The Good Shepherd labors zealously for his flock in union with the bishop and
the pope; the Hired Hand impairs his office and his flock by disrespecting the
teaching office of the Church, and by neglecting his priestly responsibility to
form his people in “the obedience of faith” (Rom. 1,5).
A bishop pastor of a large city parish once instructed a new Chancery official,
undoubtedly to help the young man keep his Catholic priorities in order, as
follows:
“The linchpin of the Catholic Church is the pastor — the Pope in Rome, the
Bishop in his Cathedral, the shepherd of every diocesan parish. On these three
rest the well-being and Catholicity of the Church.”
Priests and laity of the World War II generation, as those who had gone before,
accepted this proposition as a Catholic given. Especially since historians had
attributed the strength of the American Church to the effectiveness of diocesan
bishops and parish priests of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Something happened to that concept on the way out of Vatican II, because two
years later the new National Conference of Catholic Bishops authorized a study,
published as The Catholic Priest in the United States: Historical
Investigations, whose index of 900 items totally failed to mention “parish,”
“parish priesthood” or “parochial work.”
Ever since, the phrase “Catholic pastor” has become an elusive term. The idea,
therefore, deserves another look, not only on behalf of the Church’s mission to
God’s people, but for its Catholicity.
The Bishop’s Point
The Catholic pastor — from John Paul II to every would-be imitator of the Curé
of Ars — is the central figure in the existence and conduct of the Catholic
Church. Any debasement of his status and dignity, including that by a priest
himself, jeopardizes the credibility of the Church.
Pope and bishops may contract with other qualified people to teach under Church
auspices, to succor the needy, and to manage her temporalities, but the pastor —
called simply “the parish priest” in many places — is irreplaceable, without
peer. Without him the Church cannot function legitimately or properly.
In a community of truly Catholic faith, the phrase “He is a priest” speaks
volumes to believers, and for the man himself. In a godless society (as the
Church understands God), the priest is looked upon as just another citizen with
a man-made job. Neither is he “sacred,” nor is there a “sacred” for him to
represent. At the worst, in the language of a virulent secularist, he is a
threat to modern society. John Paul II, in the opening lines of Pastores Dabo
Vobis, looks at him differently: “Without priests the Church would not be able
to live.”
The Second Vatican Council also reaffirmed the necessity of pastors in Lumen
Gentium when the Fathers declared that Christ, the Church’s “Eternal Pastor,”
established Peter at “the head of the apostles and set up in him a lasting and
visible source and foundation of the unity both of faith and of communion.” (No.
18). Furthermore, bishops are Vicars of Christ in their diocese, and “in virtue
of this power bishops have the sacred right and duty before the Lord of
legislating for and passing judgment on their subjects, as well as regulating
everything that concerns the good order of divine worship and of the
apostolate.” (No. 27). Priests, too, “exercise the function of Christ as Pastor
and Head in proportion to their share of authority.” (Presbytorum Ordinis, No.
6). The Council spoke of service, consultation, participation, collegiality as
elements in the proper exercise of his office, “but all Church documents are
careful to protect the authority of the pastor to act motu proprio as necessary
in order to teach, to rule, and to sanctify the faithful. The Fathers made clear
that a Pope is outside — and not a member of — his College of Cardinals, and the
local bishop is independent of his Board of Consultors. Arlington’s Bishop John
Keating, in urging parish councils in his diocese, also made the following
disclaimer for the pastors: “Pastors have certain responsibilities which are
theirs alone. They have duties which must be exercised personally in virtue of
the mission which they have from Christ in ordination and from the bishop
through their appointment as pastor.”2
The new Canon Law of the Church (1983), implementing Vatican II, specifically
states that the faithful “are bound by Christian obedience to follow what the
sacred pastors, as representatives of Christ, declare as teachers of the faith
or determine as leaders of the Church.” (Cn. 212). Those pastors alone, pope and
bishops especially, have “the supreme responsibility to teach, sanctify, and
rule the faithful in Christ’s name.” (Cn. 376).
The New Questions
Almost every interested Catholic, beginning with John Paul II, is today talking
about the shortage of priests. And about what their absence will do to the
future of the Catholic Church. Are there human causes of this crisis? Or, ways
to make the priesthood attractive again to young men, as surely it once was?
The pious look upon the shortage as a cross from God. But: How did the American
Church fall into this institutional morass?3 Fewer still are willing to probe
further: Why should a manly human being aspire to devote his entire life
celibately — to a Church role which, throughout the recent years of his boyhood,
has been denigrated, deflated, and debunked not only by those who reject the
very notion of priests, but within the Catholic sanctuary itself?
Reports of various kinds, including those of ecclesial bodies, attribute this
shortfall of priests to the collapse of Catholic discipline before the secular
culture. Or to moral failures of one kind or another within the Church. There is
truth in these assertions. Yet, historically, confusion or doubt about the faith
itself— either Christ’s teaching or the Church’s — is what undermines priestly
performance. Many bishops allege today that their serious problems involve
priests, not the laity. Furthermore, the believability of the priesthood comes
into question whenever questions arise in rectories over what Catholicity — the
papacy or the Eucharist — really means. Any overhaul of priestly thinking that
excludes Catholic faith and places self-anointed men solely in charge of
determining who God is and what he has revealed, or that stresses Christ the Man
virtually to the exclusion of Christ the Son of God, or speaks of the Church as
People more than as the House of God, or makes the priest more a delegate of the
community and less a Vicar of Christ, places the Church in trouble with God and
his people. Those popularizing such a new gospel would solve the present priest
problem by marrying them off, or by ordaining women, or by creating “lay
pastors.” Would these concessions to secularity motivate a potential Isaac
Jogues to leave his homeland and to die, if need be, for Christ?
The Way It Was Not Long Ago
No system or organization, even the priesthood, is ever perfect. Still, the
American parish may be “the highest achievement of the American priest,” as it
had been called in 1905.4
The special bonus of the Catholic system, which continued beyond World War II,
was the relative freedom of the pastor to run his own parish. It took a little
doing to make it so.5 But by the turn of the 20th century, the pastor was “a
little bishop,” whom cardinals treated with respect. For one thing he had
stability in office.6 For another bishops depended on pastors for support of
diocesan causes. Thirdly, the majority of veteran pastors, as “men of
authority,” also commanded large amounts of local loyalty, and bishops, as a
rule, had a healthy regard for the pastor’s “ordinary jurisdiction.” Pastors
were practically “irremovable,” except for grave cause. (The obvious
dysfunctions of any system — incompetent or lazy pastors — reflected not so much
on the system as on the bishop’s failure to use his authority to correct or
persuade his errant subordinates.)
In important respects, therefore, the office of pastor was insulated from undue
harassment or abuse by curates, by religious, or by laity prone to demand what
Church law or a pastor’s priorities said they could not have. Brooklyn’s
Archbishop Thomas Molloy may have overdone it a bit with his advisory to a
disgruntled curate: “The pastor is always right. You’ll be a pastor someday!”
The unhappy curate, principal, corporate executive or political “boss” of that
day might complain, or move elsewhere, but a pastor’s authority was rarely
undermined by his superior.
The underside of this 19th-20th century parochial success, however, was that
mega-parishes sometimes became status symbols and sinecures, more than missions.
Older priests came to enjoy the benefits of their predecessors’ labors, much the
way prelates savored benefices in the late Middle Ages. By the 1950s pastors had
ceased giving strict orders to their curates. They might propose tasks, or at
times express annoyance, even bark a bit, but by and large “laissez-faire”
became the order of the average pastorate. If the nuns did not wish the priests
to teach in the school, that was the end of the matter as far as certain pastors
were concerned. A handful of responsibilities were still mandatory, and widely
respected (e.g., Saturday confessions, rectory duties, parish events) but parish
priests were mostly on their own, unless they also had teaching or other
assignments. Parishioners came to them (home visitations were a thing of the
past), making many rectories busy places. And a function of being a good curate
was to protect the pastor from those burdens which transcended administration.
A pastor’s priority, which in 1910 was on “the work to be done,” shifted to what
the priests and others felt about the work in the post-World War II era,
especially if it seemed mandatory. The lazy priest was far more noticeable in
many rectories than violators of the Ten Commandments. A pastor could still
effectively ask for the removal of a curate, but he had little influence over
how much work the priest actually did in his house. Nonetheless, so many
first-rate parish priests were available everywhere that the “good” parishes
remained good.
“Laissez-faire” also extended to the bishop’s level. If no one disturbed him,
then he disturbed no one. Episcopal visitations became perfunctory, more like
social meetings than serious supervisions of pastoral performance. The
Superintendent of Schools was a more likely overseer of parochial education than
the bishop was of the priestly mission. The system continued to work well
because tending to the basics remained an ingrained sacred trust for most
priests: a decent worship, sound teaching, dutiful sacramental and social life,
exemplary behavior.
From the priests’ point of view, the most noticeable dysfunction amid such
ecclesial prosperity was the length of time required for those in large dioceses
to become pastors in their own right. In the 19th century, a priest might become
the pastor of a small parish in two or three years, and then be transferred to
the metropolitan area by the time he was 35. By World War I he might still
receive a large city parish in his early 40’s. At World War II time, he would be
almost thirty years ordained, or 55 years old, when he was called upon to govern
a rural parish. The pastoral care of the faithful sometimes suffered when a
curate, who had served a single city neighborhood for twenty or more years, was
passed over for succession in the pastorate there, in favor of a stranger,
because at 50 he was not old enough to merit the assignment. The over-aged
curates of the day were, however, too disciplined to be outraged at the
prevailing conditions, or at a bishop who was not creative enough to find
adequate remedies for an obvious evil. Their response, too often, was early
retirement from hard work. This situation set the stage, after Vatican II, for a
revolution in priestly expectations and behavior.
The Diminishing Status of Pastors
Any octogenarian priest who is still interested will find himself in
conversation these days with priests a generation younger who do not wish to be
pastors, or who already have abandoned the role. If he also moves around the
country, he will discover this to be more than a local phenomenon. The United
States may be too large for generalizing about the low morale of the clergy,
especially when so many young enthusiasts are evident in every diocese. Yet,
being “boss” of a parish is not what it used to be, either in its status or in
role-playing, a phenomenon new to the 20th century, during which practically all
priests, even the incompetents, yearned for the bishop’s call to pastor.
The tendency nowadays to correlate high morale with the ecclesial shift in
priestly style and manners, from sacred persons in cassock and Roman collar to
“hail-fellows-well-met” in secular clothes, is presumed to enhance self-esteem,
allegedly a prized step-stone to a more fulfilled life of Church service. But
how is self-esteem an adequate priestly goal when “emptying oneself” (Phil. 2,7)
is the New Testament model? Freedom, comfort, and shared authority have been
offered, too, as bonuses for the “renewed” priest, but for a pastoral role which
of its nature demands duty and sacrifice? Has the reinforcement of new American
spirit by new methods of training future priests or updating veterans really
worked to the Church’s advantage? Another factor complicating morale has been
the rising status of priest-specialists vis-a-vis parish priests out in the
field. Once bishops began to feature (and to honor) Chancery officials as the
important men in their lives, the pastors (certainly the curates) lost diocesan
status. Patrick Cardinal Hayes of New York (1918-1938) made bishops only of
active pastors, whereas his successor Francis Cardinal Spellman (1939-1967)
mostly promoted Chancery priests. As the Church’s bureaucracies grew, so did the
bishop’s reliance on what social scientist Charles Murray calls “the cognitive
elites.” After the New Deal, such elites were not without influence on secular
politics, but they were counterbalanced by the grass roots wisdom of “party
bosses” and district captains, much as — within the Church — seminary professors
and chancellors were offset by large numbers of dominant pastors.
Today, the pastor’s likely difficulties (or a priest’s) are his diminished Mass
attendance, the rising costs of maintaining Church agencies, the increasing
taxation or special collections imposed by diocesan headquarters, the absence of
well-trained American priests as curates, the plethora of foreign-born externs
who do not intend to establish roots or to Americanize, or the dearth of
religious, who once were “the heart” of parish life. The Church has recovered
from deprivation and poverty before, and so have disciplined priests of faith,
but this time it is not going to be easy.
The more pressing problem is that of the pastor or a priest (in communion with
his bishop) who is deeply mired in ambiguity about how far his authority extends
to decide the meaning of the word “Catholic;” or to determine, against
recalcitrant opposition, how his parochial community should normally worship,
believe, or live, or how much support he will receive from his bishop in doing
what the Pope says. Challenge to pastoral authority is the order of the present
day. The contestation may be expressed in “power-sharing” language, but it
really challenges the pastor’s fundamental authority. By training, a Catholic
pastor realizes the limits of his authority over unbelievers, non-believers, or
recalcitrant sinners, now he must face commonplace doubts about his doctrinal
and disciplinary authority over a community that is still described as “the
faithful.”7
The Post-Vatican II Revolution
The post-Vatican II decline in priestly/pastoral status began simply enough with
theories, proliferated throughout the Church’s infrastructures, that Catholic
doctrine had it wrong when it insisted that a priestly hierarchy is the
magisterial guarantor of God’s revealed Word, or that Christ appointed bishops
as governors of the Church. Catholics were commonly taught during the 1970s, in
college or seminary classes, that what the risen Christ likely had in mind as
his replacement was a congregation of followers who worshipped God and did good
works in his name. Not much more. Certainly not a community with a priestly
caste, or a Eucharistic sacrifice, or an ex opere operato sacramental system
celebrated only by priests, or moral absolutes taught by them. According to
Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger this revisionism, viz., that the Catholic Church is
largely a human construction, became a dangerous dubium to make its rounds at
the parish or school street level.8 A “humanly constructed” Christian community
might grow naturally, so the theorizing went, to need supervising “presbyters”
(i.e., a Greek word for “old men”), but hardly a divinely sent “Holy Father” in
Rome or anywhere else.9
This revolution was justified in the name of Vatican II which supposedly
decreed major accommodations to the demands of secular culture, in the hope of
an increased influence for the Church over worldly institutions, and the
enhancement of the quality of life on earth, particularly that of the poor and
the oppressed. Those who feared evil consequences from activating these
theories within the Church were called “prophets of doom.” Yet, the results have
been a diminution of Catholic faith and piety among large numbers of actual and
would-be Catholics, a proliferation of dissent against Catholic Creeds, and a
disobedience of Church Laws, to an extent proportionately unknown to America,
since the early days of its first bishops.
The American bishops sensed this post-Vatican II threat inherent in the theories
going around their dioceses as early as 1974. In preparation for the Third Roman
Synod, which resulted a year later in Paul VI’s deservedly famed Evangelii
Nuntiandi the NCCB sent its episcopal delegates to Rome with this advisory:
“The emerging question for the Catholic community may well be whether in the
future, as in the past, it derives its fundamental beliefs and attitude from the
traditional value system of Catholic Christianity or whether its beliefs and
attitudes will be drawn more and more from the secularistic, humanistic value
system around it.”10
Wrong Practice Makes Malpractice
The failure to perform the duties assigned to, and expected of, a public office
is malpractice. A certain amount of it goes on in families everywhere.
Determining the degree to which it must be in evidence before it becomes a
menace to society, involves human judgment of a non-infallible nature. Still,
like so many social conditions that cannot be defined empirically, people know
malpractice when they see it. Certainly, the Church of the United States is
worse off than it was in 1962, not because of anything the Council Fathers said
or wrote, but because their words were misinterpreted and misused and because
the authority that belongs to Pope and bishops was equivalently “hijacked” at
lower levels. Worse in the process, the public laws of the Church on worship,
doctrine, and discipline were violated with impunity.
As events unfolded, however, the local pastor today can do little about these
divisions, which appeared almost everywhere, except to exacerbate them, if he
was one of those priests inspired or trained to keep “pluralism” alive among
Catholics, after the manner of the Church of England. Although such divisions
are often presented as mere differences of opinion between “pluralists” (“the
best and the brightest”) and “fundamentalists” (“the narrow-minded”), the real
issue was, and is, the true meaning of the virtue of faith and its content.11 If
something contrary to faith, or at least indeterminate about faith, is taught or
done in violation of Canon Law at a neighboring parish or in the next diocese,
it is almost impossible to insist on universal Church norms of belief and
practice.
To the charge years ago that the Church was undergoing a “crisis of authority,”
Jesuit Cardinal Jean Danielou, himself a scholar, responded that the divisions
were due rather to the lack of the use of authority by bishops and by Rome. That
was his early post-Vatican II judgment. As years went by, the bishops actually
allowed their authority to be used to legitimize the status of “pluralists”
within the Church. They drew their preferred experts mainly from dissenting
professional associations. This not only gave status to dissenters, but it also
led to the quarantining of competent “defenders of the faith,” and excluded
these latter from having any serious influence on the trend of national
decisions by hierarchy.
The faithful pastor at the local level suffered from all of this, notably by
loss of authority over clergy who were trained in the new order, and over
religious who taught in his schools. This did not happen everywhere at first,
nor does it happen everywhere now, but significantly so across the country.
The process of debilitating the pastorate (and the parish priest, too) occurred
in many places in three stages:
1. By Bishops weakening motu proprio their own authority, that of Rome,
too, and of every pastor, whose office is only as effective as the Bishop’s.
2. By secularizing the priestly office.
3. By feminizing the Church.
1. Weakening Pastoral Authority
The year 1967 was a critical turning point. Cardinal Krol had it right: If
bishops, who owned the Catholic University of America, could not terminate the
employment of a non-tenured professor of only two years’ apprenticeship, what
was the use of being its Board of Trustees? Especially since Trustees at Yale or
Harvard were free to do precisely that, without having to explain why they did
it. In 1967, however, someone persuaded CUA’s Rector, and others, against their
better judgment, that letting Charles Curran’s contract expire would somehow be
un-American. Subsequently, Curran found the way to bring the bishops to heel by
organizing priests and religious, especially in the Washington, D.C. area, to
march on picket lines in protest against the very idea of bishops having
anything to say about the Catholic qualifications of a professor. The bishops
capitulated.
Cardinal Spellman said he was too old to get into another fight. Archbishop John
Dearden, newly elected President of the NCCB, was hardly an influence on behalf
of Rome, and his fellow Clevelander and friend, Atlanta’s Archbishop Paul
Hallinan, might even be called the main Curran partisan on CUA’s Board. Cardinal
Krol himself capitulated to his fellow bishops, wrong-headed though he thought
them to be. And Boston’s Richard Cardinal Cushing roared that he did not know
why bishops were involved at all, because they knew nothing about running a
University. (As if this was the principle under attack from the Curran faction.)
Later, Cardinal Patrick O’Boyle summed up the rout with the pithy line: “We ate
crow!”
Within weeks of that debacle the forces of autonomy against episcopal hegemony
gathered again. This time it was the Jesuit College presidents, and Notre Dame’s
President Theodore Hesburgh as their host, at Land O’ Lakes, Wisconsin (July 23,
1967), to declare the freedom of Catholic higher education from hierarchy’s
oversight. On October 14, 1967 the Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters followed
suit celebrating a “Charter Day,” whereon they declared that no longer would IHM
leadership permit Rome (or the local bishop) to determine “the essentials” of
the Church’s religious life. This community paved the way for the breakup of
convents and parochial schools all across the country. (When the Congregation
for Religious directed the IHMs to observe Roman norms, NCCB president Dearden
wrote to Paul VI against the letter’s sternness.) These autonomies of special
Catholic interests from papal and episcopal authority are more firmly in place
now than they were thirty years ago.
In the years between 1967 and 1982 American Catholics saw the growing use of
contraception among Catholics, the explosion of annulments, the wipeout of the
Sacrament of Penance, opposition to the General Catechetical Directory (as there
later was to the Universal Catechism), studies of both religious life and
seminary training which managed to paint an optimistic picture little resembling
the reality, and a host of disciplinary problems. Tensions developed early
between Rome’s universal norms and Episcopal Conferences which regularly sought
leeway in their application (e.g., dispensations or reinterpretations of what
was about to be promulgated in the new Code of Canon Law [1983], or in later
Apostolic Constitutions like Ex Corde Ecclesiae [1990], even on the English
translation [1993] of the new Catechism).
By 1982 the bishops in conference were ready to discuss “The Role of the Bishop
in the Contemporary Church,” which they did behind closed doors in Collegeville.
The then Archbishop James Hickey favored the consultation process inherent in
good government, a judgment with which anyone of sense would agree, but, he also
made clear that certain authoritative aspects of the Church were reserved to
Bishops alone, such as teaching in Christ’s name. He asserted that those who
“teach in the Church’s name” should be accredited by Church authority, as surely
as chemistry teachers were by the State. (These were points Paul VI had made
earlier.)
However, the prevailing voice of that meeting was John Cardinal Dearden, the
founding father of the American post-Vatican II ecclesiastical machinery.
Brought back from retirement to give the keynote, the Detroit Archbishop — in
contrast to Hickey — stressed almost exclusively the virtues of the “listening”
bishop, who shared responsibility and consulted. No reservations were indicated.
At one point in the address he jibed at the relationship of Rome with a National
Body of Bishops, by recalling Rome’s anxieties about the old NCWC (1919):
“We can smile at the reports drawn up during the stormy days when a small
delegation was endeavoring to save the NCWC from suppression. One quotation from
a report has these sentences: ‘They (i.e., the Holy See) are always talking
about the autonomy of a single bishop. It’s a smoke screen. What they mean is
that it is easier to deal with one bishop than with a hierarchy.’”12
Indeed, under Dearden’s administration of the NCCB (1966-1971), which had an
anti-Roman flavor characteristic of him, the episcopal “listening” favored the
Church’s pluralists, viz., those who held in disfavor many views of Roman
authority. Even a bishop-in-the-field could be called “absolutely stupid” by a
bishop-bureaucrat if he stood in the way of what became Washington priorities.
To this day official Catholic circles do not correlate the breakup of the
Church’s doctrinal unity, or the statistical declines, with policy decisions
made between 1966-1971, and reaffirmed thereafter year by year.
The national episcopal machinery was in such a hurry to make changes, some quite
dubious from the beginning, and so forcefully, that thirty years later, many
individual bishops feel bound to rubber-stamp decisions which make them unhappy.
After the November 1966 meeting, for example, Archbishop Elden F. Curtiss of
Omaha, discussing liturgical translations, summed up the mood: “We have been
fighting about this for several years and arguing and discussing it. We have
made our interventions and we tried to got a response. The body of bishops
generally wants to finish it and get on with it. So I think this is the reason
there has been so little debate.”13 In short, a small committee with “experts”
chosen by a few leaders tends to remain in command despite unrest among bishops
in the field.
What has this to do with pastors and parish priests? Such episcopal practice,
widely publicized, makes it seem that the local pastor, too, is not the final
word in his own jurisdiction, especially if he rejects the recommendation of a
parochial committee or council which considers itself independent of the pastor
in matters of Church governance. The average pastor today deals with priests,
religious, and laity who, by what they notice going on at large, no longer think
that a cleric, even if he is a Bishop, has any right to require acceptance of
what the Church prescribes about First Communion, general absolution, or
liturgical norms, or teaches about worthy concelebration or communion, marital
responsibility, or “the Catholic conscience.” If some of those who have enjoyed
“consultant” status at the national level, say that bishops no longer control
the Church’s highways and byways, what makes a parish priest feel important?
“Reformers” have come to think that they represent the Holy Spirit refashioning
a Church that never should have come to be in the first place.
In some respects, the secular world has succeeded in turning the Church upside
down. Ever since the Freudians and Rogerians came to dominate the culture with
their stress on the subjective, and to make personal feelings the important
elements in the determination of truth, in the formation of character, or of
good citizenship, and ever since hierarchical structures came to be looked upon
as instruments of oppression, or “guilt machines,” the officers of secular
society have courted the unhappy and the discontented more than those seeking
only to do what is objectively good. In recent years censure has gone out of
favor, unless the wrongdoing offends the secular agenda. This ideology has
achieved great influence today on the governance of Catholic institutions, where
obedience to Church-Law is not necessarily a high priority, and when the demands
of ecclesial authority are deemed to be politically incorrect by secular
standards. If many of the best and brightest Americans now eschew vital civic
roles because the world in which government officials must function is morally
topsy-turvy, it should not be surprising that a pastorate fashioned in the
secular mode is not the desirable thing it once was.
2. Secularizing the Priestly Office
“Come Follow Me” was an invitation for The Twelve to undertake Christ’s
redemptive mission to God’s people. Their relationship from the beginning was
patriarchal/filial, just about what He meant when He spoke of “my” or of “your”
heavenly Father. Many latter-day Christians will have none of this traditional
understanding of the priesthood, in part because it suggests dependence on the
arbitrary will of someone else, or on a lack of self-determination. In their
mind it is also opposed to the contemporary plurality of interpretations of
God’s alleged Word about ministry. Such views are old news to the Church,
although rarely expressed in modern times until the post-World War II period.
By then American priests were enjoying more of life’s comforts than their lay
counterparts, more than their predecessors. Not simply because of their “star
status” in every neighborhood, but because of improved rectories and a new
freedom of operation. (Priests were, however, no more exempt from the crosses of
life than others.) Celibacy in those generations was not the cause of crisis the
secular world makes it today. Busy priests had little time, then, to feel sorry
for themselves, and knew where to go for help, even to the bishop or the vicar
general, who were usually solicitous for every priest’s well-being.
Almost without careful estimate of what hasty change could do to the status and
mission of parish priests, bishops introduced terms of office, personnel boards,
multiple discussion groups, preferential options, salary emoluments, leaves of
absence, and so forth. These perquisites were presented as real answers to
oft-expressed personal problems (e.g. over faith and/or being under authority),
which all people experience at some time or another under any system.
Concessions, however, never seemed to help some priests. Almost immediately,
curates became harder to handle once they were made “associates” (no matter the
age), no longer “assistants.” (In the professional world, an “associate” earns
his status over time.) The strange aspect of this “modernization” is that,
although these proposals were given by priests’ councils as options, bishops
often followed them as bounden duty. One Archbishop, succeeding to a See where
“terms of office” did not exist, refused to introduce them because he looked
upon the oversight of all diocesan pastoral needs, and of priests especially, as
his personal responsibility. Another bishop told his 75-year-old pastors that he
would speak with the Pope about compulsory retirement, not adverting to the fact
that he, no less than the Pope, need not accept a priest’s compulsory “letter of
resignation.” More than a few priests, arriving in the pastor’s chair in their
50’s, were forced out in their 60’s to start all over again, in an entirely new
place, denied the opportunity to enjoy the harvest they had sown.
If currying favor with the bishop was the earlier way to gain a good assignment,
or to escape an unpleasant one, the new game involved playing the politics of
the “Personnel Board,” whose well-intentioned and apostolic-minded members often
had their own agendas for the diocese.
While “checks and balances” between centers of political power, or “divided
government,” as it is sometimes called, represents enlightened political wisdom,
there is no philosophical or ecclesiological principle, let alone empirical
evidence, which verifies that a “committee system” is proper for, or superior
to, patriarchy (or matriarchy) in the management of a family, or Christ’s
Church. A Church that claims that her hierarchy is of divine institution must be
careful about a “committee” tampering with a pastor’s office, or his staff,
without his knowledge. A “Personnel Committee” which supplies a bishop with
information he might not otherwise have, is a procedural improvement. A
“Personnel Board,” which manages the bishop’s priest placement process, stands
between a pastor and his bishop (or vicar general), after the manner of a
corporate enterprise.
At ordination a priest gives himself in “reverence” and “obedience” into the
hands of the bishop alone. To obey a bishop is more in accord with that
commitment than to obey a Committee or a staff officer who would have a pastor
bow to the Chancery’s prudential judgment on free matters. In former days a
Chancellor would permit the pastor to decide whether “a suicide” was entitled to
Christian burial. A father-son relationship with a bishop may not make priestly
morale in a diocese better, but it does maintain a certain sacredness between
the two that cannot be realized through a negotiating committee. Nor do we hear
that the present abundance of committees raises priestly morale. The contrary
seems to be true. Employment practices borrowed from a modified capitalistic
enterprise (where making or dividing money is the objective), designed to mute
class distinctions, or instill a sense of self-fulfillment in subordinates, and
improve corporate productivity, are not exactly what should define the kinship
of a father with his son. These devices by themselves are unconnected with
“self-sacrifice,” “obedience,” or priestly “mission.” In fact, they more often
take away from the priesthood the very qualities required for exercising a
sacred vocation properly and for finding satisfaction with it.
3. The Feminization of the Church
One of the more disparaging statements made about religion, even of Catholicity,
is that it is mostly a women’s work. It is so by the nature of femininity, some
would argue. Cursory observations of Catholic life in many countries of Europe
lend prima facie support to this theory. The fact that such an assertion has
never been made convincingly about the Church in the United States is testimony
to the well-rounded formation of Catholic character here by American bishops and
their priests.
Before God, men are no less bound to His worship than women, nor are they less
obligated than women to obey His Laws and those of the Church. Neither in the
order of grace nor of nature are men dispensed from fulfilling the different
roles that God has ordained for them. God shows no partiality here. Radical
feminism, whatever its role in reducing sexuality to sex or in weakening the
link between womanliness and marriage, or with motherhood, clearly seeks to
unseat men as authority figures. The feminist campaign targets are not just
fathers of the household, but priests of the Church as well, especially the Holy
Father. God as Father of the human family might even be the ultimate object for
a fall.
Men and women are often defined today as male and female, without reference to
their fatherhood or motherhood; in radical feminist circles marriage is often
mentioned without its natural link to parenthood, or even to heterosexuality.
Such feminism associates authority with mere power, not with God’s truth or
right. Its partisans seek parity of political power with men, perhaps even more
power, although domestic and maternal ties will always place limits on the
political entanglements of most women. Their irreplaceable motherly presence in
society can never find a fitting substitute in males.
Although extreme sexual formulations can hardly be defended within the Church,
feminism nonetheless has impacted negatively on the conduct of pastors, even of
bishops. By pursuing the ordination of women with social force, in spite of
explicit magisterial teaching, its protagonists tend to eviscerate the term
“shepherd” of its Christ-like meaning. This destructive privilege was reserved
in earlier centuries only to unbelievers, heretics or schismatics.
Today, pastors tiptoe around the feminist issues (so do official documents), by
frequently placing unconditioned emphasis on women’s rights without
corresponding reference to their Christian duties, and seemingly join the chorus
of those who oppose discriminating judgment about sexual roles in the
marketplace, in public service, in the worship of God, or even within marriage.
Motherhood and fatherhood are rarely discussed in depth. References to the
indignities heaped by feminists on manhood or on good men are never heard, while
silence over the lack of respect frequently shown to fathers in mother-dominated
households, merely reinforces the impression that women per se are victims, and
men somewhat unworthy of respect for the role most of them exercise responsibly.
A great deal of rhetoric in this vein is sometimes expressed at Bishops’
meetings. The suggestion occasionally appears that women would be more
comfortable with the Church if more of their numbers were diocesan pastors,
chancellors, or tribunal judges; if hierarchy only reeducated their priests
accordingly, or persuaded Rome to overcome its outdated attitudes by conferring
priestly jurisdiction on those without holy orders.14 In Catholic circles
discussion of this subject turns at times into a rally for a secular political
judgment, rather than a search for the correct fulfillment of Christian
Revelation.
These thorny issues are not going to be resolved by the Church as long as they
remain political; nor as long as the only correct answer seems to be to divide
the priesthood in Solomonic fashion between so-called chauvinist men and
feminist women; nor as if the absolute demands of God’s word as the Church
understands it are not the framework within which sincere believers work out how
best to do what God wants them to do. St. Paul, in spite of his dismissal as an
authority on matters sexual, speaks more wisely on this subject than his
critics. Those who would rewrite Ephesians 5, find it is easy to grant that in
modernity, free or not, it is appropriate to remind husbands (as if God is
demanding it) to “love your wives” (since men tend to be careless in this
regard); but inappropriate to remind wives to “obey” or “be subject” to their
husbands in the proper place and time? Good women do this all the time, even as
chauvinist ‘Enry ‘Iggins reminded his [My] Fair Lady of her special tendency to
“do precisely what she wants!”
The secular world cannot be held to account for its double-standards, or for its
hypocrisy, because it no longer believes that words ever mean absolutely what
they say (e.g., “until death do us part”), or because ambiguity and equivocation
are acceptable, if carried on for a politically correct cause. The Church,
however, may not permit her sacred institutions — marriage and the priesthood
being only two — to appear as man-made constructs, rather than as the God-given
supernatural realities they are. She does not allow this to happen, at least not
among her own, when she is sure of herself. In 1930, for example, Pius XI had no
trouble articulating the role of fatherhood: “If the husband is the head of the
domestic family, then the wife is the heart, and as the first holds the primacy
of authority, so the second can and ought to claim the primacy of love.”15
Even when new questions arise about the Sacraments, Church teaching remains
constant, however the language or arguments are modified. Canon 521 of the New
Code speaks simply: “To assume the office of pastor one must be in the sacred
order of the presbyterate.” Canon 517 says such authority can be shared but if,
due to the shortage of priests, “the pastoral care of a parish” is entrusted “to
some other person,” even a deacon, the bishop is to “appoint a priest endowed
with the powers and faculties of a pastor to supervise the pastoral care.”
It is this determination of the Church to hold fast to the revealed realities
upon which its very nature and the Word of God is based, which “reformers” seek
to erode. “Change the Church’s practice and the Church’s teaching will change,”
was a principle of revolution enunciated early by the likes of Hans Kung and
Associates. Under this rubric began simulated concelebration of Mass with the
non-ordained (or non-Catholic ministers), Eucharistic reception without
absolution from mortal sin, general absolution as licit apart from personal
confession of sins, declarations of nullity for valid marriages, ambiguous
translations of biblical “hard sayings,” secularized religious life, women as
administrators of parishes (with a priest as curate), and so forth.
Tearing down the walls around that exclusive “man’s world” in the Church and
making the definition of priesthood sexually neutral is the latest assault on
Catholic doctrine. Already 80 percent of the laity engaged in Church ministry
are women, according to one bishop addressing a national meeting of his peers
(1996). How rarely do churchgoers see a man in the role of their parish’s
Eucharistic minister? The Catholic Theological Society of America (in a 1996
convention report) deduces that John Paul II’s belated approval of altar girls
is a theological harbinger of women priests to come. Is it?
The First World has been moving towards unisex for a half century, and towards a
femininized culture in which women will be honored if they are less than truly
feminine, or if they limit their motherly role in their daily life. John Paul II
warned about the pitfalls of that feminism which encouraged “a renunciation of
femininity” or an “imitation of the male role.” Such an ideology may please
“iron ladies” who seemingly never appear lovable, but it also repudiates the
street wisdom that says that working women prefer men bosses. Apart from the
homosexual implications of unisex, a “disorder” of nature ab initio,
“women-power” does not necessarily beget “women influence,” especially if “iron
ladies” are its chief witnesses. The complimentary masculine/feminine structures
of the Judaeo-Christian tradition may have bestowed power on men to wage wars,
to levy taxes, and to gain a great deal of attention from history buffs. Still,
mothers, the child-bearers, the nurses, the teachers, and the nuns, are the ones
who mostly ran the world of the streets, where human beings learned how to be
human, a lesson many children no longer learn.
In post-World War II Catholic circles, a man, challenged to prove that he was
“the head of the house,” was commonly caricatured as defending his superiority
in this way: “I make all the big decisions, she makes the little ones. She
determines where we live, where the kids go to school, and what we eat. I decide
whether Russia should be allowed into the United Nations, or whether the A.F.L.
should merge with the C.I.O.” That crack contained more of the real world than
sexists, male or female, would like to admit. The eternal question remains: Does
the battle of the sexes really exist? Obviously, from the time of Adam and Eve,
with women, usually mothers, winning more often than the radical feminists want
youngsters to know. If the children of Catholic immigrants once credited the
Church with their social success, chances are that this or that local pastor
received honorable mention for the accomplishment. But, more commonly, it was
“the nuns” — and mothers in the home — who were the greater influence during
husband’s and children’s formative years, a power of women over people more
significant than any man’s power over things. (This was so noticeable by 1950
that Philip Wylie made a national reputation decrying the putative ill-effects
of “Momism.”)
The Church cannot control the reigning ideologies of the secular order, but by
now she ought to know how to handle her own false prophets. If the purpose of
temporizing with those Catholics who have a “conscious bias” against the
priesthood (John Paul II’s term) is to effectuate their conversion, the effort
is failing. New priests are not only fewer, but the morale of the “reformed”
clergy has never been lower, if reports of the NCCB (1989) or the National
Catholic Educational Association (1990) are correct. Martin Luther denigrated
the ruling role of the priest with his line “we are all consecrated priests by
baptism,” but the modern issue is whether he, as “the man of the Eucharist”
(John Paul II’s term), is Christ’s vicar in the apostolate of redemption and
salvation. Even the appearance of compromise over the manhood of the priesthood
is bound to raise the next questions: Whether the priesthood has direct
connection with Christ; whether Christ is really present in the Church or in the
Sacrifice of the Mass.
Pastores Dabo Vobis and the Faith Problem
That something should be done about these matters is obvious to John Paul II
who, when he wrote Pastores Dabo Vobis in 1992, took note of the depth of the
crisis over the priesthood from early Vatican II days, and the marked difference
in the kind of priests who were appearing on the scene then, as compared to
thirty years earlier. Even though his problems are similar to those of his
predecessors from earlier centuries, this pope is not expected to do anything
impetuous.
During the 14th century days of Urban VI (1378-1389), the Church was in decline
because ecclesiastics had allowed themselves to be held hostage by underlings or
politicians. Princes wanted less Church influence on the conduct of States,
French Cardinals (and the King) kept the Pope in Avignon and out of Rome for
seventy years. Freewheeling clerics, then, fixed their eyes more on money than
on souls. University personnel (e.g. Paris’ John Gerson) argued that Christ’s
authority was vested in the Church’s people, not in the Pope, and therefore
exercisable without necessary reference to the apostolic patrimony. During this
so-called “Avignon Captivity,” according to Philip Hughes, hierarchy surrendered
their rights and jurisdiction “wholesale,” authority which their predecessors
valiantly fought to have recognized in the public arena.16
History never quite repeats itself, of course. Catholic kings are not around
anymore to threaten prelates. Only, the officers of the secular State have a
grim, if subtle, way of burying the Church behind her own walls, while they
reach over bishops to change the minds of people about religion. The modern
State is insidiously antithetical to Catholic piety, a virtue that every pastor
must cherish. Its “cognitive elites,” including Catholics, are prone nowadays,
as they were in the days of imperial Christianity, of Conciliarism, of
Protestantism, or of Gallicanism, to propose marriage of the Church to the
reigning State, a temptation prelates of old found hard to resist. But as one
sage reminded them: “If the Church marries herself to any era, she’ll soon be a
widow.” Why? Because she stands outside and above secular culture of any kind,
even one of her own making. When certain popes mistakenly thought they should
dominate the State because they were Vicars of Christ, their successors felt the
force of State power seeking to fit the sacred into its secular mold. Whenever
the State trivializes capital sins or makes trivial sins capital, the Church has
lost. Masters of secularity think that the idea of sin (an offense against God)
is just about as ridiculous as the idea of God becoming man to redeem the world.
What has this to do with pastors? If the decline in congregational faith among
Protestants is a paradigm, then it was the “treason of clerics” which brought it
about, as Anglican priest-theologian Eric Mascall was wont to say.17 Mascall saw
the process at work among Catholics after Vatican II, in the willingness of
“enlightened clerics” to spread a view of Christ as one who is not our God nor
our teacher, and to explain Christian events rationalistically, as if the
explanations provided by the Apostles, Evangelists, Fathers of the Church, or
the Magisterium of the Apostolic Successors, were intellectually incompetent.
The loss of faith in the real Christ, and in the Church as his real sacramental
presence, began in her heartland after the recent Council — within those houses
of learning and formation entrusted with the initial and ongoing training of
priests and religious. The results of the treason were symbolized almost
overnight in little things. Bishops continued to wear cassocks, but many younger
priests divested themselves of clerical clothing, almost as rapidly as younger
religious women exchanged community garb for secular attire. Then, came the
priestly downgrading and the belittling of those pious practices which, while
not the necessary effects of faith, do reflect the efforts of earlier priests to
keep God’s presence felt in the lives of their faithful: holy water fonts at the
entrance to a Catholic home, bowing the head or signing the cross as one passed
a Church, blessings of new mothers and their infants, Benediction and adoration
of the Blessed Sacrament, devotional novenas to Our Lady and the Saints,
scapulars, etc. In due course, as these pious practices fell into disuse, there
followed Mass without vestments or creeds, Holy Communion to habitual sinners
and non-Catholics, dissoluble marriages, and the end of confessional lines, just
about the time that large Catholic families disappeared. When the flight of
religious from religion began, colleges, too, founded by a saint or a living
martyr from one of America’s great communities, muted their Catholic identity.
Or, like the twenty in New York, had themselves declared by the State
nondenominational and no longer juridically Catholic. These shortfalls were not
sanctioned by Vatican II, yet they were frequently claimed as legitimate fruits
of the Council, especially the result of the Church’s “openness” to the world on
rational terms, and to autonomous decision-making below the level of pastors’
jurisdiction — and, therefore, no need of pastors. Many years ago an obscure
academic, reviewing Karl Rahner’s theological superiority over the German
bishops, recapped a new elitist view of Catholicity:
Openness means facing the deep religious problems of contemporary life —
acknowledging, for example, that it is not easy to say exactly what “God” means
today. To say whether the orthodox formulas are not mainly empty and to say
precisely when love of neighbor is not sufficient religion. Similarly, we have
no adequate ecclesiology for the increasing number who are “selective” in their
faith, who cling to some doctrines and reject others. We are already an
ecumenical Church, in the sense that we are solidly pluralistic. If we are
courageous enough to accept organizational and doctrinal pluralism more
forthrightly, letting more ways of following Christ just be and interact, we
could really start to think of ourselves as united.18
Most Evangelical Protestants would reject this inane logic, which divests the
creeds and Church teaching of meaning, and reduces the sacramental system to a
series of empty rituals or superstitious acts. For Catholics who think this way,
St. Paul’s “one Faith, one Lord, one Baptism” (Eph. 4:5) no longer endures as a
rule of faith. The right of the Church to vivify these three aspects of
authentic Christianity — unilaterally through pastors — is denied. The
faith-problem transcends any failure in the human governance of Christ’s Church.
In Summary
The critical questions facing all contemporary Catholic pastors are two:
(1) How much of the faith preached by the Vicar of Christ can their parishioners
believe, in view of the way bishops or pastors are often contested in their
household, or by the quality of parish life they are likely to hand on to their
successors if the present divisions continue; (2) How can that discipleship
which characterized the American Church through most of the 20th century be
restored, that which is consistent with mind of Him who told His first
followers, “If you live according to my teaching you are truly my disciples.”
(Jn. 8:31).
Doctrinal purity and discipleship go together, injury to one weakens the other,
hardly a desirable condition for the Mystical Body of Christ.
Deny it as many may, contradictory pluralism on matters of faith and morals is
entrenched in the post-Vatican II Church, and a form of heresy. A kind of Treaty
of Westphalia now rules in the United States; the quality of the Catholicity in
a given place depending on who is in charge of the local Catholic community. In
1648, after a Thirty Years’ War between Catholic and Protestant princes,
Europe’s political leaders decided to give civil legitimacy to the religion
professed by the local reigning prince or duke. Cujus regio, ejus religio.
Identify the prince of a place, and the people’s religion was officially
predetermined. This Solomonic solution was denounced by believing Protestants,
while Pope Innocent X (1644-1655) excoriated it as “null, worthless, iniquitous,
frivolous and without authority!” Yet Westphalia was nothing more than statutory
recognition by politicians of religious pluralism over which popes and bishops
no longer had any say. Henceforth, Church membership was to be a private affair,
doctrines were of no social significance, and the secular State became, in
effect, the arbiter of religion whenever Churches were unwise enough to intrude
on the public square.
Princes of the realm no longer exist in the West with power to seize
monasteries, or send a bishop to the Tower for head surgery, or imprison a pope.
The Church’s privileged place in secular society was lost at Westphalia, but
bishops at least were left free to deal with the Church’s own, at least in
theory. New “princes” were bound to arise notably in the academy of Germany for
the Protestant Church, but also within Catholicity on the Continent. In those
years the caretakers of the Church at any given time often lacked the fervor of
their Jansenist enemies, or the intellectual/polemical skills of a pagan
Voltaire, or the will-to-win of a politically determined Bismarck.
Something of the kind has been going on in the modern Church. A different kind
of Catholicity has unfolded in various segments of the Church, depending on who
controls a specific place — a pastor, a prior, a college president, and so forth
— with bishops no longer having a firm hold on the consciences of Catholics.
This veritable revolution in the United States institutionalizes a nominal
Catholicity here for the first time, one that has long been a characteristic of
“Catholic” countries in Europe.
A social scientist, asked to comment on the present state of the Church, might
express surprise that anyone is upset by this turn of events. Changes in types
of government and in ruling classes go on all the time, he would say. Vilfred
Pareto dubbed this as the “circulation of elites,” a Machiavellian case of
“foxes” in a nation’s political structure outsmarting the “lions” in power, or
of the latter eventually running over the former. In this theory, revolution was
likely to appear at critical points of history, when “the ins” miscalculated the
popular support enjoyed by “the unfriendly outs.” The Pareto analysis claims to
explain the dissolution of the Roman Empire, why republics replace monarchies,
or how democracies end up totalitarian. It suggests, too, that a fox-like
“cleverness” in politics, exercised at the right moment, prevails over the sheer
“strength” of officeholders, as symbolized by lions, and has a certain relevancy
to secular governance, whose main function is to create or maintain order within
a country, and to defend people against outside enemies.
The Catholic Church, however, has been created to sustain much more than social
peace. She was ordained to instill the Word of God among men, and to engender
sanctity at least among her own. Granted that, as a human institution, a certain
discipline is necessary in order that this be done effectively, but the message
matters for the Church, not the social process. And to protect the gospel and
the creed she may call on the disciplinary customs of an age or draw on the
wisdom of her own tradition.
Whether secular society likes it or not, or particular Catholics either,
Christ’s mission has been entrusted to consecrated priests. John Paul II
insists: “Without priests the Church would not be able to live!” In the pursuit
of their vocation, therefore, in the Pareto scheme, priests must be both
“clever” and “strong.” When they are “foxes” to the exclusion of their
“lion-like” qualities, “the message” becomes blurred.
A “Treaty of Westphalia” situation cannot long continue in the United States
without the witness of the Catholic Church to Christ’s mission becoming
irrelevant to the lives of her own people. Nominal Catholicity will replace the
deep Catholic piety of those trained in the unified American Church of the
earlier 20th century.
What can Catholics do about this crisis?
Renewing the Pastor’s Role
The renewal of priestly status in the Church, the reaffirmation of the parish
priest’s role and authority, and the reversal of the downward trend in seminary
enrollments, is a top priority for action by pope and bishops. Part of the
process involves scholarly restatements of the Catholic tradition, going back to
apostolic times, and orchestrated recalls also of saintly testimony about
priests. But re-enhancement of the office in the lives of priests themselves is
also essential. The sacredness of the priestly vocation demands it. If a priest
is a vicar of Christ, he must learn to think as such.
To reinforce priests in this endeavor, however, structures must be developed,
beginning at the seminary level. It is worth recalling that sound doctrinal and
moral formation, episcopal supervision, rectory living, and wearing cassocks or
Roman collars, for example, only followed long centuries of poor training and
unworthy priests.
Some steps to consider:
1. As a beginning, recognition by the American body of bishops that the root of
the Church’s priestly crisis is in a widespread loss of faith in the Church’s
creedal propositions and, therefore, in the credibility of the Church herself.
The surrounding culture, more worldly or earthbound than ever before, is partly
to blame, but that hardly excuses the scandals within the Church, sins against
the faith being the most notorious. Invitations to sin were first extended to
those living a fruitful marriage, only later to those engaged in a
self-sacrificing priesthood.
2. The process of recovery from any problematic situation usually originates in
the prudent but unapologetic use of their legislative, judicial, and executive
authority. Bishops, for example, are not supplicants before civil magistrates,
certainly not before their own elites, but vicars of Christ, men who speak in
His name and share His authority.
Unequivocable re-affirmations of the doctrinal teachings of Christ and the
Church, especially those which are misrepresented in the public forum, or
neglected, are appropriate.
In the hostile environment they face, bishops are impelled to dispute, refute,
and confront, publicly as necessary, those who lead the faithful astray on
matters of doctrine, or threaten the Church’s well-being or reputation by their
disobedience, insofar as they are guarantors of what is taught under the
auspices of the Church, and in every institution which uses the Cross of Christ
as its identifying feature. The Holy See expects the Catechism of the Catholic
Church to be the authoritative norm against which worship, teaching, and parish
life are to be judged.
Only those who have a measurable record of fidelity to the Church’s teaching
office and to her vicars are eligible for appointment to diocesan office, or to
become consultors, or be featured or honored by ecclesial authority, with the
understanding that these offices or honors are held in trust at the pleasure of
the responsible Church authority.
3. The Holy See contributes to this process of rebuilding respect for the
Church’s pastors by appointing to episcopal office, or promoting, only those
bishops with the demonstrated ability to govern the Church as Canon Law
specifies, and their personal history of governance vindicates, and the special
needs of the ecclesial situation.
4. The Holy See insists, once universal policy or law is established, that
National Conferences of Bishops apply the policy or law, without equivocation,
ambiguity, or benign neglect by a diocesan bishop within his own jurisdiction,
especially as it applies to the worship of God, the administration of the
sacraments, and the Catholic reputation of the Church.
5. The Holy See oversees Roman institutes of learning and of seminary training,
so that these remain models for bishops and major superiors of how the Church’s
universal norms are to be implemented, and how Catholic institutions are to be
managed.
6. Diocesan Ordinaries review all policies and practices already in place to
insure that they enhance the sacred status of pastors and of parish priests in
general. These priests must be properly trained and supported for the vital
roles they play. Any custom that secularizes their divinely conferred status and
role should be reversed.
As the abuses of the post-Vatican II years mounted, one American Cardinal had
reason to instruct the Apostolic Delegate — “You clean up the mess in Rome, and
I’ll clean up my Archdiocese!” Reform, whatever its inspiration, is accomplished
only through the proper laws with sensible enforcement of a society’s highest
authorities.
The scandals of recent years are due mainly to the fact that those whom Peter
and Paul called evildoers have often been indulged or even rewarded, while the
faithful sons and daughters have been ignored or discounted. The disorder, most
noticeable of all, has been the fraternal relationship that developed between
Church bureaucracies and notorious dissenting bodies within religious and
academic communities. On the other hand, rarely is an apology tendered for the
hurt inflicted by a bishop who removed a good pastor after four decades of
service for being strict on decorum during worship, on the theologian forced out
of his university tenure for criticizing some of his Community “leadership” (a
post he could retain if he left the Order), on the university president forced
to retire when dissenters became the dominant force in his Congregation, on the
priest who never recovered his parish although the Holy See directed the bishop
otherwise, on the theologian denied a seminary post because he was considered a
papalist, or a faithful journalist terminated as editor of a diocesan newspaper
because a timid bishop caved into pressure from a handful of priests, no less.
These are only a few of the wrongs that have been perpetrated on the Church’s
faithful by one or another officeholder, with hardly a thought within the
community of defending the righteous against the misuse of office by the
unrighteous. What was once called “the blackboard jungle syndrome” in major
cities came to prevail, once students (some commentators called them hoodlums)
took the peaceful management of public education in metropolitan areas away from
their teachers and the Municipal Fathers. The office of pastor suffers similarly
whenever Catholic antiestablishment figures ignore the legitimate directives of
bishops or refuse to obey, or make threats against his governance, or disdain
the office publicly even when they do what Church law requires. Once
unchallenged or uncorrected, such misconduct radiates throughout a parish or a
diocese.
Being a man of authority, or a woman, is as much a matter of presence, as of
decision. Great leaders and grand dames exude presence. No one underestimates
who they are. At the end of the 19th century, Gilbert Keith Chesterton, still
not a Catholic, was so stunned one rainy Sunday by the dignity of Westminster’s
Cardinal Henry Edward Manning as he stepped out of his carriage to enter a
Church, that he took little note of his finery, only the man. After World War I
the British Prime Minister so respected the potential impact of Melbourne’s
Archbishop Daniel Mannix on the Irish Question that he sent two destroyers to
remove the prelate from a Cunard liner on his way home to his dying mother in
Ireland; the fear was that he might cause more trouble than the Empire cared to
face. In the 1930s when Patrick Cardinal Hayes walked down the middle aisle of
his Cathedral, the churchgoers automatically fell to their knees to gain the
full benefits of his blessing. During the 1940s the publisher of the
Philadelphia Enquirer and other journalists treated Dennis Dougherty with the
utmost respect because they learned from his posture — and his known way of
defending his flock against unfair media treatment — that this Cardinal was not
to be taken lightly. These men were the personification of their authority and
were respected for their Church role, even by those who did not like them. They
knew who they were and so did everyone else. Religious superiors and college
presidents bowed in their direction, not the other way around.
Reform, according to the authentic norms of Vatican II, begins when all
Catholics, including pastors, recognize that the present crisis begins with lack
of supernatural faith in the truths of the Church as expressed in her ordinary
teaching, and ends in disobedience of the Pope and the bishops in union with
him. Our crisis, therefore, is not one of exhaustion from a frustrating contest
between tradition and modernity, liberals and conservatives, Americans and
Romans, as it is sometimes made out to be. It results from a lack of virtue
within the Catholic community, and perhaps from God’s displeasure.
As long as the crisis continues, it is incumbent on those who have full
confidence in the “faith of our fathers” to continue witnessing their faith
boldly. By so doing they will suffer, as St. Athanasius did in the 4th century
at the hands of Arian confreres, as Thomas More and John Fisher did a millennium
later under England’s headhunting Henry VIII, as the Curé of Ars did in
post-French Revolution days when bishops seemed more nationalist than Catholic,
and as St. Elizabeth Seton did from the Protestant crusade against her newfound
faith. Who else will?
Believing Catholics will reject the pessimism of those who think that the battle
for the American Church has been lost, or of those who confront the present
controversies more in anger than with hope in God’s Providence. The faithful
certainly must continue their efforts to regain assent and obedience as
attributes of the Church body, until pastors are once more able to teach, rule,
and sanctify as Catholic wisdom ordains. Only under those circumstances, and
with God’s help, will the Church of the United States have once more the
quantity and quality of priests the “faith of our fathers” engendered.
Of course, nothing is perfect within the Body of Christ as long as human beings
are part of it. But that does not mean that the Church lacks a sacred nature,
its priests too, or that seeking perfection in this life is not her raison
d’etre. Henri De Lubac had it right:
The Church which we call our Mother is not some ideal unreal Church but this
hierarchical Church itself; not the Church as we might dream her but the Church
as she exists in fact, here and now. Thus the obedience which we pledge her in
the persons of those who rule cannot be anything but a filial obedience.19
These words are meaningless if the contumaciously disobedient or the scandalous
sinners, especially consecrated religious persons, dominate Catholic sanctuaries
or the designated halls of learning the faith; and if the faithful, including
priests, are left to shift for themselves in their quest for holiness and
eternal salvation. The gates of hell are prevailing, at least momentarily, when
pastors watch the Church overrun by norms and sanctions invented by the Secular
State to keep God in his heaven, and to mute Christ’s presence in the Church’s
public square. Since the princes of academe now take pride in their secularity,
as the princes of the realm once did, it is incumbent on the Pope with his
bishops to restore the priesthood, the pastorate especially, to its full dignity
and authority, leaving to practicing Catholics, taught and inspired by such
priests, to bear such witness to the faith that the altars and the pulpits of
the 21st century will be filled to overflowing with worthy Vicars of Christ.
A Pastor’s Last Hurrah?
The Pope by himself has jurisdiction over the governance of the universal
Church, the bishop Ordinary over each diocese, the pastor over the local parish.
Every modern document of the Church from Paul VI’s affixed note to Vatican II’s
Lumen Gentium to Rome’s 1997 instruction on Diocesan Synods says so, without
prejudice to the collegiality of bishops together with the pope, or the
importance of consultative bodies in the administration of bishops.
Briefly stated, a single person in the Catholic Church stands in place of Christ
— a priest pastor somewhere.
But once that long-standing Catholic truth is stated, we must hasten to admit
that, in practice, the notion of “pastor,” as defined, is on its way out of the
Catholic lexicon. It is vanishing as surely as the word “father,” the “head of
the household,” is fading from American usage. Both terms have become socially
unacceptable, as much because of the failure of both pastors and fathers to
protect their roles in Church and family, as from theories concocted to
undermine or demolish the dominion of one person over another in any society.
(De facto, someone is always in command.) The malpractice appears regularly in
the unwillingness of “men of authority” to enforce the laws of their society,
allowing it to appear that, in the conduct of personal affairs of social
concourse, everything is relative. The significance of that “ism” should not be
underestimated by any truly Catholic shepherd of souls.
The subversion of the very notion of one person’s authority over another has
long been in the making, conceptualized usually by philosophers who resented the
Fatherhood of God or the Lordship of Christ.
Today, the sages of secularized Western culture are determined to maintain the
present status quo, which they created, one described by Robert Nisbet as
representing “the twilight of authority” itself. In present circumstances, the
pastorate, like fatherhood, is looked upon as a titular office, a symbol of
community, but not as an agency of decision-making or lawmaking, upon which the
unity, peace, and Catholicity of the Church depends.
Secular elites are hardly sympathetic either with what may be the most powerful
persons in the world, homemaking mothers, living indissolubly in sacramental
union with the fathers of their children, fashioning the character of the
nation’s next generation. Nor do they cotton to consecrated women working under
a pastor as religious mothers to the Church’s future Christ-bearers. Secularists
prefer, instead, that women be autonomous of men, in the marketplace, in the
public square, or in the trenches, searching preferably for their own
individualities, rather than meaningfulness in ties that bind them to their
family or to their Church. In their view, togetherness is the result of
agreements freely entered with others, and voidable, not a bonding of nature or
one demanded by God’s law.
In spite of the disintegration of America’s civil order, and its family life — a
byproduct of this secularist philosophy, breaking the moral bond between human
freedom to see the truth and responsibility to do the right; the offshoot also
of the conviction is that humankind’s only directive power is one growing from
consensus among equals — secularism still dominates the thinking of the
country’s leading opinion-molders, and pervades the policies of government.
The further the Church walks that secular highway the less will she be Catholic,
the more irrelevant will pastors become to the life of the baptized, the fewer
will be the manly young men who find the priesthood attractive, and the more
will secular idols replace the worship of God the Father, and of Christ in the
Eucharist.
Msgr. George A. Kelly, the founder of the Fellowship of Catholic Scholars, is
the author most recently of A Pastor’s Challenge: Parish Leadership in an Age of
Division, Doubt and Spiritual Hunger (Our Sunday Visitor Press).
End Notes
1. See Explanatory Note appended to Lumen Gentium which makes clear that
papal collegiality with bishops is not intended to prevent the pope from acting
on his own.
2. Origins, October 11, 1984.
3. In 1789 there was one priest for every 1,000 Catholics. By 1939 the ratio
was down to 1:600. By 1989 it was back up to 1:1,100, without assessment that
large numbers of foreign-born extern priests are now serving American Catholics
on a month-by-month basis.
4. John Talbot Smith, The Catholic Church in New York, (Hall and Locke Co.,
1905, p. 470).
5. Peter Guilday, History of the Councils of Baltimore, (Macmillan, 1932, p.
185). Guilday explained the beginnings as follows: “Uniformity of discipline was
the principal need of the score of years which followed the (first episcopal)
meeting of 1810. It was not easy of attainment for misrule had spread under
incompetent leadership in New York, Philadelphia, and New Orleans. The Church
here during the period of its infancy was sadly hampered by the presence of
priests who knew not how to obey and laity who were interpreting their share of
Catholic life by non-Catholic Church systems.”
6. Canon 552 of the New Code still looks upon “stability” as normative; “The
pastor ought to possess stability in office and therefore he is to be named for
an indefinite period of time; the diocesan bishop can name him for a certain
period of time only if a decree of the Conference of Bishops has permitted
this.”
7. The doubts and challenges, as well as the factual situations, vary with
the personnel and the diocese, priests and religious stonewalling authority more
than laity (unless they be academics or teacher representatives), American-born
more than foreign-born.
8. Cf. The Ratzinger Report, (Ignatius Press, 1985, p. 45).
9. For a simple review of these theories, see Patrick J. Dunn, Priesthood. A
Reexamination of the Roman Catholic Theology of the Presbyterate, (Alba House,
1990, pp. 232 ff.).
10. See Origins, July 4, 1974.
11. A Religious News Service report Christmas week 1996 has Andrew Greeley
still defining the internal schism in these terms. This is precisely how the
issues were joined during the “birth control fight.”
12. Origins, June 15, 1982, p. 119.
13. Even the attempt to resist the use of the word “presbyter” for “priest”
was rejected to avoid prolonging the overall approval process.
14. See Minutes of NCCB’s Executive Session, June 22, 1996, Portland, Oregon.
15. Casti Connubii, No. 27.
16. Seven Popes, all French, lived in this small town — outside of Italy and
Rome from 1309-1378.
17. See E. L. Mascall, Theology and the Gospel of Christ: An Essay in
Reorientation, (London, SPCK, 1977).
18. A book reviewer in America, February 16, 1974, p. 111.
19. The Splendor of the Church, (Ignatius Press, 1986, p. 265).