I struggled even writing this, never mind trying to summarise almost 16 years of my on and off friendship with this person. I wanted to share my story to let others know that they’re not alone (because for a while, I felt very alone and as if no one could understand). If I’m being honest, I’m looking for advice and a resolution too. My name is MA and my priest is J.
I
met J through a family friend; they were both attending seminary at
the time. I was attending a mass for vocations and after, I went down
to the church hall for refreshments. It was then that J caught my eye
across the room and right away, I wanted to know: “who is HE?” I
cannot tell you how silly I felt when my friend introduced him as a
fellow seminarian (he was not dressed in his collar). We talked for a
while and I was struck by his smile, his dimples, and his pure
excitement about becoming a priest, as well as his commitment to our
faith and God. Frankly, I was blown away by the sheer chemistry and
energy radiating off him and between us. For the record, it was the
first (and last) time someone had ever caught my eye in that way.
Regardless, I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again.
The
following summer, he was placed at my Mom’s church as an intern.
Right away, we clicked. We often joined other parishioners for
coffee, attended masses for vocations around my state, and he even
met a few of my closest friends and family. At this point, I wasn’t
thinking of J as anything other than a mentor of sorts, someone who I
could talk about my faith with. He also seemed proud of my work in
the healthcare field and we discussed helping others a lot. He shared
he had been engaged prior to entering the priesthood and had needed
to take a break from seminary in order to discern whether he was on
the right path. J admitted he struggled with celibacy and the thought
of not being a father.
By
the end of that summer, we were even closer & I felt sad that I
was losing my friend as he headed back to the seminary. I was also a
little shocked and confused as to why he hadn’t yet asked me for my
email (no cells back then!). He waited literally until minutes before
leaving and heading back to ask me for my contact info. I wish I had
seen the confusion I felt then for what it was— a foreshadowing of
feelings that would characterize and haunt our relationship.
We
continued to email at least weekly during his school year and then he
started calling me at work. It happened so often, that I actually got
in trouble. Not to mention, every time he called, he would say it was
“Father J,” making the poor receptionist have a heart attack,
thinking that something bad had happened to someone in my family. I
was there for his transitional deaconate ceremony and celebrated with
him after. He introduced me to his family and I became friends with
some of his family members, often emailing them on a regular basis.
His
last year of seminary, J. treated me much like the previous year,
except our contact greatly increased. A few months before his
ordination, he confided that he “wasn’t so sure he wanted to do
this and that his biggest fear was getting to his mid-40’s and
realizing that he wanted to be a husband and a father.” At this
point, I was starting to become physically attracted to J. and
finding him working his way into my thoughts more and more. I
struggled between the desires of my heart, being a good Catholic and
friend, and giving him unbiased advice. I tried to give the best
advice I could, encouraging him to take a good, hard look at his
motivations. J. basically summed it up as: “My parents want me to
be a priest. Besides, what else would I do? I didn’t go to
college.” At the time, he neglected to tell me he was a trained
healthcare professional himself.
In
the end, he followed through with being ordained and it was one of
the proudest, yet hardest, days of my life (it still is). I knew how
he had struggled with the academic work, his emotions, but persevered
because of his strong faith. As he lied prostrate, it felt like a
knife to my heart. I love my faith and God, so I felt guilty and
ashamed for feeling this way. It was that very day, probably the
proudest day of his life, that I realized I was in love with him. The
irony was not lost on me.
J
ended up in his first placement as a parochial vicar not far from
where I live. He invited me to his first mass and told me that my
being there helped to decrease his nerves. He also asked me to
continue to attend mass there and I found no problem with this, as I
was dating a man from the area and often spent my weekends there. J
was aware of this and made it obvious he didn’t approve. Despite
the tension that my having a significant other created, our
friendship continued to strengthen and we started to create special
moments together. One snowy Xmas Eve J. begged me not to leave, as
he was “lonely” and estranged from some of his family at that
time. I helped to advocate for a family member of his when insurance
would no longer cover her chemotherapy and filled out numerous
amounts of paperwork to get her additional resources. Meanwhile, my
faith was growing stronger than ever, but so were my feelings for J.
Looking back on it now, I find it odd how I never dreamed that he
could possibly reciprocate those feelings; I was brainwashed and saw
him as a priest, not a human being. A person not only who is capable
of love, but might even be desiring it. It was only until J started
acting funny that I questioned his intentions, but immediately
dismissed them. He insisted I have a confession with him when I
thought it was a conflict of interest and fought with me about not
attending a pilgrimage to Italy with his church (I couldn’t afford
it at the time, he offered to pay for me). After mass on a beautiful
spring day, he offered to walk me to my car after we spent hours
chatting and laughing after mass. A red flag went up; I found it
strange because we were in a suburban, safe neighborhood, with my car
tucked safely in the church parking lot, in broad daylight. However,
I was used to his being courteous, and he always walked me to my car
but it was always in the presence of fellow priests. I started to
feel funny as I loaded my things into my car, only to turn and find
him leaning against my door, in close proximity to me. I started to
feel that awkwardness when a first date is ending and you don’t
know if the guy is going to kiss you or not. I didn’t know if he
was going to do or say something, but I knew whatever was coming
would change things for both of us forever, so I literally pushed him
away, said goodbye, and drove off. I remember, still to this day,
seeing his face in my rearview and cried the whole way home. It was
the last time I would see him for a decade. There are no words to
describe how I felt that day, other than I loved him so much, I
wanted to protect him. I also didn’t want to hurt God. I thought of
J over the years and wondered if my gut intuition was right regarding
his feelings for me and what he was going to do that day or if I
totally misread the whole thing.
To
make an already long story longer (kudos if you read this far), I
ended up lapsing and not going to church for 6 years. I would be
lying if I said my love for J wasn’t part of it. However, my faith
and spirituality never faltered. It is my main coping mechanism
despite chronic health issues and frankly, it’s what keeps me
going. About a year ago, I started to get serious about returning to
church and yearned for a place where I wouldn’t be judged, feel
comfortable, and not be forced by the pastor to get involved behind
the scenes in various roles (this has been an issue for me in almost
every church I’ve attended). I looked up J to see where he was and
found he was assigned to a parish in the same city I work. I
attempted to contact him via parish email to break the ice and make
it less awkward for us both if I decided to show up. Naively, I
figured that so many years had passed; there would be no harm in
seeing him again. I assumed he’s now an experienced pastor, that I
have grown leaps and bounds and am pretty good at detecting red flags
(that’s what happens folks when you’ve been dating since 15!),
and that my feelings for him had leveled out because of lack of
contact. I even prayed continuously and agonized over my decision. I
prepared myself for seeing someone who might have changed in ways I
would not appreciate, expected him to be different, even prepared
myself that he might have a significant other (yes, we all know the
reality). Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I’ve dealt with
since my return.
He
claims he never got my email message and within minutes of sitting
down at my first mass there, I realized my instincts and gut feelings
so many years ago were spot on. He turned pale, then beet red,
stumbling over his words, hands shaking when he gave me communion,
fidgeting when sitting on the altar. I have seen him drop the
Eucharist once or twice and it was always the person before me in
line. I cannot tell you how awful I felt, as if I was causing him to
feel uncomfortable on his own turf and screw up his at his job.
I
have never had a more awkward conversation, as I attempted to explain
my presence to him. He couldn’t even look me in the eye and
reprimanded me for disappearing all those years ago and not telling
him why. I think he sees my leaving years ago as rejection, not the
protection I intended. However, he never contacted me to see if
everything was ok either. I was struck how emotionally immature he
seemed, able to interact with parishioners quite easily, but not with
me. For some reason with me it seems different; it’s hurtful and
painful. J insists he “likes having me there and it’s not awkward
for him,” but I don’t feel he’s being honest. There are days
he’s friendly and like old J I knew, we laugh and talk with no
issues. Then there are others where he ignores me and I don’t know
how to act myself. I have always felt comfortable talking to a wide
range of people, especially males; I am a tomboy and have mostly male
friends. I talk and listen to people for a living, so to be
struggling like this is a foreign concept for me. People always tell
me that I am easy to talk to, that they feel like they’ve known me
for years, and can trust me with anything. It says something that I
don’t know how to act when I’m around J.
Over
the summer, I started taking J’s unwillingness to open up
personally. I also noticed his friendliness and closeness to another
female parishioner our age, who is married and whose husband holds a
highly respected job. She is actively involved in the parish in a
variety of roles and donates a substantial amount of money to the
church. I have seen him engage in a way that I think is inappropriate
for a pastor to engage with a parishioner but then I think: “am I
just biased? Is it purely the fact that she gives money?” I am
aware the church is a business. I don’t find that a comfort
though—it makes me think less of him and get angry. If money is
what he bases his friendships on, I find it sad and hypocritical. I
can’t afford to give thousands to my church, but it doesn’t mean
I love God any less. I also don’t want to think of the alternative,
that she’s special to him in a way she shouldn’t be.
I
struggle to understand why he has no issue interacting with this
woman but gets nervous and discombobulated around me. I feel jealous
and frustrated, as if I’m on an emotional roller coaster. I’m
beginning to think we weren’t as close as I thought.
As
soon as I pull away emotionally and get to a good place, it seems as
if J can almost sense it, and he’ll do something to pull me back
in. One day, it was telling how he was struggling. I didn’t want to
talk personal issues in front of other parishioners, so I told him to
text or call, whatever he felt comfortable with if he needed someone
to talk to. It’s something I would do for any friend in need. He’s
never once texted, emailed, or called. It’s disconcerting when we
used to talk every single week, almost daily. I began thinking if it
weren’t for Mary and the Eucharist, I’d consider becoming
Protestant. I struggled over the summer to see how my faith could
continue to grow in this church, but I didn’t feel like leaving
either. I like the people, feel comfortable for the most part, and
was doing fine when I got to a peaceful place about J. Finally, I got
to a good place emotionally and it lasted for a few months. I was
proud of myself.
That
all changed. After recently experiencing a serious trauma, suddenly
nothing mattered—not J, not this other woman—nothing was as
important and crucial to my well-being as God and my faith. I am so
thankful and grateful not only to be alive, but to have come to see
it as a learning experience that readjusted my priorities. J was
involved in my healing process and was honest; he admitted it scared
him to see me that way. He told me that “out of all people, you
don’t deserve this.”
Since
then, I have noticed J. attempting to connect with me, but his
immaturity and arrested development often get in the way and act as
an obstacle in growing our friendship. He does small things, often
within homilies or during prayers that I know are geared towards me.
At first, I found myself thinking: “am I narcissistic? Egocentric?
I think that was meant for me!” But then a smile or direct eye
contact will reassure me, yes, I’m not crazy. I still find my mind
drifting off to him, like a school girl with a crush. I feel sad,
confused, angry, worried, and alone; it’s not exactly as if I can
talk to just anyone about this. There are times, though, when I’m
talking to him or praying with him, that I feel such joy and love,
love for not only J, but an overwhelming love and closeness to God.
One of J’s smiles can send me floating for days.
That
being said for me, knowledge is power. I have actually sought out
support groups online and in the process, read research and many
books about this issue. Yes, women love priests. Some because it’s
a challenge, some because they “lack self-esteem,” others because
they love the priest not for his role, but because of the amazing man
beneath the collar. I fall in this last category; I love J. for who
he is, not WHAT he is. Yes, I’ve said it; I’m in love with a
priest. It feels freeing to finally say those words. And I am no
longer naïve to the fact that priests often love a woman back. I
have rationalized my awareness that this man may indeed love me back
for way too long. The key is he’ll never love me back in the way I
deserve or need. I’ve come to understand that there is no happy
ending in this situation. Will I ever tell J how I feel? Probably
not, although if he directly calls me out on it, I wouldn’t lie. I
don’t plan on leaving his church any time soon either, but don’t
have plans to pursue more than a friendship. Believe me, if J ever
tells me he’s leaving the priesthood, I’d be the first one (in a
long line of women I’m sure) ready and eager to pursue a
relationship, one that we both deserve and would be on equal footing.
Meanwhile,
I plan on devoting some of my energy to advocating for the married
priest movement. Why shouldn’t priests be able to marry? I find it
ironic, as they speak about love and counsel married couples. Should
a man who has chosen to spread the word of God be “punished” by
an inability to experience God’s greatest gift—love? There is no
way that anything that involves love can be a sin because it is of
God. Period.
In
ending, thank you for reading my story. It is because of the courage
of the many folks who contribute to this blog that I was finally able
to tell my story. I know many of you will relate to me and support
me, but I’m also aware that others may think my feelings are wrong
and am prepared for possible criticism. If you’re in the latter
group, I only ask you to think of how it felt when you first
experienced love: the excitement, the joy, and the confusion at
times. Be kind to one another and may God continue to bless us all on
our individual journeys.
Merry Christmas to All! Readers, let’s be charitable by finding the right phrase or writing, to help this lady.
