Choosing a State in Life
So the end of the rhetoric year approached, the time when students usually ponder their vocations. The dream I had in Murialdo was deeply imprinted on my mind; in fact it had recurred several times more in ever clearer terms, so that if I wanted to put faith in it I would have to choose the priesthood towards which I actually felt inclined. But I did not want to believe dreams, and my own manner of life, certain habits of my heart, and the absolute lack of the virtues necessary to that state, filled me with doubts and made the decision very difficult.
Oh, if only I had had a guide to care for my vocation! What a great treasure he would have been for me; but I lacked that treasure. I had a good confessor who sought to make me a good Christian, but who never chose to get involved in the question of my vocation.
Thinking things over myself, after reading some books which dealt with the choice of a state in life, I decided to enter the Franciscan Order.
If I become a secular priest, I told myself, my vocation runs a great risk of shipwreck. I will embrace the priesthood, renounce the world, enter the cloister, and dedicate myself to study and meditation; thus in solitude I will be able to combat my passions, especially my pride, which has put down deep roots in my heart.
So I applied to enter the Reformed Conventuals. I took the examination and was accepted. All was ready for my entry into Chieri’s Monastery of Peace. A few days before I was due to enter, I had a very strange dream. I seemed to see a multitude of these friars, clad in threadbare habits, all dashing about helter-skelter. One of them came up to me and said:
You’re looking for peace, but you won’t find it here. See what goes on! God’s preparing another place, another harvest for you.
I wanted to question this religious but a noise awakened me and I saw nothing more. I revealed everything to my confessor, but he did not want to hear of dreams or friars. In this matter, he said, everyone must follow his own inclinations and not the advice of others.
Then something cropped up which made it impossible for me to carry out my intention. And since the obstacles were many and difficult, I decided to reveal it all to my friend Comollo. He advised me to make a novena. Meanwhile he would write to his uncle the provost. On the last day of my novena, I went to Confession and Holy Communion with this incomparable friend. I attended one Mass and served another at the altar of Our Lady of Grace in the cathedral. Then we went home and found a letter from Fr Comollo which went something like this:
Having given careful consideration to your letter, I advise your friend not to enter a monastery at this time. Let him don the clerical habit. As he goes on with his studies he will better understand what God wants him to do. He must not fear to lose his vocation because aloofness from the world and earnest piety will help him overcome every obstacle.
I followed this wise advice and applied myself seriously to those things which would help prepare me to take the clerical habit. I took the rhetoric examination and then I also took the entrance examination for the seminary in Chieri – in the very rooms of the house which Charles Bertinetti willed us at his death, in the rooms Canon Burzio rented. That year the exam was not held in Turin as was usual, because of the cholera morbus which threatened our area.
I would like to note something about the college at Chieri that certainly exemplifies the spirit of piety that flourished there. During my four years as a student in the college, I do not remember ever hearing any talk, not even a word, that could be considered impolite or irreligious.
At the end of rhetoric course, of the 25 students, 21 embraced the clerical state, three became doctors, and one became a merchant.
When I got home for the holidays, I gave up acrobatics. I dedicated myself to reading good books which, I am ashamed to say, I had neglected up to then. I still kept up my interest in the youngsters, entertaining them with stories, pleasant recreation, sacred music; especially, finding that many of them, even the older ones, were almost ignorant of the truths of faith, I also undertook to teach them their daily prayers and other things more important at that age. It was a kind of oratory, attended by about fifty children, who loved me and obeyed me as if I were their father.