individuals, going to confession too often shifts their focus to the
force of sin in their lives, rather than focusing on God’s grace and mercy. It
is key for each individual to find a healthy balance when it comes to this
sacrament.
Why Holy Cross?
My final question to Fr.
David was simple. Why did he choose the Holy Cross order?
After hearing some
background about his family life growing up, it is not surprising that the
community element of the Holy Cross order was extremely attractive to him.
The first saint from the
Congregation of Holy Cross, Brother Andre Bessette, was the humble doorkeeper
at Notre Dame College in Montreal for 40 years. His vocation was to welcome and
love others. St. Andre’s welcoming disposition is indicative of those of so many
other Holy Cross brothers, which is what first appealed to Fr. David.
And, he smiled, his
brothers are “so consistently wise,
insightful, and happy.”
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