Photo provided by Rev. Zachary Rathke, far left, with Holy Cross men in formation.
A reflection on discernment.
When it comes to discernment, the Virgin Mary had an advantage over the average person. According to the Gospel of Luke, the Archangel Gabriel literally came to visit her and announce her vocation to become the Mother of our Lord. Mary did not understand the details of the challenges she would face in her vocation, nor the sorrows and the joys she would encounter along the way. Yet, one thing was certain: she was called to become the Mother of our Lord.
Discernment is not so clear for the rest of us. There is normally no angel that comes to announce our vocation nor a mysterious voice that calls us from the heavens. Indeed, we must be cautious unless we mistake our own imagination and desires for the will of God.
How, then, are we to know the vocation that God calls us to? There are many methods of discernment that one can find, but I would simply like to share my own experience as an example of how God might reveal His will to someone.
Through my teen years and the first half of my twenties, I had two driving desires: to become a professor of philosophy of religion and to get married. I could not imagine myself doing much else, and I sincerely felt that God was calling me to both vocations. After completing my undergraduate degree and then teaching grade school for three years, I returned for my master’s degree in philosophy of religion. I thought I was truly beginning to realize God’s call for my life. All the while, I was on the lookout for that second desire: to find the perfect person to give my heart to in marriage.
My master’s degree took my study of philosophy to a whole new level. I found myself spending ten hours a day reading dense books and writing overly abstract papers, and I quickly found the life sucked out of me. I watched my professors doing the same — on top of all their teaching, they ran an endless marathon of research and publishing to keep up with the relentless pace of modern academia. It made me ask: Is this really what God wants for my life? It was a scary question for me. For so many years, I had a pretty clear vision for my life, and yet suddenly I felt blind about my future.
I did the one thing that I thought would work: I got down on my knees every night and prayed the rosary from the depths of my heart. I begged God that I might come to know His will for my life just as Mary came to know her vocation.
There were no immediate answers. No angel came to visit me. I heard no words from heaven. Yet, as I reflected on my life in light of the Mysteries of the Rosary, I experienced a kind of knowing I had never encountered before. As my mind repeatedly presented to me the possibility of becoming a priest (which I had fought so hard against for many years), I gradually began to sense a peaceful certainty in the deepest depths of my heart.
Yet, as I sat with that stillness each night in prayer, a flood of worries and fears quickly came rushing into my mind: Can I really give up marriage? Will I not be lonely for all of my days? As an introverted man, will I be able to preach in front of crowds of people? Will I know what to say in the confessional, at someone’s deathbed, or at the graveside? My mind kept telling me “no.” The surface of my heart told me “no” as well. I had intense feelings of fear, resistance, and sorrow. Yet, amidst the rush of thoughts and feelings, I looked back into the depths of my heart, and I repeatedly felt the same peaceful certainty about entering formation for religious life. I eventually gave into that quiet, subtle invitation to enter formation, even though those intense thoughts and feelings never fully subsided during my initial discernment.
Through my seminary formation, I learned to describe what was happening with a bit more precision. Those innermost depths of the heart are what we often call the conscience, and it is the dwelling place of God in every Christian. It is the tabernacle in the temple that is the human person. Here, the Holy Spirit of God dwells and speaks with a “still, soft voice.” The problem is that our thoughts, emotions, and the world itself can present a storm of commotion that drowns out the silent depths of our hearts. If you wish to know God’s will for your life, the most essential step is to enter those depths continually through quiet, meditative prayer.
We can learn from the symbol of the Congregation of Holy Cross: the cross and anchors. Amidst the storm of possibilities for our lives, drop your anchor to those quiet depths of your heart again and again in daily, silent prayer. Let the noise crashing on the surface of your mind and this world subside—not just once, but every day. There, at those murky depths of your heart, in that still place where the anchor of your soul rests while the storm rages on in the surface of your life, you will gradually sense the subtle pulls of the Holy Spirit like gentle currents deep within you. When you find a steady current there—a peaceful certainty leading you to take a daunting step—it will lead you to God’s will. Know that where God calls you might disturb you with anxious thoughts or intense feelings. After all, one’s true vocation will lead to the cross. Yet, take courage. It is the Holy Spirit of God gently calling you to the holy will of God, and He will lead you through whatever cross you face to the fullness of eternal life.
By Fr. Zachary Rathke, C.S.C.
Provided by the Holy Cross Vocations Office, October 2, 2025
