When did this vocation of mine begin? When did I first have the thought, the desire to be a priest? It was when I was just a little boy. I was about three or four years old. It is very strange that I remember this very clearly….

But how was this desire to become a priest awakened?  It was like this: my father’s very old mother lived in our family. She spent most of her time in bed. She spent most of her time in bed. Every month a priest visited her. He would talk to her for a while, always in a pleasant and kind tone. Then he would close the door. It was to confess her. The next morning, he would bring her Holy Communion.

This kind and cheerful gentleman in his sacred cassock impressed me very much. Every time he came, I ran to give him my little hand. And he would talk to me jokingly, kindly and encouragingly. How I loved this! We became friends.

But in a very different way he impressed me on the mornings when he came to give Holy Communion to my grandmother. Before the priest arrived, I would take a look at the old lady’s room. Everything was solemn. She didn’t say a word. I saw her mind covered with a white tablecloth. Above the crucifix and the lighted candles. The priest arrived. But he came dressed very differently than the day before. He was wearing a white robe! We received him at the door of the house. My mother would prostrate herself on her knees and I would kneel beside her. The priest entered with the Blessed Sacrament in his hands. I understood very little, but I felt much more, only one thing was clear to me: I wanted to be like that, just like that priest! But I said nothing of this to anyone.

The tonsure

During one of the priest’s monthly visits, I discovered something that surprised me a lot: the tonsure! It was for me something sensational. Perhaps it was freshly shaved, for it shone like one of our ancient suns. And it was the same size.

When the priest left, I rushed to my mother and asked her in great agitation: “Mom, what is that thing the priest has on top of his head? At the same time I indicated the important place with my finger on my own little head. My mother understood at once what I was referring to. She burst out laughing. She kept laughing for a long time. And between constant fits of laughter she tried to clarify my problem. I had lost my job. I didn’t understand anything. I kept asking, and my mother kept explaining. I became impatient, my mother became desperate. And finally I cried with laughter… I didn’t tire of harassing her with my questions. I am sure she was completely discouraged, for she ended with these dry words: “All priests have that”.

No more questions from me. But my problem got worse, it became a big deal. So that’s what all priests have! Little did my mother suspect what a momentous importance this brief final report was for my little person. For I wanted to be a priest. And if all priests had “it”, well, then it was a question of whether I had “it” or not. And what if I didn’t have “it”? I was very frightened. I was in a great hurry to clarify this matter.

Quickly and disguising my intentions, I looked for a corner where I was alone. Where no one could see me. With my finger I searched and felt for the respective place at the top of my person. The result was dismaying. No matter how hard I kept searching, exploring and feeling, everything up there was covered with an undeniable thicket of hair. Full of all the hair so fatal. Not even the tiniest vestige of that mirror-smooth, shiny little patch I had seen on the priest’s head.

All my little vocational prospects were diverted. I could never be a priest. Because, I lacked “that” that all priests had. I felt defeated, unhappy. And my defeat silenced everyone….

When he was six years old, he began attending St. Joseph’s State School. At the same time, he attended parish catechesis, where he prepared to receive his first communion. there he learned the meaning of tonsure and affirmed his desire to one day become a priest.