A Vocational Primer

Making Sense of the Church's Teaching on Vocations and the Single Life

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Happy Friday, friends! Yes, Chris, the kids, and I are still in Italy, but I didn’t want to leave you without a little reading material for your week.

As some of you may or may not remember, a few weeks ago there was a little dustup on the Internet about a certain commencement speech. In the midst of that dustup, I noticed quite a few people arguing about the meaning of vocation. I think a common insult thrown about was “Clearly you don’t understand the difference between a vocation and a career.” To which, in my head, I always replied, “Clearly you don’t understand the meaning of vocation.” I know, not kind of me. But at least I kept it as as an inside thought.

Anyhow, that led me to think that maybe one thing I could share with you was some writing I’ve done on the nature and types of vocations. Then, two weeks ago, right before we left for our pilgrimage, I did a Q&A on Instagram to solicit questions for this newsletter. One of the questions was this:

“What do you say to Catholic who say the only vocations are to marriage and religious life. I want to be married, but it hasn’t happened yet. Does this mean I’m not living my vocation?”

That confirmed my plan. So, this week, for your reading enjoyment, I’m answering that reader’s question (and attempting to clear up some of the obvious confusion on the Internet about the meaning of vocations), by sharing a whole entire book chapter with you. It’s the first chapter from my book, The Catholic Girl’s Survival Guide to the Single Years. I wrote it 12 years ago, when I was still single, so disregard all mentions of me as a single woman. The data in the chapter is also a bit old. Unfortunately, the trends haven’t reversed themselves since I first wrote this, so the overall point of the data holds.

Also, gentlemen and married people, even though the book was for single women, I promise this chapter is relevant for everyone. As a Church, we often don’t know what to do, think, or say to the single people in our midst. We fail them often. I’m hoping this chapter helps a bit with that, in addition to giving a much clearer understanding of vocations then many currently circling about on the Internet.

So, with that preface, I hope this chapter proves helpful. Chris and I are praying for so many of you as we travel, and we would very much appreciate your prayers as well. I won’t be checking comments, but if you have questions, I’ll try to respond once we return.

P.S. This newsletter is free for everyone, but only because someone else believes in the importance of supporting faithful Catholic writing that goes beyond soundbites. The support of full subscribers to these newsletter is what keeps them coming, even when I’m traveling with many small children, so if you haven’t already, please consider upgrading to a full subscription today.

Vocations and the Single Life:

An excerpt from The Catholic Girl’s Survival Guide to the Single Years

As I said, first things first. Before we dive into dating, men, and other disasters, there are a few important questions we need to settle—questions like…What the heck is going on here? Why are we still single? And why do people keep calling it a vocation?

Let’s start with what we’re doing, something which in common parlance is currently called “The Single Life.”

The good news about what we’re doing (in one way) is that we’re not doing it alone. Single is the new black.

According to the most recent data from the U.S. Census Bureau, a grand total of 96 million unmarried people now live in the United States. That’s 43 percent of adults over the age of 18. Many of those folks are divorced (24 percent). Some are widowed (15 percent). But the bulk (61 percent) have never walked down the aisle.[1]

When it comes to Catholics specifically, the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate reports that 6.9 million Catholic men and 6.1. million Catholic women have never been married. That’s a lot of unmarried Catholics. And with the number of Catholic marriages dropping every year, the number of Catholic singles doesn’t seem likely to fall anytime soon.[2]

Again, we’re not in this alone. There are lots of others in the same boat as us. And as long as you set aside the long-term consequences of population implosion, widespread loneliness and depression, children growing up in unstable homes, aging adults with no family to care for them, the rampant sexual immorality common among most singles, and the breakdown of civil society as we know it, that’s the good news.

So, what’s the bad news?

The bad news is that nobody really knows what the heck we’re doing. We’re sailing in uncharted waters.

 Never before in history have quite so many people delayed marriage quite so late into adulthood. Some delay by choice. Others by chance. Nonetheless, marriage is delayed for a whole lot of us.

And that’s not normal.

Stay your protests. I hear them. How, does the single life qualify in any way as “uncharted”? After all, haven’t people lived the single life since time immemorial?

The answer is yes…and no.

The Single Life Through the Ages

Virgin Martyrs and Spinster Aunts

For however many years the Earth has danced around the sun, there have, of course, been men and women who, for various reasons, never married. There were unwedded individuals. They were, however, few in number, they didn’t call themselves “singles,” and the lifestyle they lived bore no resemblance to the lifestyle we call “The Single Life.”

In fact, until Christianity came around, the unmarried state was generally considered an aberration, a fate to be avoided at any cost, especially for women. Sure, you had the occasional celibates like the Essenes at Qumran. But the general public thought those folks a bit odd. The thing to do, culture after culture insisted, was to marry and marry young.

Then, along came Jesus. That changed things.

Before you could say “Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians,” all sorts of men and women were throwing themselves into the lion’s jaws rather than the marriage bed. They took the apostle’s endorsement of singleness seriously and were convinced that if they wanted to be good Christians, they needed to eschew marital love.

They also, however, thought Jesus would materialize on the horizon any day.

As soon as Christians realized that the eschaton might be somewhat less imminent, the situation stabilized. Lots of nice Catholic girls and boys decided that they didn’t have to choose between marriage and death. Virginity wasn’t their only option.

Some Christians, of course, still chose virginity or celibacy. They took holy orders or headed off to the convent, vowing the whole of their lives, body and soul, to Christ. A precious few also chose to make those vows but live them outside the monastery’s walls. They lived at home (ala Saint Catherine of Siena) or walled themselves up in little buildings attached to churches (think of anchoresses such as Saint Julian of Norwich). Some also headed off to the desert (Anthony of Egypt) or built hermitages in the mountains of France (Saint Emilion).

And everyone who didn’t become a priest, enter the convent, or set up house in a cave?

Well, as before, they got married.

Again, there were exceptions. There were spinster aunts and bachelor uncles. There were sweet old maids who cherished the memory of The One That Got Away, and there were funny old men who ran from women like mice from cats.

But they weren’t the norm.

Now they are. Now we are. 

Commitment-Phobes, Cohabitators, and Christians

Few of us, however, bear a close resemblance to those spinster aunts and bachelor uncles of old.

We’re not, for example, living quietly at home with our parents or being shuffled between much put upon nieces and nephews. Us women folk actually get to do things like go to school, hold a profession, and read books without causing undue scandal. We’re not treated like children well into our dotage. All of which is to the good.

Other elements of today’s single life are less to the good.

Generally speaking (which I know is somewhat dangerous but necessary nonetheless), unmarried individuals today can be subdivided into two categories.

First, there’s the single majority. These folks live their single life according to the dictates of the media and culture, taking their cues from episodes of Jersey Shore or How I Met Your Mother. Which is to say, that to them being single does not necessitate chastity. Almost the opposite, in fact.

Sociologists and statisticians tell us that members of this group typically have their first sexual encounter sometime in high school, then engage in a half dozen or more intense, intimate, and exclusive relationships with members of the opposite sex throughout their teens and twenties. By their early twenties, at least a quarter of these singles are living with one of those partners. Sometimes those relationships culminate in marriage. Most of the time they don’t. Couples break up, move on, and eventually move in with other sexual partners. And the cycle continues, sexual license resulting from, as much as it leads to, enduring singleness.[3]

That’s one category. The other category is us, the minority—nice Christian girls (and boys), some perhaps who made mistakes in the past, but who nonetheless are determined not to make those mistakes again. We’re not sleeping around. We’re not sleeping with anyone. And we’re certainly not shacking up with anyone. But we’re also not getting married.

We would like to. We’d really like to. But it’s not happening. We date. We sign up for Catholic Match. We go to speed dating nights at our parish. But that right person never comes along. Or if he does, something’s wrong. He can’t commit. He can’t decide. He’s still discerning his vocation. You know the excuses. They’re a little different from the excuses the general population gives, but the end result is the same. And it doesn’t involve a wedding ring.

The two categories aren’t, of course, entirely separate. Sin and grace mean some folks move out of one category and into another. When the move is from the unchaste majority into the chaste minority, those doing the moving usually bring a whole lot of baggage with them. Guilt, broken hearts, wounds from habitual sin and past relationships—that all takes its toll, and often gets in the way of a person entering into a healthy and committed relationship (or the priesthood or consecrated life, if that’s where they’re supposed to end up).

There also, unfortunately, are quite a few moves in the opposite direction. Chastity is hard. Finding a good Christian boy or girl is hard. Living the Christian life is hard. Temptation is indeed tempting. So people fall. And the number of eligible potential spouses for the minority grows smaller still.

For all those reasons and more, women like you and me find ourselves reluctantly single later—maybe much later—than we’d like. It’s not how we would have charted things out. And the Church understands that. She feels for us.

But she’s not quite sure what to do with us.

The Single Vocation?

One response opted for by many priests, some bishops, and lots of well-intentioned married folks, is to try to console unwedded Catholics by singing the praises of the single vocation. They talk about all the good single people can do, all the different ways we can make gifts of ourselves, and all the opportunities open to us because of our singleness.

They mean well.  But all that talk brings little consolation. For most, it doesn’t ring true. That may have something to do with the fact that even the people using the term “single vocation” don’t always know what it means. It’s a term they’ve pulled from their Catholic lexicon without ever stopping to consider its definition. Others use it imprecisely. They don’t clarify the term in context.

Both problems stem from the fact that the whole idea of the unconsecrated single life as a vocation is rather a novelty…at least in the sense that well-meaning Catholics use the term today, as something akin to the vocation of marriage or holy orders. In fact, it’s not mentioned anywhere in magisterial teaching. Not in any encyclicals. Not in any apostolic exhortations. And not in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

The Church, not surprisingly, has acknowledged that single people exist. It would be rather hard to ignore that fact. We even get a shout out in Paragraph 1658 of the Catechism. That, however, is the section dealing with the vocation of marriage, and the paragraph basically tells pastors and married couples to remember us and take pity on us. It doesn’t equate the unconsecrated single state in life with a vocation akin to marriage. And that’s for good reason.

A Vocational Primer

Before we go any further, let’s make sure we’re not likewise throwing our terms around willy nilly. When the Church talks about the word “vocation,” what does she mean?

Sometimes, she means the journey or the path we’re on—the journey to holiness. To holiness, God calls you, me, and every member of the human race. That’s why this path is what’s commonly referred to as the “universal vocation.”

As the Catechism tells us, God created us to live in loving union with Him for all eternity. A nuptial relationship with Him is what we’re meant for, what we were made for. So our vocation, our job, in this life, is to get where we’re meant to go. Since holiness consists of being in a state of grace, and grace is mostly a God thing, the bulk of the work on this journey is done by God Himself. Which is bully for us. We simply have to receive the grace God offers and do our best to make a gift of ourselves, in love, to Him and others.

That’s one meaning of vocation—the path we’re on. The other is what we do on the path. That’s our secondary vocation. It encompasses our nine to five occupations (butchers, bakers, candlestick makers), plus our various apostolic activities (singing in the Church choir, volunteering at the local crisis pregnancy clinic, bringing meals to shut-ins). It also can encompass the bearing of certain trials or situations in life. Think of people with serious or chronic illness who are often referred to as having a “vocation to suffering.” That’s a secondary vocation. It’s something you do (or endure) that helps you in the journey to holiness.

There is, of course, one more meaning to the word “vocation,” and it has to do with how, as adults, we travel down the path to God. That “how” is called our “primary vocation.” Traditionally, the Church has identified three of these: Holy Orders, Marriage, and Consecrated Life. Holy Orders can mean the deaconate, but most commonly it just means the priesthood and episcopacy. Marriage means, well, marriage, the permanent union of one man and one woman. And consecrated life is the catchall phrase that applies to religious brothers and sisters, as well as lay people, like Opus Dei numeraries, who consecrate themselves to the Lord’s service.

Each of those primary vocations is defined by the gift of self. The priest gives himself to Christ’s Church. Married persons give themselves to a husband or wife. And consecrated persons give themselves directly to God: They start living now, the relationship we’re all called to live in eternity.

In the case of each primary vocation, that gift of self is not a transitory or temporary thing. It’s not given one day and taken back the next. Rather, the central relationship of each is spousal. It’s exclusive, total, and enduring. When the gift of self is made to God, enduring is a “for all eternity” kind of enduring. When the gift of self is made to another person, it’s just an “until death to us part” kind of enduring. Nevertheless, the idea is the same: You fully and freely give yourself to another, and through that giving you pursue your universal vocation, holiness.

You also could say that through one spousal relationship you prepare yourself for another spousal relationship, the spousal relationship God calls you to enter into with himself. When considered in that light, a primary vocation isn’t just “how” you journey to holiness. It’s with whom you make the journey.

As for figuring out who your companion will be on the path to holiness—the Church, another person, or God himself—well, that’s a question for prayer. But spiritual directors and those charged with helping people discern their vocation have long abided by the principle that if you have a strong and lasting desire for a certain vocation, a desire that’s held up through years of prayer and discernment, you’re most likely called to that vocation. That’s because the primary vocation to which God calls you is the vocation He made you to desire. It’s the vocation that helps you be more you, more the person God made you to be.          

A Faux Vocation?

So where in all that does the much talked about “single vocation” fit? Is it even a real vocation at all?

That depends on what you mean by vocation.

If you’re asking if it can be considered part of one’s secondary vocation, then most definitely “yes.” Singleness can very much be a cross, a source of struggles and suffering offered up to God as you journey towards Him. It’s also an opportunity, however short or long-lived, to serve God and others in a unique way. It’s definitely something you do on the path towards holiness.

But is unconsecrated singleness a primary vocation? In some Catholic circles, the jury is still out on that. But it’s hard to see how the answer can be anything other than “no.”

Remember, primary vocations are exclusive and enduring. Once you give yourself to another—God, the Church, a husband or wife—you can’t give yourself to anyone else. Ever. Or, at least not without the intervention of death or a tribunal.

Yet that’s not the case for unconsecrated singlehood. It’s a state in life that’s generally transitory and always, at least technically, easy to exit. In other words, you don’t have to get a tribunal’s permission to cease being single. You are supposed to cease being single. You are supposed to enter into a spousal relationship with someone—the Church, God, or another person. You were made for a spousal relationship, not just in eternity, but also in time. And your spousal relationship in time prepares you for your spousal relationship in eternity. It’s what helps you complete the journey to holiness.

The Missed Vocation

In theory, this makes sense. In reality it gets a bit sticky. After all, what about all the people who never marry? What about all the men and women who wait for a spouse only to wait in vain? Or what about those who don’t feel called to marriage, the priesthood or a religious order? What about them? Surely they have a single vocation? Or did they get left out when vocational assignments were being dispensed?

These are some of the questions raised by those who believe the single vocation can be a primary vocation. They’re good questions. People of good faith disagree on the answers. But those who use those questions to advocate for the idea of a primary vocation to the single life seem to forget a couple things.

First, some seem to forget that for those who don’t feel called to marriage, the priesthood, or a religious order, there is another option: consecrated singlehood. Consecrated singles live the consecrated vocation in the world, either as part of a community of other consecrated individuals or alone, having made private vows to their bishop. You don’t have to live in a monastery in order to give yourself to God. It’s the norm, but it’s not a prerequisite. In the end, it doesn’t matter where one lives the consecrated vocation. What matters is the decision to give one’s self exclusively and enduringly to God, to consecrate one’s self entirely and forever to His service.

Along with forgetting about consecrated singlehood, some folks also seem to forget that, unfortunately, there is such a thing as a missed vocation, a vocation that should have been but wasn’t.

Everybody has a vocation. But not everyone will necessarily enter into the vocation to which God calls them. Sometimes this happens because of illness or accident—because of the tragic realities of life in a fallen world. These days, more often than not, it happens because of the misuse of that thing called free will.

Consider, for example, the vocation of marriage.

As He does with all His human creations, God, in his wisdom and love, gave those of us called to the vocation of marriage the ability to choose for ourselves what we do, think, and believe. He made us autonomous creatures, not puppets or slaves. Which means He won’t drag us kicking and screaming into anything, vocation or otherwise. That’s a good thing. Unfortunately, not all of us use our free will to do good things. Some actually use it to do quite bad things. Terrible mistakes are made and lasting wounds incurred, wounds that at times render the bearers incapable of giving (or reluctant to give) themselves in marriage.

The result of that is one person, and potentially two, unable to pursue the vocation to which they’re called.

It’s rotten. But it happens.

The Living Dead and the Walking Wounded

This phenomenon of missed vocations happened en masse a century ago when the Powers That Be in Europe used their free wills to get drawn into a hornet’s nest of political entanglements and territorial squabbles that culminated in World War I. That in turn wiped out almost a generation of young men in England, France, Germany, and Belgium. Millions of men died, and millions of young women, most of whom had authentic vocations to marriage, were left without men to marry. And that was through no fault of their own. Their fiancés and potential fiancés had perished in the trenches of Verdun and Ypres.

Today, a different kind of war, a culture war, seems to have left large numbers of Christians in the same position.

Remember that first category of singles we talked about? They’re the culture war’s fatally or near fatally wounded. The sexual revolution, divorce, the breakdown of the family, abortion, contraception, pornography, cohabitation, even serial dating—all those things and more have spiritually wounded men and women in our world as seriously as mustard gas physically wounded England’s soldiers in 1917. Fiancés and potential fiancés have again been crippled, in spirit if not in fact.

Because of that, some people never will enter the primary vocation for which they were made, the vocation that reflects the deepest desires of their heart. Others among us will find our vocation late, either because we need to heal or because we need to wait for our future spouse to heal. That means some of us won’t necessarily get the big Catholic family of our dreams. We might not get any children at all.

That’s the tragic reality with which we have to come to terms. It might not be your reality or mine. A husband might be waiting around the corner for you as soon as you finish this chapter. But it will be some people’s reality. It will possibly be someone you love’s reality. And glossing over that reality by pretending the unconsecrated single life is a vocation just like marriage isn’t helpful. It gives men and women who are avoiding God’s call to marriage, the priesthood, or consecrated life an excuse to not answer that call. And those of us who truly believe we’re called to marriage won’t find lasting consolation in the idea. It doesn’t make sense to us why everyone else gets called to a vocation that is the fulfillment of their heart’s desires, while we’re indefinitely stuck with a vocation of which we want no part. 

***

I’m afraid all this talk about missed vocations and the walking wounded has been more than a little depressing. Sorry about that. Had to be done though. In order to keep our sanity about us, we need to understand what the heck is going on in our lives and see some of the reasons why.

But we mustn’t dwell. We need to remain hopeful. We need to pray that God will send us a spouse. And we need to pursue the oceans of grace God provides to help us discover and overcome whatever wounds might be hampering our own ability to enter into a spousal relationship.

In other words, we mustn’t label ourselves as a missed vocation just yet. It’s not over until it’s over, for anyone.

Above all, however, we need to strive to see our single years, for as long as they last, as an integral part of our secondary vocation. Husband or no husband, we’re all on that journey towards holiness, and whether we’re single until we’re 25, 35, or 65, the lack of a spouse does indeed afford us the opportunity to do certain things along the path that marriage, the priesthood, and consecrated life might not. Offering up loads of heartache is one thing. But it’s not the only thing.

So take heart. Be of good cheer. And know that just because you’re sailing in uncharted waters doesn’t mean you’re predestined to capsize. God is there. Grace is there. Even when no one and nothing else is. He’s quite lovely like that.

Thanks for reading along! If you liked this essay, and want to read the whole book, you can find it here.

Also, can I ask you a favor? With me traveling and off social media for most of the summer, I could really use your help spreading the word about this newsletter. Your shares on social media and emails to friends are so appreciated! Thank you!

In Case You Missed It

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“The Heresies of the Manosphere, Part 2 (Print) (Audio) (Free for All Subscribers)

IVF: Questions & Answers (Free for all Subscribers)

On Obedience and Freedom (Full Subscribers Only)

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[1] “Single? You’re Not Alone”, CNN.com, August 19, 2010. Available at http://articles.cnn.com/2010-08-19/living/single.in.america_1_single-fathers-single-mothers-single-parents?_s=PM:LIVING

[2] “Catholic Singles Feel Angst”, The Washington Times, Nov. 20, 2008. Available at http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2008/nov/20/keeping-faith-in-dating/

[3] See for example “Facts on American Teens Sexual and Reproductive Health” compiled by the Guttmacher Institute and published in January 2011. Available at http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/FB-ATSRH.html.