Celibacy and Fatherhood can go together

Oct 2 2007 by Emma Pinch, Liverpool Daily Post

The number of men becoming priests is growing again. Emma Pinch talks to one young student who has answered the call

PUT it down to new-found freedoms, people and places – and cut-price drinks at the union bar. Waking up with a throbbing head and a dry mouth, and an unfamiliar person next to you is a side of student life that might not make it into the bulletins home very often – but is ubiquitous the world over.

It’s a side that Liam Collister, from Anfield, can confidently predict he won’t have the dubious pleasure of experiencing.

Liam, 24, is one of 17 trainee priests on a degree course at a Catholic seminary in Durham, and this month he starts his second year.

His decision might seem an unusual one in a century when most young adults of his age are embracing three years of study-punctuated hedonism.

But actually the numbers of young men applying for the priesthood has seen a mini-boom in the past four years, despite the 7am starts and, of course, the celibacy.

Liam, a pub-going music fan, admits that his decision has meant a battle against natural instincts.

“It’s hard to do because I’m still young and still 24. In a ‘normal’ Uni, who knows what might happen, especially in Freshers’ Week?” he says.

“At the moment, I’m quite happy being celibate – and one day, I hope I’ll be ordained.”

Born to an Irish Catholic mother and an Anglican father, Liam had been an altar server at All Saints in Garston as a boy, but never directed towards the priesthood by his family. Indeed, his mother took some winning over when he made his decision in his early 20s.

“I wasn’t a Holy Joe,” he smiles. “I was a skater and used to dye my hair different colours, and wear baggy jeans and hoodies. I was into rock groups like Green Day and Sum 41 and we would go into town and into clubs in Concert Square and down Mathew Street to Flanagans, Edwards and Crazy House. We would get drunk and come home,” he adds. “I was a normal lad, and I did things everyone does.”

As an altar server, Liam cherished dreams of being centre stage at Mass, doing the things the priest did. Then, when his friends ticked off their top university choices, the thought occurred to him again that a seminary would be his institution of further education. But, from the moment he did, the urge was one he could not ignore.

His prayer life developed gradually, throughout his job at a care home and then a nursing degree started at Hope University, culminating in his application to St Cuthbert’s Seminary.

“I used to go to Mass at the weekend and I’d pray if I couldn’t get to sleep,” he says. “Then at 20 or 21, I actually started praying a lot, on the bus and on the way to work and so on, in silent medit- ation. While I was at Edge Hill, something in me said ‘Go for it now, try’.”

Liam is expected to remain celibate throughout his six-year course in preparation for ordination at the end.

“I had a relationship before I entered the seminary, so it’s not as if I’ve gone in with blinkers on. I have lived life and I know what’s on the other side,” he says.

“It’s been a struggle for me. What has worked for me is, seeing everyone as being family, that is, in a non-sexual way.”

His social life with his friends remains the same, with some self-disciplined tweaks.

“When I go out with friends to pubs and clubs, I don’t go on the pull,” he says. “ If a girl comes up I will talk to her, but if I think it’s getting a bit too flirty I will say I’m not actually on the market. It doesn’t happen that often, though.

“My friends have never turned round and said ‘You’re making a mistake’. I laugh and joke with them about being celibate. One of my friends is engaged and if he looks round in the pub, I’ll say ‘You can’t look, you’re engaged’, and he’ll say ‘Well, why are you looking?’ I’ll say, ‘Well, I can look as long as it doesn’t go any further.’

“It’s good to have that sort of banter.”

While he is content being celib- ate, he admits he doesn’t know how strong the urge to have a family will become in the future.

It was the “family thing” which had caused his mother anxiety when he initially announced his decision to train as a priest.

“It’s a dilemma everyone has probably come across,” he says. “It is a natural instinct to have kids, and it’s difficult knowing if you do go forward and become a priest you won’t have a wife or children.

“But I was once told if you can’t imagine yourself as a father and having kids, you shouldn’t think about becoming a priest.”

Set in fields four miles from the centre of Durham, St Cuthbert’s is an impressive place.

“It is a bit like Hogwarts,” he says. “It’s a huge old building with 16 to 17 students rattling round in it, and the staff take the total number up to 30.”

The small community is both a blessing and a curse. “On Saturdays sometimes, you can spend a whole day walking around and not see a single person,” he says. “Then you need space sometimes, and it’s difficult to get it.

“I have had arguments with people, like you do when you are living with people, day in, day out, and especially when there’s a community which is already established.”

Liam’s day begins at 7.30am for morning prayer, Monday to Friday, with mass at 7.45 every day except Wednesday and afternoons on placement. He has a bedroom and a study room, customised with photographs of his family and Liverpool, and kitted out with computer, stereo and DVD player. The bar is open from 8.30pm on Wednesday and Sunday.

“The best part is the companionship,” he says. “I’ve made some really, really good friends and even over the summer holidays we’ve been texting.

“We had a St Patrick’s Night and that was fantastic. It’s those things and to know that there’s other people who are going through the same thing – the course, celibacy and even just griping about essays.”

A growing interest in spirituality >>>