On the Feast of St. Ignatius - A Vocation Story

Blogging is funny. Sometimes you just happen upon a story that seems interesting to you that you'd like to share. This morning I was looking at my statcounter and found a large number of hits from people googling "Fr. Michael Taylor." Now, my diocese has a Fr. Taylor and I blogged awhile back about an altar girl flap when he decided to retire the girls and steer them in another direction. Needless to say, he incensed some of the feminists in the parish. 

However, I suspect from at least some of the googlers that they were not looking for our Fr. Taylor but for a newly ordained Fr. Michael Taylor in the diocese of Albany. (Gosh, I though Bishop Hubbard had totally killed vocations there, but apparently he still gets a few.) 

Anyway, Fr. Taylor's vocation story was carried in the diocesan paper and it intrigued me since he's a convert and originally thought that Catholics "were so weird that I was just curious."  Here's what the paper included about him:

(REV.) MICHAEL TAYLOR 

The first time Deacon Michael Taylor set foot in a Catholic church was to research a role for his high school musical. He's come a long way: This weekend, he'll be ordained a priest for the Albany Diocese.
Catholicism was considered cultish in his hometown of Warner Robins, Ga., which had 75,000 people and only one Catholic parish. Deacon Taylor, cast as a priest in the school play, was messing up his role - so he drove to a church seeking education.
He went to another town to keep from being spotted. Entering during a liturgy, he was immediately puzzled by the "swinging ball of smoke" (incense), the cross "with a guy on [it]" and Mass-goers' constant "interrupting" with prayer responses. As for the missal, it "might as well have been in Chinese," he remembered.

He mirrored the people in the pews as they sat, stood and kneeled. Then it was time for the Eucharist.

"This priest was all about this piece of bread," said Deacon Taylor. He was familiar with the concept of communion, but "I couldn't figure out why this priest thought it was so important." 

Sense of humor
The visit sparked something. "Catholics were so weird that I was just curious. I joke with people that my conversion was an intellectual exercise that got out of hand."
As the 28-year-old (whose real first name is James) looked toward his priestly ordination, he remarked that "looking back on it now, I kind of realize God's chuckling on multiple levels."
Deacon Taylor grew up in a military town. He and his brother attended Sunday school and worship services at Methodist, Pentecostal Church of God and non-denominational churches.

"I probably visited every denomination except for Catholic," he told The Evangelist.

His mother was the heart of the family's faith: "She'd give us a quarter for every Bible verse memorized," he said. One summer, he earned $15.
But when Deacon Taylor was a high school junior, his mother lost her battle with breast cancer. It caused a "crisis of faith" for the teenager.
"I couldn't understand where God was in all of this," he said. "I was in a fog for months. I just started positing God as this foreign concept [and] just kind of succumbed to the numbness of that time."
His parents had also divorced a few years earlier, causing a tense relationship between Deacon Taylor and his father. The teen lived with a friend his senior year of high school, before entering the University of Georgia and enrolling in the Army ROTC program.

After his peek at a Catholic church, he delved into the Catechism of the Catholic Church, Church history and other books about the faith. As a college freshman, he entered a Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults program for people interested in converting.
Despite discouragement from family and a social stigma in the South against his decision, he became Catholic in 2003. Deacon Taylor found solace in his campus' Newman Center; he even studied ancient Greek to better understand the Bible and led a Bible study group.
"It meant something to say ['I'm] Catholic,'" Deacon Taylor said.

"It was almost like you knew what you were about. Finally being able to receive the Eucharist was awesome."
By his junior year, Deacon Taylor had a life plan. He had received a two-year Army scholarship and would be commissioned for four years of active and four years of reserve service. He planned to earn his political science degree and maybe attend law school after his military service. He was thinking of proposing to his girlfriend.

But the idea of ministry - something he had pondered in high school - returned to his mind.

Vocation spark
"There was something there, but I just ignored it for a while," he remembered. Close friends and even his girlfriend started telling him he'd make a good priest. The Newman Center chaplain seemed to sense his vocation, too.
Deacon Taylor started attending vocations retreats. He felt angry at God for interfering with his plans, but came to realize that "He was just asking me to follow Him, one step at a time."
At one of the retreats, he met Rev. James Walsh of the Vocations Team for the Albany Diocese. Deacon Taylor dated his girlfriend until the end of his junior year ("I felt like I was cheating on her when I was at church"), then interned as a military chaplain and applied to be a priest of the Albany Diocese before his senior year, getting a service delay.

Albany "felt like the place God was calling me to," he explained, pointing out that there's a town named Albany in Georgia, as well.
Deacon Taylor was commissioned as a second lieutenant and a seminarian at Mundelein Seminary at the University of Saint Mary of the Lake in Mundelein, Ill., after graduation.
It was the year before news of the U.S. clergy sexual abuse scandal broke.

"You learn that the frailties of the human condition exist even in the priesthood," the future priest said. "There's something greater to Catholicism than its members. For some reason, I was able to see, 'This [crisis] isn't the faith.'"
Deacon Taylor believes that men of his generation will continue to enter the priesthood because it's now seen as counter-cultural.

"There's just something about Catholics that drives people insane," he said. "I want people to encounter Christ. I think we want to believe in a truth beyond ourselves."
As he studied for the priesthood, Deacon Taylor served at parishes in Illinois and South Carolina and at St. Peter's parish in Saratoga, Blessed Sacrament in Albany, St. Jude's in Wynantskill and, for a year, at Corpus Christi parish in Round Lake. In his spare time, he enjoys running and playing bluegrass and country music on his guitar.

After his ordination, Deacon Taylor will serve as a parish priest for two years before turning to military service. He looks forward to celebrating Mass and hearing confessions.
He has repaired the relationship with his father; his brother is engaged to a Catholic girl. Deacon Taylor noted that he's openly accepted his own celibacy and singlehood: "I'm so grateful for what [God has] done, He can ask me to do anything."

It's good to know that men are still responding to Christ's call despite the dismal state of the faith in the U.S. It's like babies. God still sends them to our culture of death, so He obviously hasn't given up on us yet. But then God is always faithful to his promises. We're the ones who turn our backs on Him.

St. Ignatius, on your feast day, please intercede for all the newly ordained priests. May they become sparks that ignite the fire of restoration in Holy Mother Church.