Secular institutes: Hidden in plain sight

Kathleen Tierney was amazed to discover a thriving community of devout Catholic women living lives of celibacy for Christ’s sake. (Photos courtesy of Kathleen Tierney)

MOST CATHOLICS expect consecrated women to be in convents, not climbing gyms. But the essence of my vocation placed me there, with a particular person, at a particular moment in his life.

As I was putting on my harness for my usual vertical workout, I was chatting with the manager of the gym. He noticed the cross I was wearing, a 1 1⁄2-inch replica of Saint Francis de Sales’ episcopal cross, which I wear publicly as part of the rule of the DeSales Secular Institute. I explained that it was modeled after the cross worn by a bishop who is also a saint.

“Are you Catholic?” he asked.

“Yes!” I perked up.

“My wife is Catholic,” he said.

“Is she practicing?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, not really. I’m an evangelical Christian but … searching.”

Prior to my calling to a secular institute 15 years ago, I probably would have let the conversation end there. I’m friendly but naturally shy, and conversations about deep spiritual matters don’t come easily for me with people I’ve just met.

But these are exactly the moments my vocation was made for.

All in with everyday life

Secular institutes were inspired by the Holy Spirit more than a century ago to bring people with a deep love for Christ and the Catholic faith into the post-Christian, secular world as missionaries. Instead of stepping away from everyday life, we remain fully in it.

My own journey toward that vocation began unexpectedly.

In my 30s, during the soul-searching and questioning that often comes with a midlife crisis, I encountered God in a way I never had before. I had grown up Catholic, but I suddenly discovered the depth and beauty of the Catholic faith for the first time. As I plunged into the wellspring of prayer, the sacraments, and the life of the church, I experienced a sense of peace, joy, fulfillment, and freedom that could only come from the Holy Spirit.

That was when I realized God was calling me to serve, not as a wife and mother, but as a consecrated, celibate woman. Naturally, I assumed that meant religious life.

What followed were several years of what many people discerning a vocation know well: the spiritual roller coaster of discernment. I explored religious life. God said no. I spent two years walking the path toward consecrated virginity. Again, God said no.

Confused and feeling a little rejected, I finally made a private vow of celibacy and promised Jesus I would do whatever he wanted.

The next five years were fruitful. I served the church in various ministries and discovered the writings of Saint Francis de Sales. His message that laypeople are called to holiness by learning how to “bloom where you are planted” lit a fire in my faith. For the first time, I felt at peace with my vocation as a privately vowed woman.

Drawn to a unique form of consecrated life

Then one day I came across the term secular institutes in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. My first reaction to this new vocation, with its somewhat unappealing name, was simple: “No!”

But God said, “Yes.”

The bait God used was the DeSales Secular Institute. I was amazed to discover a thriving community of devout Catholic women living lives of celibacy for the sake of Christ who also shared a love for Saint Francis de Sales.

What fascinated me about this vocation was that it seemed to be a response to Saint John Paul II’s call for a “New Evangelization,” except that it had already begun decades earlier in Europe. In the midst of increasingly secular cultures, privately consecrated men and women were living and working among ordinary people with the missionary zeal of the first Christians.

When church leaders in Rome noticed this growing movement, they studied it carefully. They recognized that it was not simply another form of religious life, but something new. In 1942 Pope Pius XII formally recognized secular institutes as a unique form of consecrated life in the church.

So what has this vocation looked like for me?

In some ways it resembles religious life. My formation included a postulancy and two years of formation. I made vows of poverty, celibate chastity, and obedience. After five years of temporary vows, I was fully incorporated into the institute at my Fifth Consecration.

My prayer life follows a spiritual directory inspired by Saint Francis de Sales. Each day I spend an hour in meditative prayer before the Lord, attend daily Mass, and pray morning, evening, and night prayer from the breviary. I practice a daily examen and go to Confession every other week.

But that’s where the similarities end. My vocation truly comes to life in the secular world.

How I live the vows

Outwardly, my life looks much like that of any other laywoman. I live in my own home, hold a job, and experience the ordinary ups and downs of everyday life. Yet within those ordinary settings I try to weave Christ into every moment and every encounter.

I live my vow of poverty by treating everything I have as something entrusted to me by God. My income belongs to God. I try to live simply so that more can be shared with those in need.

Our obedience is different from that of religious communities where members are assigned where to live or work. Instead, we practice obedience in the responsibilities we accept in service to our institute, the church, and the people God places in our lives. Saint Francis de Sales reminds us that true obedience is not just doing what is asked but doing it promptly and joyfully.

My vow of celibacy is a spiritual union with Christ that frees my heart to offer a kind of spiritual motherhood to the people God brings into my life.

Why the big secret?

At this point you might be wondering: Why haven’t I heard about this unique vocation before?

You’re not alone.

Many Catholics, and even some clergy, are unfamiliar with secular institutes. In their early decades many communities practiced what was called “reserve,” meaning members did not publicly identify their vocation. Founders believed this allowed them to evangelize on common ground with people who might otherwise be wary of religious life.

Some communities still follow that practice, while others are becoming more open about sharing their vocation within the church. Even Saint John Paul II acknowledged the hidden nature of this life when he described secular institutes as “a precious gift offered not only to the Christian community but also to that world which is ignorant of the magnitude of your vocation and your distinguished service.”

Which brings me back to the climbing gym. Years ago, I might have smiled politely and ended that conversation with the manager. But this time, armed with the grace of my vocation, I stayed.

What began as casual small talk turned into a 20-minute heart-to-heart conversation about the search for holiness, the truth of the gospel, and the deep roots of the Catholic faith that stretch all the way back to the apostles and to Christ himself.

Our conversation was animated enough that I suspect others working out nearby overheard more than a little evangelization.

At one point I said, half joking but half serious, “Maybe God encouraged me to join this gym just so I could meet people and share His love.” He smiled and replied, “Probably so you would be here to talk to me.”

That is what secular institutes are all about. 

Related: VocationNetwork.org, “Explore the different types of vocations” and “The essential facts about secular institutes.”