The Rev. Marvin Kitten, S.J., has earned a reputation as one of the most approachable Jesuit priests on campus.
However, he will soon be leaving Loyola, first for a sabbatical and then for reassignment.
“I just love to see his face,” English literature senior Ashley Chapman said. “He’s so jolly.”
“He is good to have conversations with. We can talk about everything. He doesn’t shove religion down your throat. I like that,” music performance junior Roberto Pasquariello said.
Kitten has been a resident chaplain twice as long as anyone else at Loyola. He also works as the full-time vocation director for the New Orleans Province of the Society of Jesus, covering 10 states and providing guidance to young men who want more information about life as a Jesuit.
“I’m proposing a vowed life of poverty, chastity and obedience, which is not necessarily what everybody is looking for these days,” Kitten said, laughing. “But I’ve been very busy over the last few years. It’s just remarkable the kind of men I get to deal with.”
But Kitten’s daily routine comes to end in January, as he begins his four-month sabbatical.
SPINNING A YARN
Kitten was born Friday March 13, 1931 in the middle of the Great Depression on a cotton farm in Slaton, Texas. His parents, August and Helen, had only $25 dollars in the bank and no money to pay the doctor who came to their home to deliver Kitten.
After he was delivered, his parents gave the doctor what they could: two chickens and the promise of naming the baby after the doctor, Marvin C. Overton.
Kitten lived within 15 miles of Cooper Rural High, a Baptist high school where he was one of three Catholics in the student body. The principal reprimanded him in front of the entire student body his senior year for being caught in the gym jitterbugging with friends.
“We were to dance in their presence and be eternally shamed and never dance again,” Kitten said. “But we put on a good show.”
Kitten went on to Texas Tech in Lubbock and majored in theoretical mathematics. He only knew two priests in his life: his parish priest and the moderator of a Catholic club on campus. “When I was at Texas Tech, Catholics were an endangered species,” Kitten said. His moderator proposed the idea that every Catholic male should give at least 20 minutes to reflect on the possibility of the priesthood. Kitten did his 20 minutes, then took a job with Geophysical Service Inc., in Dallas.
While working at Geophysical, his priest sent him letters regarding discernment towards the priesthood. “Like I was doing it, you know?” Kitten said in a lowered voice.
Then the company chose Kitten to go to Brazil for three years, proposing a raise and giving him four months to decide his future. Kitten let the offer hang. After three months of debating, his Catholic roommate addressed the issue. “He said, ‘Marvin, if this priesthood thing doesn’t leave your mind, you better check it out.’ I said OK. And so I’m still checking it out,” Kitten said with a smile.
Kitten told his boss he would not be taking the job and why. The personnel director, Bob Everett, responded by writing, “Dear Marvin, you have obviously taken leave of your senses. If you ever come back to sanity, let us know. We will pick you up where you left off.”
Then there was his girlfriend Margie, a senior at Tech. He quit his job and told Margie he was coming home, but he didn’t say why. He drove to Lubbock to visit her with a simple plan in mind.
“I would give her a big, big hug, cut right to the chase, and tell her exactly what had happened and what I was doing, which she knew nothing about at all. I also decided that because I’m not good with females crying, I got a big brown bag and put six of my favorite shirts in there. And I wrapped up the top tightly, and I said, I have a gift for you, please unwrap it. And as she did, I escaped,” Kitten said. “She always liked my shirts.”
After Kitten was ordained, he was assigned to a high school in Dallas. One day after Mass, while taking off his vestments in the sacristy, Margie appeared in the doorway. It had been 15 years since they had last seen each other. She said, “You can’t imagine how surprised I was to see you saying mass,” to which he replied, “You can’t imagine how surprised I am to have you watch me undress.” Her husband and family lived three blocks away, and she invited him over for dinner. They are still friends today. “So in a sense I didn’t lose her,” Kitten said.
WINDING DOWN
Students who seek out Kitten hear these yarns from his past. He also reminds them that the call to be a priest is bestowed by God. “For some strange reason God dropped this thing on me, and it’s a gift,” Kitten said.
Following his sabbatical, Kitten will be officially reassigned to an appointment beginning in the fall. He has grown so accustomed to college life that he is hoping for a placement in campus ministry. Spring Hill College, where Kitten spent his Katrina semester, does not have a priest on staff, so Kitten said he is keeping his eye on the nearby Jesuit school.
But for now, there is still one door that catches the eye on the 12th floor of Buddig. It is covered with Playbills of theater productions, from “Les Miserables” to “Oklahoma,” and is the home Kitten has known for the past 16 years.
The walls of his room are decorated with wedding photos of couples he has married, artwork of students he has guided, and even handmade gifts of gratitude. One wall features an embroidered antique quilt more than 200 years old. The walls of rodeo and prairie-themed hat racks show there will always be a bit of farm boy left in him. Kitten has come to realize that a lot of things he has accumulated over the years cannot be taken with him. He plans to give away a lot of the art and nick-knacks he has collected, because the memories and stories are what can never be erased.
In true Kitten fashion, he will soon say his cheerful goodbyes and be on his way to the next endeavor.
“It’s always sad to leave, but I know it’s time.”
Kayla August can be reached at [email protected].
