Forbidden Rome, page 14
“What do you feel like eating tonight?” Maria asked.
“I don’t really care, but can we go someplace quiet, away from the tourist areas?”
“You’re a mind-reader. I know just the place.”
***
Maria and Miguel had written to each other several times during the months they were apart, and it was clear to both of them that their affection for one another had continued to grow. His first letter was a profound description of the internal struggle Miguel was battling. His written words conveyed a level of clarity that he could only hint at during their discussions. Writing allowed him to communicate the depth of his feelings for Maria while also explaining his intense attraction to the priesthood.
Maria was totally blown away by the beauty of his prose. It was pure poetry. She had never been with anyone like Miguel. The boys she had dated in the past were party guys that enjoyed drinking and carrying on. She never expected anything serious from them, nor did she care to dive deeper into her own heart. Maria enjoyed dating enough, but she found most guys tiresome, too many games, and very little depth. Relationships with them never seemed to have substance. For that, she looked to her girlfriends or college roommates. Miguel was beyond different. He treated her with respect – as an intellectual equal.
Though she knew that he was attracted to her, she never felt objectified. Unlike her other boyfriends, sleeping together wasn’t the ultimate goal. The playful banter they shared was witty and amusing. But the ease with which they transitioned into intimate conversations was startling.
She found herself challenging him and asking personal questions that most guys would never entertain, and Miguel responded willingly. Maria’s vivacious personality often attracted guys that just wanted to have a good time. Most never took the time to get to know her. She found herself in unfamiliar territory with Miguel, and Maria barely understood how it all began.
Before she knew it, she was emotionally attached to this Roman seminarian. What the hell? she thought. How did this happen so quickly? She was also quite aware of how complicated their budding relationship was. Miguel was unavailable – he was a seminarian, for god-sake!
She wasn’t sure when it happened, but Maria was quite taken with him. Miguel’s letters tapped her reflective instincts. Maria thought intensely about the meaning of her life and her goals. While many of her classmates knew the career path to take after college, Maria did not. She believed she would figure that out as her life unfolded. In her journal, she wrote about the many adventures she had while trying to make sense of her struggles. Maria had always searched for a deeper meaning in life. Her gregarious personality didn’t reveal her true depth. Only Maria’s dearest friends were given a glimpse. Miguel’s letters, so eloquently written, frightened her. In some ways, she was entirely out of her depth – she felt a little intimidated. Miguel was two years older and seemed so wise. Strangely, she never felt that way when they were together. But somehow, his written word had tapped into her core.
When Miguel even called her on Thanksgiving Day, Maria’s fears swiftly dissolved. Merely hearing his voice made her realize that he was real, that what they shared was mutual. They launched into an animated conversation about their New Year’s plans and laughed about all the crazy personalities at NAC. They seamlessly transitioned into their own struggles – being away from home on Thanksgiving and their loneliness. They chatted for nearly an hour, which was exorbitantly expensive.
“Hey, handsome, I love that you called me, but we’ve been on the phone forever. This is going to cost you a fortune,” Maria finally said. She did not know the breadth of his family’s wealth.
“You’re worth it, Maria. I mean it,” Miguel replied.
“How are you so wonderful? I mean, I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“You make it easy, Maria. I can’t wait to see you next month,” Miguel said.
“Yeah, me too.”
***
Being in a group for the first day and a half tortured both of them. They were finally alone, thanks to Anthony’s stomach virus. The irony didn’t escape either of them. It took his illness to give them an evening alone, and he was the one who actually brought them together.
After a short walk, they had arrived at a cozy little restaurant in the neighborhood where she lived.
“Voilà,” she sang with a sweep of her arm.
Once again, Miguel was under her spell. Rather than sit across from her in the booth, Miguel took his place beside her. The intimacy that had begun during her visit to Rome came right back, and by dessert, Miguel had his arm around her. Maria leaned into him, and her shoulder fit comfortably under his wing. As he walked her home, they held hands like high school sweethearts.
“So, what are we doing here, Miguel?”
“I really don’t know. But I do know that I really like you,” Miguel said.
“And the priesthood?”
“Yeah, I guess I have some decisions to make.”
“I guess you do.”
He leaned down and kissed her tenderly. She gave into him, and before long, they were kissing like teenagers leaning against the wrought iron fence outside of her building. When they broke for air, he looked up at her apartment and said, “I guess I can’t come up, huh?”
“No, not unless you want to tangle with Madamme Beaulieu. She’s very protective of her girls.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, my dear, we’ll have the whole day together.”
She kissed him, then playfully pinched his cheek.
“You’re adorable, you know.”
She disappeared into the apartment as Miguel stood motionless, staring after her.
***
Even though he was in a rush, Miguel walked around a nearby park. He needed time to think, and the cold Paris winter was the perfect company for his conflicting thoughts. Miguel had been with girls before, but it had been years before. He had been so young when he last dated. This was obviously different – Maria was a woman. She didn’t play childish games and didn’t let him get away with anything. Her questions were direct, and she challenged him when he avoided giving answers. He had been more himself with her during the last few hours than he had been with anyone before. Not even Anthony and Kevin knew the depth of his internal battle. Miguel dreamed about making love to her–he was in dangerous waters.
They had only known each other for a few months, and she was still in college, not to mention that he was a seminarian. How could this possibly work? Physically shaking his head as he walked, it looked as if he were arguing with a friend.
She is unlike anyone I have ever known. If I don’t seize this moment, it may never happen again. But surely, she can’t be ready for such a serious relationship, can she? It doesn’t matter; I have to be with her, he thought. But somewhere inside, he still had that nagging desire to become a priest. Damn it! Enough of this. Perhaps it’s time for a new direction. He was dead tired when he lay his head down on his pillow, but sleep evaded him.
***
The days leading up to New Year’s Eve were like a dream. Each of them seemed to let go of their worries and enjoyed the holiday festivities. Anthony noticed how affectionate Maria and Miguel were, and he knew her well enough to know that she was smitten. He saw that they had passed the flirting stage. A comfortable intimacy had replaced the superficial banter. Anthony watched their conversations delve into more substantial topics. They discussed celibacy, Church corruption, and the desire to have children. They bickered good-naturedly and seemed entirely content in each other’s company. He was happy for the two of them, but wondered what that meant for Miguel.
How would he reconcile this new relationship with NAC and the priesthood? Then again, Anthony questioned his own future there as well.
Maria filled their days with visits to museums and quaint cafes or restaurants beyond the city center. Each night, after everyone had gone off to bed, Miguel would walk Maria to her residence.
The ritual was the same each night–they’d kiss and giggle, then he’d stroll back to his room. His reflections were filled with scenarios of What if? There were so many possibilities. Why not explore them?
On New Year’s Eve, the merry seminarians led by Maria basked in the holiday festivities. They enjoyed a great meal, watched a fire eater entertain the crowd outside of their restaurant, and wandered around Paris with the many other revelers. As midnight approached, they strolled down the Champs de Lyse. They were entranced by the grand display of fireworks above the Arc de Triomphe when the clock struck the final hour of 1982. Their troubles seemed so far away, and they rejoiced in the celebration of a new year to come and new beginnings for each of them.
Chapter Twenty
The Inquisitor
Candidacy is the first official step toward priesthood. Upon return from Christmas vacation, NAC was a flurry of activity to prepare for the big day. The formation team met with the new men countless times. After two weeks away, Anthony returned with a renewed commitment to his vocation. It had done a world of good to get a little distance from the petty drama within his class. He was floating on a cloud after a productive meeting with his new spiritual director at the Casa. Father Garcia was an amazing man who was pursuing a doctoral degree in spirituality. Anthony had begun informal spiritual direction with Garcia back in November, but he was afraid to ask the rector for an official switch from Father Connick.
He knew it was unethical to deceive him, especially when he barely shared any meaningful spiritual or emotional information with Connick during their sessions. Anthony believed their meetings were useless. He needed to process the many complex emotions he was experiencing, and he just didn’t feel comfortable with him. During one of their appointments, Father Connick asked him directly.
“Anthony, you have been meeting with Father Garcia quite often, haven’t you?”
“Yes, he’s a terrific person, and he’s helped me through some of my struggles with homesickness.”
“Does he act as a spiritual director as well?”
Anthony knew this was a trap. He had to navigate it very carefully. “No, not really. It wouldn’t be right to have two spiritual directors.”
“You are correct. But it seems that our conversations remain safely on the surface. Why do you think that is?”
“Well, to be quite honest with you, Father, I am more than a little intimidated by you. I am afraid to be as vulnerable with you as I should.”
“But that is what I’m here for. The faculty is here to guide as you discern God’s will. Being vulnerable is a necessary step in that process.”
“I understand, Father. But as vice-rector, you are also an authority at NAC. It’s difficult for me to get beyond that.”
“My son, how can we move forward if you are not honest with me?” Father asked.
“But I am honest with you. When we were asked to choose a spiritual director, we were told that we could select someone outside of the NAC faculty as long as it was approved. I have been happy to have you guide me until now, but I feel like it may be time to change.”
“I see. Do you think it’s wise to make a change of such great importance in the middle of the academic year? Perhaps we can discuss this in June.”
“I understand, Father. I will defer to your authority.”
“That seems a bit cold. I would like to know what you really think, Anthony.”
Anthony took a deep breath and looked away. He felt trapped and wasn’t sure if he should lie to save face.
“Father, my spiritual journey is the most significant component of my life. It should be a priority for each of us,” he said, building up his courage. “I honestly feel that I should make that change now, especially with candidacy coming up in three weeks. I hope you understand that it is not about respecting you less. It’s about finding a connection.”
There, he said it. He had acted with integrity and spoke the truth to an authority figure. It was in God’s hands now. “All right, Anthony. Father Garcia is highly respected among the faculty. I am certain that this will be approved. I just wish you had been more forthright with me.”
“Thank you, Father. There is still so much for me to learn here.” Anthony responded with a mixture of humility and irony.
“That you do, Anthony,” Father Connick replied.
***
Kevin and Anthony had noticed that Miguel was cagey about candidacy. While everyone else was getting swept up into the excitement, Miguel seemed distant. He wasn’t one to share his feelings, so they gave him space. However, they realized he was simply going through the motions. In actuality, Miguel was wrestling with this first official step toward the priesthood. He had just returned from the most amazing vacation with an incredible woman. Maria consumed his thoughts, both night and day.
They had spoken on the phone several times since their time together in Paris. However, it was difficult to talk candidly about their feelings. The phone was on a shelf in the center of the hallway. There was absolutely no privacy to be had.
Before being accepted into candidacy, each of the new men had to be interviewed by an ordained priest. These men were chosen from various Pontifical Universities and the Casa Santa Maria, the American house of graduate studies. The priest selected for each seminarian was a crapshoot. Miguel woke up the morning of his interview and dressed in his civilian clothes, a blue button-down shirt, and khakis. He gave himself a once over in the mirror and decided that he was presentable.
After the thirty-minute walk to the Angelicum, he entered the ante-room for his interview. Before his eyes was a sea of black – everyone else was in their clerical garb. They turned and looked at him with astonishment. How dare he wear his civvies? Rather than get upset, he smiled and said, “I guess I didn’t get the memo.” No one laughed.
There were three offices in which priests gave interviews, and they opened to a single waiting room. In one of the offices was the infamous Inquisitor. He was known to be a hardass. With beads of sweat dripping down their temples, the men coming from his office looked as if they had just been tortured. The seminarians sat anxiously, waiting for one of the doors to open. Most of the other men exited their interviews with smiles on their faces. However, when Miguel’s turn came, the entrance to the Inquisitor’s office opened. At first, he stalled to see if another interview might become available, but then realized he had no choice.
Father Inquisitor looked up from his desk and frowned. “This is how you dress?”
“Sorry, Father, I…”
“Sit down,” he interrupted, and with a thick German accent, he continued.
“Tell me the ten impediments to the priesthood?”
Miguel had no idea what he was asking.
Are there specific things that would prevent a man from becoming a priest? Is this in an official document that I’m supposed to have read?
“Well, I suppose marriage would be an impediment and maybe having sex.” Miguel stumbled through several more fabricated impediments before the Inquisitor slammed his hand on the desk.
“No, no. How can you expect to become a priest if you do not know the answer to such a simple question?” Miguel, usually never at a loss for words, sat there stunned.
“Come with me,” the Inquisitor demanded.
He walked out into the waiting area and knocked loudly on one of the office doors and opened it without waiting for a response. He had no qualms about interrupting the interview his colleague was conducting. Standing at the door with Miguel just behind him, the Inquisitor could be heard by everyone in the vicinity.
“Father, this young man cannot tell me the ten impediments to the priesthood. I cannot, in good conscience, recommend him for candidacy. He is completely unprepared.”
A hushed silence swept the room, and everyone’s eyes were locked on Miguel. He was shocked by his harsh treatment, which only served to alienate him more. The Inquisitor turned on his heels and flew back to his office – his cassock flapping like a cape in his wake. Miguel was a pillar of salt, frozen in his tracks. Knowing his colleague’s infamous reputation, the priest graciously dismissed the other seminarian and looked up at Miguel.
“What’s your name, my son?” he asked kindly.
“Miguel Perez.”
“Sit down, Miguel. Take a deep breath and calm yourself. Now, tell me why you want to be a priest.”
As his adrenaline subsided, Miguel was able to put his thoughts together. Still reeling from being publicly shamed, he wasn’t convinced that his answers were coherent. After a few minutes, the kindly priest shook his hand and told him he would be happy to recommend him for candidacy. Miguel left the room in a daze. He had to get away from his classmates and their judgmental stares. He needed to clear his head. A long walk along the Tiber would be perfect. He descended the stairs from the street level and strolled along the river’s edge. The coffee-colored water rushed angrily past – occasionally, bits of trash sailed by. Miguel felt the chill of the January winter through his coat as he relived the last few hours. Everything about his experience here was surreal.
How did it all go wrong? he wondered. Word got back to the seminary in a flash, and it had spread like wildfire. When Miguel entered the main doors of NAC, the vice-rector stood, waiting for him.
“Let’s have a chat, Miguel,” Father Connick said, motioning to a door nearby.
They entered the receiving room, and Connick closed the door behind him. “First of all, how could you think it was appropriate to dress this way for your interview?”
“I didn’t know there was a dress-code, Father. It is not a class day,” Miguel replied.
“You should have known better, but that’s the problem with you, Miguel, isn’t it? You don’t know better, or was this another attempt to make a statement about clerical attire?” His fierce attack shocked Miguel. Indeed, dressing in Khakis was not a mortal sin.
