Ulrike Murr

This testimony is taken from Zur Priesterin berufen (“Called to be a Women Priest”), ed. by Ida Raming, Gertrud Jansen, Iris Müller and Mechtilde Neuendorff, Druck und Verlagshaus Thaur (Krumerweg 9, A-6065 Thaur, Austria) 1998, pp. 205-213. Translation by John Wijngaards.

I am 29 years old and teach biology, chemistry and religious education. I would like to be a priest. Why? Not because I am fed up with my present job; not because I would like to demolish the last bulwarks still held by men; nor, finally, because I am trying to obtain a better social position or a post of power. I have another reason: I feel called to the priesthood.

I realise that the notion of vocation can be problematic. It may not be invoked lightly to ‘sanctify’ one’s own ideas or ideosyncracies. In the booklet ‘Ways to the priestly vocation’ (published by the diocesan centre for vocations in Munich) I read: “Vocation does not hit us like a bolt of lightning. Something begins to stir in me. The longing for a spiritual commitment emerges. I begin to imagine myself taking on such a commitment. Situations or people I come across either diminish or increase this idea in me. Because vocation often arises so gradually, so indirectly, it may be a problem to recognise it as God’s call.”

In the following account of my life and my vocation I can fully document that description. My own conviction that I have a priestly vocation has grown in that fashion.

Going to Church

My home did not stand out as fanatically Catholic. Though my parents, who were both scientists, subjected me and my two younger brothers to certain religious traditions (night prayer; Advent songs; major liturgical feasts), they rather kept their distance from the Church. Only when I had become nine, they insisted that I go to Mass on Sundays -- more than once under vehement protest on my side. Gradually I became used to the parish community, especially from the moment my brothers were accepted as Mass servers which, through their stories, afforded me some ‘look behind the curtains’. At that time girls were still banned from being Mass servers. When there was talk of allowing girls to serve Mass, my brothers made me promise that I would not muscle in on territory that had been theirs till then. So I never was a Mass server.

Going to Mass helped me to get to know other children. Usually we were all sitting together in the first pews and were happy to meet. I learnt to go to Church gladly and of my own accord. I was also gradually drawn into other parish activities. I must have been 12 when I assisted in preparing for children’s Bible week. I have good memories of my home parish. It was probably the most important factor in my spiritual growth, and also decisive in making me committed to the parish community, what I still am.

It was not the only factor. I loved religious education classes. I enjoyed reading the children’s Bible which my parents gave me for first communion. I started to read the ecumenical version from the first to the last page when I was 12 years old.

Prayer

Night prayer was important to me. Rather soon I abandoned the fixed formulations. I remember as yesterday how, when my dearly beloved grandfather died, I waited till the official night prayer had been said in the presence of my mother. Then I slipped secretly out of bed, knelt down and asked God from the bottom of my heart to bring my grandfather back to life.

During my puberty prayer took on an existential meaning for me. In school I was at the time somewhat an outsider because I did not join in the fashions that were ‘in’, such as in dress, make up, dance parties. I simply had no taste for them. Since I also endured at the time the usual conflicts with my parents, only prayer was left to me to give rein to the, often fierce, emotions that raged in me. Only later I discovered, perhaps in the context of the vigil at Maunday Thursday which meant much to me, that prayer can also consist in just letting yourself be in the presence of God, allowing Him to look at you.

My confirmation when I was 13 years old, started me on involvement in the youth apostolate of my home parish. I joined a youth group and functioned at times as assistant, for instance for children’s Bible weeks. When I was 17, I became leader of a group, then leader of the parish youth and instructor for confirmation. In our pastoral workers and curates who ran the youth apostolate, I met people whose personality made an impression on me. They helped me a lot to find my own identity. I noticed that I was not alone in my thoughts and reflections, whether religious or not, neither in my spiritual experiences, but that others shared these with me. That is how I experienced in a factual way that the Church is a community of believers -- a community that supports us and to which I owe much of what I am.

I felt attracted to various forms of religious life, such as retreats at home, pilgrimages for youth, prayer vigils. My first stay at Taizé was also important. Experiencing such a large community of young believers gave me a lot of encouragement and support, especially because involvement in the Church and my open Christian commitment had increased my status as an ‘outsider’ at school.

During my last years at school I gave a lot of attention to faith: in talks, in my own reflections, in my prayer, in reading Sacred Scripture, in mediations and during the liturgy. The more I got involved, and the more I wanted to integrate the various realities which kept me in their spell into my life. The subjects I chose for college: biology/chemistry on the one hand and theology on the other was the first step in this direction. Even now my students often ask me how can I combine scientific thinking with my faith. So came I to the conclusion that the ministerial priesthood would be for me the highest realisation of my deepest being.

Called to be a priest?

I can no longer reconstruct exactly when I first noticed in myself the longing to be a priest. Today, however, I am crystal clear in my conviction that I have been called and this for a number of reasons. To begin with, I consider my inner attraction to the priesthood a sign of my vocation. I believe profoundly that as a priest I could realise most fully what I have in me, that then I could be most perfectly the person I really am -- and this in a manner that goes beyond the general priesthood of all the baptised. Moreover, other people have confirmed my certainty that I am not pursuing a mere fancy when I see my road leading to the priesthood. They have contributed to my recognising my inner wish as a real vocation. Such ‘objective’ affirmations are significant and help us distinguish purely personal wishful thinking from a genuine vocation. Together these two factors agree well with the conditions of vocation mentioned in the booklet I quoted at the beginning of this essay.

Now a few remarks concerning the first characteristic I mentioned: I feel drawn to the priesthood with all the fibers of my existence. What attracts me most is that in this calling more than in any other, the whole being of the person testifies to (or is meant to testify to) what it proclaims. The harmony of word and deed expected in all Christians, reaches its climax in the celebration of the Eucharist when the words of consecration are spoken ‘in the person of Christ’. Since the imitation of Christ has been laid as a duty on all Christians, I cannot understand why only men would be able to speak ‘in the person of Christ’. I do not want to digress here on the theological discussion concerning the ordination of women. Many publications by prominent theologians show that the arguments against the ordination of women do not hold water.

There are various reasons why the Eucharist means so much to me. One of them I would like to highlight: In the Eucharist the Incarnation repeats itself every time again - God does not just face creation from the outside; he also enters creation ‘from below’, to enable his creation to return to its Creator. This process of salvation history runs parallel to evolution, a thought that plays a great role for me as scientist, for it proves that scientific and theological insights do not need to contradict each other. In as far as the Eucharist foreshadows the final salvation that will embrace the whole of created nature, evolution and salvation history flow together into her as into their final destination.

Especially in the Eucharist a reality becomes visible of crucial significance to me and which I would like to proclaim: that scientific-technical thought can be combined with our faith -- something that many of our contemporaries have not heard so far. I would like to give myself totally to this message. I also see in the priesthood a deep, existential link to the Eucharist.

Pastoral care for others

Next to these rather concise and probably rather theoretically sounding reflections, which have however profound meaning to me, stand other reasons why I feel so strongly drawn to the priesthood. It seems to me that this ministry responds in an ideal way to the gifts, skills and inclinations God has given me. I dare to say this on the strength of the experiences I have had both during my teaching and my voluntary involvement in parish apostolate. They all point in this direction. A Religious Brother once wrote to me: “You have the gift to make others feel at home in the Church!” The priestly ministry holds for me the promise of the profoundest potential of realising all God has laid in me. Surely, I can also use my charisms in other areas -- but I challenge anyone who reads these lines and has himself chosen for the priesthood, to examine himself as to why he preferred this path to any other.

While I am not all convinced that the priestly ministry needs to be linked to celibacy, I would probably myself choose a celibatory style of life. I know that God wants to have me in his service -- my certainty rests on a special event that happened to me that I am not free to disclose just now. What matters is that not being married for the sake of the Kingdom offers me another opportunity to dedicate myself with my whole existence to the Christian message, the ideal that motivates me.

The elements I mentioned so far express only part of how I see my vocation. Meetings with other people also confirmed me on my way. When, in some group we discussed a religious topic, a girl said quite spontaneously: “What a pity that you can’t be a priest!” The group had no idea that I felt attracted to the priesthood, but someone else then followed on with the question: “Would you want to be a priest if you could?” I answered “Yes, I would.” Perhaps they were impressed by the fact that individual people approached me with their problems and worries, and that this often led to deep and rich exchanges.

In my oral theological examination I was asked what I thought of the ordination of women. When I had presented a few arguments, the second examiner wanted to know whether I would offer myself for the priesthood, if that were possible. On my ‘Yes!’, he told me that he had already thought so. This short sentence touched something deep inside me, and I had difficulty controlling myself, knowing full well that it is not possible to be ordained a priest in the Catholic Church.

I have often spoken to pastoral workers, including priests, about this, and still do so. None of these doubted the genuineness of my vocation, -- if one leaves aside the opinion that God does not call people who are banned from the priesthood by the Church. Two pastoral workers who had personally strongly rejected the ordination of women, told me during our talk that they would give further thought to their own position on this matter. I often encountered this kind of reasoning: “It is a pity that you cannot become a priest. You would make a good priest. However, since the Vatican authorities are so much opposed to introducing the ordination of women, you can write it off, for at least some decades. You have to come to terms with this and look for another direction in your life.” In talks with my colleagues, friends and acquaintenances however I meet a lot of agreement with my conviction -- They say they could easily see a priest in me.

Rejection by Vatican Church leaders

The latest Vatican statements upset me therefore all the more. I feel deeply hurt and not taken seriously as a person, when the discussion about the priesthood of women is just scuppered through a dictate of power (see the apostolic letter ‘Ordinatio Sacerdotalis’). After all, I experience my vocation as genuine and I am sure it would rather easily be acknowledged as such if I had been a man.

In the booklet ‘Ways to the priestly vocation’ which I have already quoted before, the Cardinal says in his introduction: “The vocation to the priestly ministry is so precious that we never devote enough attention to it.” I consider myself as someone who carries a precious gift - my vocation. This gift is meant for the Church to which I owe so much, including a share of my faith and which I serve in spite of so much criticism. But I am rejected as a spurned lover. No worse: through ‘Ordinatio Sacerdotalis’ the door is slammed into my face and bolted from the inside. Just read the reply of the Congregation for Doctrine regarding doubts on the doctrine contained in ‘Ordinatio Sacerdotalis’!

From now I would need to believe it to be part of faith that the Church does not have the power to ordain women. Should I now, by definition, conclude from this that my vocation cannot be genuine?! If only I were a man, the Church would shower on my vocation a high degree of ‘attention and care’ (see above). Just because I am a woman, I am left standing outside with my gift, a gift meant for the Church.

Of course, I can also involve myself in other apostolate than the priestly ministry and -- God willing -- achieve something. Of course, I can try to realise the general priesthood of all the baptized. But the ministerial priesthood has unique potential for existential witness to the truths of faith, especially also to the mystery of the Eucharist.

Thanks to my inborn optimism I am firmly convinced that truth will win in the end -- also the truth that there are women who are called to be priests and may therefore not be deprived of priestly ordination. I do not know when the time will be ripe for this; perhaps I will not see it happen. But if ever the moment arrives, I want to be prepared to take on my priestly ministry. This makes me live in expectation, a time of extemporising. To stick to my image, I remain patiently standing at the door. Now and then I want to knock, to remind the Church of myself and my vocation. That is why I have written these lines.

Waiting requires a lot of patience and strength. At times I feel overwhelmed by sadness -- and yet I am faithful to the Church, even though it does not want to accept my gift. In my profession and in my voluntary work for the Church I experience much that saves me from despair - despair would sap all my energy. Moreover, the power of the Good News overcomes all sadness, and so, in spite of everything I am a happy person. How gladly I would, as a priest, pass on to our world the joy of the Gospel that makes me happy!

Ulrike Murr, 1998

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