The following comes from an April 8 story in the National Catholic Register.
In January of 2010, Grant Desme shocked the baseball world by announcing his retirement from the game. Only 23 at the time, Desme had recently been named the 2009 Arizona Fall League MVP and was on the verge of playing in the majors. Despite his athletic success, the former center fielder knew he was called to something greater.
Desme left behind all his worldly goods — including a sizable baseball contract, shiny SUV and state-of-the-art cellphone — to embrace a life of poverty, celibacy and obedience. Now, his confreres at St. Michael’s Abbey in Silverado, Calif., know him as Frater (Brother) Matthew Desme.
Despite what may appear to many as an overly austere lifestyle, Frater Matthew sees through appearances to the very heart of Jesus, from which he derives his happiness. Now that the former Big West Conference Player of the Year is in touch with Divine love, everything else has fallen into its rightful place.
In a rare interview, Frater Matthew recently discussed his new life inside St. Michael’s Abbey.
You entered the seminary in the fall of 2010. How many years do you have left before ordination?
After this school year, I’ll have one more year of philosophy, four years of theology and one apostolic year in Rome. It’s a long haul, but I’m not looking too far ahead. I’m really immersed in philosophy right now.
How did you get the name Matthew?
We’re supposed to submit a list of three possible religious names, and the superior chooses which one we’ll use. I ended up having to submit two separate lists of three names each, and Matthew was the sixth possibility overall. Even though it wasn’t my first choice, I already see at least one commonality with my own life: St. Matthew was wealthy before deciding to follow Jesus.
Shortly after I entered the abbey, one of my brothers in religion, Frater Alan, suggested that I be called Frater Moses. I didn’t like the name at the time, but since studying the Old Testament more in depth, I’ve come to appreciate the faith and works of Moses. Now I wouldn’t mind having that name, but I also like the name Matthew. I think its significance will become clearer to me as time goes on.
Do you miss playing baseball?
When I first left baseball, I didn’t miss it one bit. I was very happy to be giving it up for good. However, I have been able to play the game since then, because there are other brothers here who play baseball.
I still don’t miss playing professionally, but I’ve come to enjoy the game of baseball itself more. When I let go of it as my idol, I was enabled to enjoy it for what it’s worth. When you’re projecting your own designs on something and taking it more seriously than it should be, you don’t get what God intended you to get out of it.
When you simply accept things for what they are and don’t expect more than what they can give, you experience the satisfaction you’re supposed to.
How did you first realize that baseball wouldn’t bring you ultimate happiness?
At every stage of my career, I thought happiness was around the corner. No matter how well I played or how far I advanced, I never gained the complete, lasting happiness I was expecting. There were thrills, but none of them lasted. Everything here below is fleeting.
I injured my shoulder while playing for the Vancouver Canadians, a minor-league team for the Oakland A’s, in 2007. During rehab, I sat out with another player, who didn’t speak much English. I was separated from the team and even from the other player who was injured. It was initially disconcerting, but it was really a period of great grace.
I was removed from the superficial chatter and other noise that I had been accustomed to via electronic media. It was through the silence and solitude that I started to think beyond the baseball field and about life in general. I realized that even if I played 20 years in the major leagues and ended up a Hall of Famer, I would still die one day. No matter what I achieved, I would be just as dead as everyone else in the cemetery.
I then thought of my particular judgment and how I would be held accountable for every decision I made in life. Eternal punishment or reward would follow, based on whether or not I was a faithful disciple of Jesus. It became clear that I had to get into a deeper, more prayerful relationship with the Lord.
Former professional soccer player Chase Hilgenbrinck announced in 2008 that he would be leaving soccer to pursue the priesthood. Did his decision influence yours?
I remember reading about Chase’s decision, but it didn’t affect my own. At that point, I hadn’t seriously considered becoming a priest. I was still on the road back to the Lord in a more general way.
Once I started to consider the priesthood seriously, I almost immediately knew it was for me. There was no gut-wrenching discernment; just a simple knowledge that Jesus was calling me to continue his life and ministry. That was the Lord’s loving invitation to me, and I knew living it out would make me truly happy.
I would recommend looking into the priesthood to young men who think they might be called. There’s nothing the world needs more than the mercy of Jesus Christ, which is granted through his priests. It’s a spiritual fatherhood that is even more profound that physical fatherhood. It’s something the saints have written about in almost unbelievable terms. It’s mind-boggling to think of what Jesus wants to give us through spiritual fathers.
What would you say to young men who think they may have a priestly or religious calling but are afraid of giving up worldly things to pursue it?
I was living out every young man’s dream. I was playing well enough to be a Major League Baseball player. I had a big, shiny SUV and even bigger bank account. That’s what most people would think of as being at the pinnacle of manhood. You’ve got all these things that display how strong and capable you are: You become better known, people want to be around you, and everything looks great.
That’s a very superficial form of masculinity, though. It’s based on externals and trying to put yourself before others. I’ve since learned an authentic masculinity based on self-sacrificing love. Being a man is not about stepping on others, but lifting others up. It’s about using the God-given strength you have to protect others and guide them to eternal life.
Some people have the idea — which I shared at one time — that Christianity is kind of a soft religion, not worth giving much attention to. What I’ve come to know, however, is that if you truly attempt to live it out, Christianity is anything but soft. A sincere attempt to be a follower of Jesus requires nothing less than a complete dedication of your entire being.
This has become clearer to me in the abbey, where we are called to live out the Gospel more intensely than in the world. Far from being an idle life, I’ve found that what’s required here calls me to reach to the very depths of my masculinity to become a more complete disciple of Jesus. The challenges of baseball are nothing compared to the challenges of religious life, which is about dying to self in order to live for Jesus.
Living for Jesus sounds attractive, but dying to self in order to do that doesn’t always seem attractive.
Yet we can’t have union with Jesus without first denying ourselves. Our Lord made this very evident in Matthew 16, saying, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”
We’re called to let go of our own selfishness, to “lose our lives” for the sake of finding true life in Jesus. While it may appear unattractive, a life of penance for the love of God is actually the only way to be truly happy. It might seem like you’re losing out, but that’s just an illusion. Whatever we give to God, he gives back to us a hundredfold, even in this life. This is made clear at the end of Matthew 19, which also indicates that, in eternity, many of the first will be last and the last first.
Repentance is necessary for following any vocation, but trust is even more so. Turning away from sin is great, but it won’t last very long without confidence in God’s mercy. In order for repentance to endure for our eternal profit, it must be done with trust. Then the initial fear will change into filial devotion. Instead of avoiding sin only because of its consequences, we live out a life of proactive virtue for the love of God.
With trust; we turn our eyes from ourselves to the life of Jesus, which overflows with mercy for us. Our fears are cast aside and replaced with boundless confidence in the unfailing promises of the Lord. St. Faustina spread this message, and it comes to the forefront of the Church’s liturgical calendar on Divine Mercy Sunday, one week after Easter Sunday.
Why did you choose to become a religious priest instead of a diocesan one?
I played on baseball teams all my life, so the team atmosphere became second nature to me. I looked for the same type of setting in the spiritual life: a group of men working together for a common goal. Solitary life hasn’t ever appealed to me, so I didn’t think of diocesan priesthood, which is more of an individual thing in most parishes.
I’ve played on some great baseball teams, but the team here at St. Michael’s is by far the best one I’ve been a part of. Instead of fighting an athletic battle, we’re fighting a spiritual one. We’re united in fraternal charity to overcome the world, the flesh and the devil. Every time we offer the sacrifice of the Mass, take apart in a Holy Hour before the Blessed Sacrament or pray the Divine Office, we’re doing things that have an eternal effect not only on ourselves, but on the whole Church.
Even in the events that aren’t part of official public worship — things such as mowing the lawn, forgoing dessert or studying philosophy — you do in community. You’re not an isolated man. You’re truly part of a team of men that have your eternal welfare at heart. That’s an extremely encouraging thing to carry with you through the day.
What is the most difficult part of monastic life?
The most difficult part is dying to self. When you first enter, you make the biggest step of renouncing worldly possessions and pledging to live in community. However, once you’re in religious life, there are still situations in which you can be tempted to follow self-will, however petty they might be.
What you find, though, is that the less you follow your own will, the more content you become. In the world, I tried to follow my own will as much as possible, but it only resulted in restlessness. Monastic life is about striving for freedom from self-will and union with God’s will, which is our sanctification and happiness.
The Blessed Virgin Mary is, of all creatures, the most free from self-will and the most untied with the will of God. It’s clear, then, that we can gain so much from her maternal intercession for us. The postulants here make the Marian consecration according to the method of St. Louis de Montfort, which we renew every Saturday.
What is the best part of monastic life?
The best thing is getting to live in God’s house, not in a metaphorical sense, but in a true sense. Jesus, who is God incarnate, dwells here in our tabernacle. The same Jesus who preached the Gospel, healed the sick and dispensed other graces on sinners abundantly, lives among us sacramentally. The appearances are different, but the God-man is the same.
Every grace we have flows through the Blessed Sacrament because the Blessed Sacrament is a Person, not a thing. When you realize that, your life changes profoundly. The isolation, discontent and grasping for things give way to an interior freedom that is beyond compare.
Our life here is the continuation of the life of Jesus Christ, who was poor, celibate and obedient. Being God, and therefore lacking nothing, he deliberately chose to live among us without most of the goods of this world. He knew that following his Father’s will out of love was the only thing that mattered. That’s the only thing that should matter to us, because it’s the only way we’ll be happy.
Most people aren’t called to the priesthood or monastic life, yet everyone can benefit from becoming more “monastic,” in the sense of seeing things for what they really are. A right ordering of priorities is essential if you want to get the most out of life. It’s ironic that, while in the abbey, even despite all the sacrifices, I’m able to enjoy things more than I did in the world.
Those who think of religious life as odd or even miserable would be surprised at how much joy there is in the abbey. Recreation time is especially indicative of this, because of all the laughter. We do take our vows seriously, but we don’t take ourselves seriously.
Do you have any closing words for Christians in general?
Participate in the sacramental life of the Church, which is a life of love. Jesus wants us to experience his healing love infinitely more than we do. If we knew the love he has for us, it would be so overwhelming that we would die, so he hides himself under the appearance of bread and in the ministry of priests.
We’re called to nothing less than a participation in the life of the Holy Trinity. Becoming sons of God in the only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, we are heirs to the Kingdom of heaven. This should inspire us to pray every day. Nothing is more necessary than prayer, and nothing could be easier. You don’t have to make a pilgrimage across the world — you just acknowledge the God without whom you could not exist for one second.
St. Teresa of Avila said that if you persevere in prayer, you will certainly be saved, but that if you stop praying, you throw yourself into hell. By trying to “go it alone,” we lose all the graces God wants to give us; but by admitting our weakness and asking for help, we become capable of doing things which once seemed impossible.
All the saints have become saints through prayer, which is the means of obtaining God’s merciful love. My own patrons — St. Matthew, St. Augustine, St. Norbert and St. Faustina — are all messengers of mercy, which they wouldn’t have known about had they not prayed. Prayer is the way to touch the heart of Jesus, which is overflowing with grace for sinners. I witness this every day before the Blessed Sacrament.
The only thing that will last after death is our relationship — or lack thereof — with God. This is something that should motivate everyone to see past the superficial things of life that clamor for our attention and instead invest our lives in God, trusting in his mercy.
Read the original story here.
Thank you for running this interview. It is excellent and inspirational. May God bless all.
Excellent article… it shows our young people that God may call them to a vocation to the religious life if they only listen for the calling.
One short life and soon is past,
Only what’s done for God will last.
This is what I tell my children and grandchildren. This young man gets it.
A wonderful, Blessed interview!! This young man is giving glory to the Lord and is
responding to God’s Call for his life… I believe he will bring MANY to JESUS in his
life time and within his Ministry…Blessings and Congratulations to his parents and
family
Very well stated Professor McCaffrey!
I had the pleasure of watching Grant play baseball in his last regular season. In that game, he hit a home run, made a running over-the-shoulder outfield catch and aggressively stretched an extra base from another hit, from which he scored. He was clearly the best player on the field that game.
To further demonstrate Desme’s baseball potential, Buster Posey, the San Francisco Giants catcher was the 2010 Rookie of the Year and was last year’s National League MVP. Posey was one of ballplayers who played in the Arizona Fall League with Grant, and one of many fine players Grant out-performed at that time.
In a fine article written by Jeff Passan and available on Yahoo sports, Grant is quoted about that experience.
“It was nuts. It was 10 games of just – I couldn’t do anything wrong. I remember that at-bat where it stopped. I stepped in the box at Mesa. First at-bat. I knew it was gone. It’s just a feeling. That’s why, in hindsight, I know it was God working. That was a special grace. That’s what I had yearned for. There’s nothing better I could’ve done that season. That was a big sign for me. OK. What’s going on here? I should be happy about this. But I wasn’t. There was something more. God was just tugging at my heart. That’s what religious life is. God calls us.”
“Baseball is a habit. The slowly rising crescendo of each game, the rhythm of the long season–these are the essentials and they are remarkably unchanged over nearly a century and a half. Of how many American institutions can that be said?” George Will
Well, we know another institution that is 2000 yrs. old and it’s my bias showing but I think baseball is a remarkable sport and I’m not surprised that someone so talented and spiritual should not only love the sport but give it up his love of God. I agree with everyone else here…this was a wonderful interview. How does one so young get so smart so soon?
…oops. ‘give it up FOR his love of God”
Sigh. Everyone is going to hate me again. I guess that is my lot in life. Because, I don’t see same things everyone else here sees when reading this. I have, for awhile now, been tired of the recurring theme that you see in clerical thought about its “superiority” over the “world”. Yet, our contemporary clerical cultural has—I think—some severe fundamental flaws that it simply refuses to recognize.
That these flaws exist should be obvious. The child abuse scandal makes that clear. Not that some vipers existed among ordained priests—any large group will have abject failures. The cultural problems revealed by the scandal involve how multiple policy makers (bishops) independently made similar bad decisions when confronted with the problem. Given a wide range of possible decisions, in a “null” world one would expect that decisions would range across the board. When bishops across the world made consistently bad decisions, and those bad decisions repeated each other across the globe—that suggests a systemic problem in the fundamental culture in which that decision-maker was trained.
Desme’s interview SCREAMS clerical contempt for the world. He talks about the “superior” masculinity of the clergy over the “superficial” masculinity of the sports world. Is he a priest because he wants to help others and serve God, or is it because he wants to be “more man” those those poor dumb losers in major league baseball?
It seems to me that his goals might not have changed all that much, he’s just substituted a new yardstick of success. He still wants to be “more man” than everyone else around him.
Desme doesn’t say that the priesthood is “right for him” or that emphasizing how the priesthood is a calling that is not extended to everyone. Instead, he seems to focus on the priesthood’s “superiority” to living in the world. Is this not hubris? He seems to imply that EVERY professional baseball player is on the wrong path and that, they should all become priests.
Yet, how can this be so? If everyone chose the clerical life and faithfully fulfilled their vows, the human race would cease to exist. Self-induced annihilation is certainly is not God’s will. The continuation of the human race is not evidence of spiritual failure or of failed manhood.
Instead, I believe God has different callings for different people. For most, that calling is NOT the priesthood. Thus, how is a priest “superior” to say, a common laborer if both have been called to that life by God? Yet, Desme’s interview is FILLED with proclamations of the superiority of priestly life vis a vis the world. For example, Desme goes out of his way to point out that the challenges of professional baseball are “nothing” compared to the challenges of the monastery. I’m sorry, but this smacks of arrogance—spiritual arrogance that is apparently cultivated and encouraged in the seminary.
Part of this may simply be poor choice of words. Desme would have come across MUCH better had he said that, For me, the seminary has been far more difficult and challenging than anything I faced on the baseball field. Self-denial is hard. I struggle with it every day. Yet, I believe this is the path God has chosen for me and I’m trying my best to live up to that calling.” This is the sound of true humility.
Instead, what we hear from Desme is how much more manly and superior priests are to baseball players and a whole lot about how “spiritual fatherhood” is superior to physical fatherhood. Methinks Desme has a lot of work to do when it comes to humility.
Now, I know this won’t be popular; but, could it be that this kind of spiritual arrogance is what led to the blindness of the bishops that made horrible (and oftentimes immoral) decisions when confronted by the truth of abuse victims? Could not this conviction of spiritual superiority make a bishop disbelieve reports of predatory priests? Instead, someone with this outlook will condescendingly blame the “corrupt” world for misunderstanding the “pure” priests—resulting in what must be false accusations.
Such a conclusion must have been much more personally satisfying—and would help maintain the illusion of clerical superiority—rather than confronting the ugly truth. And generations of children have paid the price.
Is it not time to root out this blind spot in the culture of the priesthood?
JonJ – You speak as someone who does not understand or has never experienced (or considered) “dying to one’s self.” The clerical culture is fine. If you are called to married, single or religious life – all have their place. Religious life is, in a way, superior to the others, but not in a sense of being domineering or lording the vocation over other vocations. If anything, Frater Matthew’s comments SCREAM obedience, submission to the Will of God, and an acceptance of his role in God’s Will being worked out in this world.
JonJ, I agree with you. The way Brother Desme stated things (as quoted) seems like he substituted one type of brotherhood for another, even though I believe he has found a deeper meaning due to his clerical studies and relationships in the monastery. But some of why he’s stating things in this way, I think, is because he’s still a young man.
I agree also that there’s more than one calling in this life. (In addition, some are called to work with the world — witness Mother Teresa and her order — while still being a religious.) And some people are probably called to be bricklayers, while others are called to be writers, and still others are called to be ministers. (Very rarely does it happen where someone might be called to do all three at various points in his/her life.)
I think what Brother Desme is doing now is sensible, logical, and that he has indeed had a spiritual experience that is meaningful to him — one that he pursues daily. I’m glad he continues to play baseball, at least some of the time, as he had profound gifts there and it would be a shame for him to completely turn his back on those gifts.
But I completely take your meaning, and agree that the way Brother Desme stated things — if this is an accurate depiction (and it most probably is) — makes it seem that while his faith is genuine, he may have a ways to go, else. (But then again, we all do in our various ways.)