Jesus Christ!
Jesus Christ is the love of my life (cf. Jn 21:7). Today is Holy Thursday, the day on which the Lord instituted the priesthood in Jerusalem. Today I can finally write my vocational story. Or at least try, because my story is known mainly by God. He has been preparing my heart for thirteen years so that the miracle of the Eucharist bursts into my hands, so that my voice may pronounce the redemptive phrase “I absolve you of your sins.” Heart preparation. These years I have learned that “holiness is not the perfection of conduct, but the perfection of the heart.” I want, with God’s grace and in the company of Mary, to be holy. For me, life is a journey to heaven that passes through the cross. Let’s go to heaven!
You seduced me, Lord, and I let myself be seduced (Jer 20:7)
What do you want from me, Lord? I am willing to do whatever you want of me, I asked God on February 2, 2003, on a beach in North Africa. I was eighteen years old, and that summer I was traveling through Europe with my brothers and later with a friend. Providence willed that during those vacation months I had moments alone, away from my environment. The first time I visited the Vatican, it marked me. I felt something in St. Peter’s Basilica, something that captivated my heart. So much so that, in the last free hours before leaving Rome, I felt a strong attraction to return and pray there. I didn’t have much time, but I couldn’t leave the Eternal City without saying goodbye. I prayed in front of the tabernacle of the altar of Saint Joseph. I left that visit touched. When I arrived running from the metro station to the hotel, all the tourists were on the bus that would take us to the airport. My sister was relieved to see me arrive; she knows I like to make the most of every second, and that’s why I am often late.
During my stay in Rome, I also visited the International College of the Legionaries of Christ. It was very difficult to find it; I confused the metro station Valle Aurelia with the train station Rome Aurelia. I arrived late, just as the community was gathering for evening prayers. From a corner, with my disheveled Chilean look, I watched a spectacle, a kind of human stampede. Hundreds of young people dressed in black cassocks walked silently toward the chapel. I saw familiar faces of brothers who had worked at the Cumbres College in Santiago, who, with joyful amazement, left their procession to greet me. That moment is etched in my memory. Something about all that seduced me.
What do you want from me, Lord? I am willing to do whatever you want of me. On that beach, the sun shone in a way that made me understand that God existed and was listening to me, that He had a plan for me. Although I didn’t quite understand what it was at the time. When I returned to Chile, a new stage full of challenges opened up. I started studying Law at the Catholic University. The first months involved a great effort to adapt to the new rhythm of studies. I was happy with my family, my career, my friends, but something had awakened in me. My heart had been seduced by Someone, a feeling that is very difficult to explain, but which I perceive and distinguish as the taste of my favorite chocolate among a thousand. That feeling led me to think of distant horizons, to travel with my soul to an unknown region. I was no longer entirely here. It was like a thirst that was satisfied and increased with visits to the Blessed Sacrament in the chapel of my faculty or in Otoñal—the street where the youth section of Regnum Christi was located. I loved entering Otoñal. There I re-experienced that feeling that hurt me and, at the same time, attracted me.
You are a priest forever (Ps 110:4)
One night, alone in my room, I was praying, repeating the same phrase from the beach. I was kneeling in front of the crucifix on my bed, with Albinoni’s adagio playing in the background. Suddenly, a word emerged very clearly inside me: “PRIEST.” That word hurt me. I immediately realized that my life was splitting forever. If that word was true, I had to leave everything behind (cf. Lk 5:11), my present and future family that I would never have, my friends, my land, my plans… what hurt me the most was leaving my plans. It hurt and attracted me. It was my truth: “PRIEST.” The next day, going to university, everything was different: the metro, the city, the classes, my friends, myself. I already knew my truth.
In an act of courage, I spoke with my spiritual director. I decided to freeze my studies for a year and go to a vocations discernment course of the Legion in the United States. No one, except my mom and two friends, knew where I was going. I told everyone I wanted to be a collaborator—many young people of the Movement dedicate a year to serve the Church in Regnum Christi. When the plane took off, I couldn’t stop crying. Why am I leaving if I don’t want to? It’s true, I didn’t want to. The experience in the seminary was a struggle. I didn’t feel God, I didn’t know what He was asking me, or I didn’t want to know, I wasn’t at peace. After a few weeks, I decided to become a collaborator. I remember that year in Michigan fondly, but I didn’t leave with a definitive decision. I talked a lot with the house superior about my vocational doubts. Once, he told me very simply: What is a life? Give it!
When I returned to Chile, everything remained the same, but I perceived my change more deeply. I was no longer so interested in parties or future professional success. I wondered why God was returning me to the world without my ambitions. During those years, I started going to Mass during the week and took my vocation as a young member of Regnum Christi very seriously. I liked going to the 8 p.m. Mass. Amidst saints’ frescoes and under the dim light of my parish, I found refuge in the Eucharist, and communion began to become a necessity. On Mondays after Mass, a Legionary would expose the Blessed Sacrament and pray for vocations.
Lay down your life (Jn 10:11)
The fall of 2005, I met a woman I liked very much. When I got home and looked at the stars before entering, I breathed like a true lover. Maybe that was what I was missing: to meet the woman of my life. For a while I was with her, I believed that was it, but soon the feeling of having been seduced by the Lord returned. Many times I experienced that love that hurt and attracted me; I would decide and then back away. It was very hard for me to leave everything behind.
One afternoon, praying in a side chapel of my parish, I was seeking an answer. I rested my forehead on a grille that protected a wooden box with a relic of Saint Thérèse of Los Andes. When I opened my eyes, I only saw one phrase: “GIVE YOUR LIFE,” just like that, in uppercase. The figure of the Good Shepherd was carved with the inscription: “The Good Shepherd gives his life” (Jn 10:11). The Good Shepherd was inviting me to be a shepherd, to be a fisher of men (cf. Lk 5:10). I knew that phrase was for me, that it responded to the deepest longing of my heart. With everything I had been experiencing in the previous years, that was the only answer that could fully satisfy me: “GIVE YOUR LIFE,” give my life. That defines me; I am a man of all or nothing. Either I give my life or I give nothing.
I don’t remember exactly when I took the step. Rather, I think it was a chain of steps or many “yes” responses that formed my answer, like a large mosaic that finally says “yes.” During summer missions in northern Argentina with two legionaries who are pillars of my vocation, I understood that my heart was already ready to go. I can still see the sunset rays falling on many smiles and a chapel lost in the pre-mountain range. At the beginning of the year, I told my parents: I want to be a priest. And after them, I told my brothers and everyone else. During my first meditation knowing I would leave, kneeling before my crucifix—the same one that announced my vocation years earlier—I meditated on the passage of the Annunciation. I understood that Mary said “yes” without knowing everything that would come. She trusted and was not mistaken (cf. Lc 1:26-38). I thought my life would be the same, I trusted too: Jesus, I trust in You.
The years of formation have been full of graces. I am a witness to the hundredfold of the Gospel (cf. Mk 10:28-31). Above all, as I said at the beginning, it has been a time in which the Lord has been shaping and preparing my heart for the undeserved gift of the priesthood. Recently, I heard a homily that summarizes well my years in the seminary. In it, a bishop said that the great question before ordination was not so much about the candidate’s strengths, but about his weaknesses. And he posed three questions: Are you weak enough to be a priest? Are you broken enough to be a priest? Do you have enough fear to be a priest? If these are the three questions, I believe I am ready (cf. 2Co 12:5). These years I have experienced my weakness until hitting rock bottom and breaking. I fear sin and all its false seductions, I fear a double life, I fear being far from the Lord. But “I can do all things in Him who strengthens me” (Phil 4:13). I have also let myself be touched by the power of grace that heals, I have let myself be lifted by His redeeming arm that saves, I have let myself be found by His smiling gaze. I have experienced the salvation of the Lord, His mercy. Jesus means “God saves” (cf. Mt 1:21). I firmly believe that we do not begin to be Christians until we experience that salvation.
I suffered a great loss during this process: my mom died young. She died with a desire to see me as a priest and to be in the front row on the day of my ordination. I know Jesus will not deny her that longing. She will be there, on Saturday, May 4, 2019, in the true front row—the one in heaven.
Thank you, Lord!
I want to thank God for my vocation, which makes me an immensely happy man. I will need all eternity to thank Him (cf. Sal 89:2). I want to thank the Virgin, my Mother, and the saints who accompany and sustain me. I want to thank my family, my legionary brothers, all the people I love, and all those the Lord puts in my path to heaven. I know my voice will pass, and I don’t care. Because the only word I want to pronounce with my life will remain: Jesus Christ!
Fr. Javier Ayala Birrell, L.C. Born on June 13, 1984, in Santiago, Chile. He was a student at Colegio Cumbres in Santiago, a member of ECYD and Regnum Christi. From 2003 to 2004, he was a collaborator in the United States. He studied three years of Law at the Catholic University of Chile. On September 14, 2006, he entered the Novitiate of the Legion of Christ in Salamanca and studied humanities there. In 2009, he began his bachelor’s in philosophy at the Pontifical Athenaeum Regina Apostolorum. In 2011, he started his apostolic practices as director of the youth section of La Dehesa in Santiago, Chile. From 2014 to 2018, he studied for a license in philosophy and a bachelor’s in theology. He was ordained deacon on August 4, 2018, in Santiago. He currently works in youth ministry for Regnum Christi and at Everest School in Santiago, Chile.
