Since John Nienstedt was ten he knew he would be a priest

by Roger Matz

Ten-year-old John Clayton Nienstedt stood in front of his entire fourth-grade class and announced his intention to become a priest.

However, eight years later, Nienstedt didn’t tell his parents that he’d enrolled in the seminary until after the ink was dry and it was a done deal. "I had an interview and signed up for the seminary without ever letting them know," said Nienstedt, the new Bishop of the Diocese of New Ulm. "I only revealed it (to them) after I’d been accepted because I wanted it to be my own decision."

Were his parents upset? "In point of fact, my parents were elated," he smiled.

Though it happened more than four decades ago, Bishop Nienstedt’s memory of his fourth-grade announcement remains indelible.

"I was in front of the class, giving a report while standing at a lectern," he recalled. "My teacher, Mrs. Bergman, asked ‘what are you going to be when you grow up?’ Without hesitation, I said ‘a priest.’"

Then Mrs. Bergman asked how long he’d known that. "I remember stopping to think. I thought that was a pretty good question. I remember explicitly the answer I gave: ‘For as long as I’ve known anything, I’ve known that.’"

His fourth-grade confidence began to fade, however, as he moved through his high school years. "I started dating and going to parties. I was president of the student council. I had a lot of fun in high school and began wondering if this (the priesthood) was for me. Was it a childish fantasy or was it really God calling me?"

The answer came when he was a senior. "I remember kneeling in front of the Blessed Sacrament, asking God to give me a sign. At the end of that, I had a sense that I had to try it. It was such a deeply felt attraction," he said.

He still feels that compelling attraction today, 27 years after his ordination as a priest, and it’s given him a sort of measuring stick for his life. "The church is not some kind of impersonal institution for me. She has a heart and a soul," Bishop Nienstedt said. "That’s what really keeps me going, that firm belief that the church is such an attractive force. Faith can give us such a sense of direction, stability and peace in our life. That’s what I hope to communicate to people. If I can succeed at that, I will have lived a very worthwhile life."

During the more than four decades which have disappeared since he committed to the priesthood in front of his classmates, Nienstedt has honed his definition of both priest and bishop.

"Being a priest or a bishop is not a job. It’s a vocation. It’s a love," he said. In his statement accepting his appointment to New Ulm, Nienstedt wrote that he was coming as "a priest, not a politician...as a shepherd, not a CEO."

He admits that the skills of a CEO or the talents of a politician may sometimes be helpful "but that’s not what priests and bishops are about. Yes, we have to make decisions. Yes, we consult, we go through a process. Hopefully, we’re diplomatic as we go about this, but we’re not out there to win votes or be concerned primarily about the bottom line."

Bishop Nienstedt tends to lump financial and administrative matters in one pile and matters of salvation in another. "While these decisions (administrative or financial) are necessary and good, they really are secondary to the work of a bishop or priest," he said. Priests and bishops "are concerned about the spiritual well-being of individuals who are entrusted to their care and service. I’m much more concerned about a person’s soul and his or her spiritual well-being or frame of mind or heart than I am about these other decisions."

It’s essential to keep things in perspective, he believes. After finishing his theological studies in Rome and returning to Detroit, he recalled "having some frustrating days where nothing seemed to be going right. I’d pick up the phone, call some of my classmates in Boston or Buffalo or California and we’d get to talking about things. What I thought were the failures of my day took on a different perspective in light of the big picture," he said. "There’s a certain perspective you have on the universal level of the church that helps to put everything else in perspective. You see that certain things are much more crucial than other things, but it’s those other things which are on my agenda or my plate at the moment. It’s good to stand back and see that this is not all there is. There’s more."

To relax, he reads or jogs. "A good vacation isn’t a good vacation unless I can read a good book, usually a novel," he said. "I’ve found jogging is a great relaxer for me." For the past seven years, he’s been running three times a week, generally covering 3 1/2 miles in 40 minutes. He favors jogging down quiet residential streets because "it’s an excellent way to learn about an area." In Detroit, he enjoyed diversions ranging from watching the Detroit Red Wings play hockey to attending classical music concerts. Friends tell him there’s no shortage of good music and theatre in the Twin Cities, something he looks forward to experiencing for himself.

At the moment, Bishop Nienstedt seems to be running on a "high" generated by his new challenges. "The excitement of being a priest is what gets me up in the morning. Since the announcement (of his New Ulm appointment), I’ve been waking up extra early. The adrenaline is really flowing. It’s exciting to be alive, to be a Catholic, to be a priest."

Roger Matz is a regional writer living in Rochester, MN. He is a former member of St. Mary parish, New Ulm.