By Mark Baumgarten
It is hard to believe that I am beginning my fourth year here in Rome. My time here is flying by, and I already find myself on the cusp of the most significant period of my priestly formation.
I have recently returned to Rome after a refreshing visit home to Perth.
Alongside the welcome opportunity to reconnect with family members and friends, I was also able to take part in a very worthwhile parish placement with the good people of Our Lady of Lourdes parish in Rockingham.
Indeed, over the past couple of years I have felt a steadily growing desire to engage in parish ministry, which is no doubt a good sign given that it’s the whole point of this seminary caper which is now in its latter stages.
I’ve been back at the North American College for a couple of weeks now, and I’ve been slowly getting used to being one of the senior men in the house.
It’s an exciting time for my fourth-year brothers and I as we prepare for our ordination as deacons in a few short days (October 3rd).
One of the great privileges of studying in Rome is that we get to have our diaconate ordination in St Peter’s Basilica at the Altar of the Chair (though not with the pope, in case you were wondering!).
The diaconate is when we seminarians officially become clerics, and make the promises of celibacy, obedience, and prayer.
For these reasons the diaconate ordination is sometimes compared to a wedding ceremony, in that it is the definitive moment of a life-long commitment in which the proverbial door is closed behind us.
It also marks the final stage of preparation prior to our priestly ordinations next year.
As with weddings, it is not unusual for a mixture of excitement and trepidation to be felt in the lead-up to the big day.
Yet alongside such emotions I’ve also been feeling something more significant as the ordination has drawn near: a strong sense of solemnity.
Despite the immense joy and satisfaction that I am confident awaits me in my future ministry, the step I am preparing to take is not primarily about living happily ever after.
As with all walks of life as they mature, I have become increasingly aware that the path on which I am being led will involve considerable suffering and sacrifice.
It will involve dying to the things of this world, for the sake of life eternal.
This is the counter-intuitive logic of the Cross: that through self-emptying and self-sacrifice comes a lasting joy that the passing powers of this world cannot touch.
Furthermore, I am particularly conscious of the large responsibilities that I will be given in short order – and let’s just say that I don’t want to mess up.
I will no doubt make my share of mistakes, but I do hope that there won’t be anything too egregious in the mix.
I am also very conscious that I am the recipient of a faith that has been handed on—often thanks to great sacrifices made by those who have gone before me—and that my task will be to live up to the salutary example of my predecessors in the faith.
Lest I need any reminder of this, I will be ordained only metres away from where St Peter endured a gruesome execution in the name of this faith.
As such, I will strive to serve as I have been so generously served myself, and to shine the tender light of Christ on a hurting world.
And so, I now prepare to freely give up the life I once knew, so as to live out of love for another.
In some ways I will remain the person I have always been, yet in other ways I will not be that person at all.
This paradox will probably take some getting used to, both for me and for my friends and family. So be it.
Conscious of my own weakness, I thank you all for your love and support over the years, and I ask for your prayers for my brothers and I as we enter into our life’s calling…