Over at Inside Catholic, Russell Shaw has an article about clericalism. The indication is that it is the first of many, which is good, because the article doesn’t exactly confront clericalism directly, but does an end run via the growth of ecclesial lay ministry.
Clericalism, however, is not an affirmation of these sacred realities but a caricature. It fosters an ecclesiastical caste system in which clerics comprise the dominant elite, with lay people serving as a passive, inert mass of spear-carriers tasked with receiving clerical tutelage and doing what they’re told. This upstairs-downstairs way of understanding relationships and roles in the Church extends even to the spiritual life: priests are called to be saints, lay people are called to satisfy the legalistic minimum of Christian life and scrape by into purgatory.
Even while absorbing these clericalist views, of course, the laity traditionally have entertained certain contrary perspectives. Think of the robust anticlericalism of Chaucer. Or consider a line in Edwin O’Connor’s splendid pre-Vatican II novel The Edge of Sadness. “Probably in no other walk of life [besides the priesthood],” the priest-narrator remarks, “is a young man so often and so humbly approached by his elders and asked for his advice. Which, by the way, is almost always received gratefully and forgotten promptly.”
So, where does Catholic clericalism come from?
At bottom, it comes from erroneous thinking about vocation. The fundamental, and profoundly mistaken, idea behind it does much to explain the apparent shortage of new vocations to the priesthood and religious life and the persistent failure of carefully planned programs to recruit them. (As I’ve remarked elsewhere, there’s no shortage of vocations in the Catholic Church. What we have today is a shortage of vocational discernment, with accompanying disastrous results. But that’s another story.)
The bad idea at the heart of clericalism equates “vocation” with “state in life.” A state in life is a large, overall framework of commitment within which different people choose to live their Christians lives. State in life is one meaning of “vocation,” but not the only one.
Starting from that mistake, bad thinking about vocation then makes the great leap of supposing that the only real vocation worthy of that name is the clerical state in life. Those whom God doesn’t call to be priests (or, by extension, religious) — the laity, that is — may have a vocation in some weak, analogical sense, but they don’t have the vocation that’s the gold standard for everything else — the vocation to be a priest. All other callings are evaluated by how well or poorly they approximate the clerical norm.
So what Shaw is saying here is that by establishing priesthood (and, I’d add, religious life in general) as the norm of holiness and vocation, all other roles in the Church as well as expressions of living out one’s baptism are imagined in relationship to that.
The consequences which Shaw deplores in this article are those which have occupied him consistently: the implication that so many of us have lived with, the understanding that the ideal Christian way of life is one that is “involved in Church.” Three stories:
1) When I was in college, I was super-involved in the college campus ministry. Those of us who were in leadership were consistently frustrated with one of the priests on staff who was never around that much, who spent his time out on campus, in the dorms and frat houses and so on. One day he said to us, “Not everyone is a Church Person. You guys are, and that’s great. But not everyone wants to spend all their time at church activities. They need to be ministered to, too.”
A lightbulb moment for me that stuck – even (gasp) 30 years later.
2) Later in life, when I was an adult and at some probably useless meeting at church, a woman in her 50′s said to the gathered group, “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve done everything. I’ve been on every committee, I’ve helped plan liturgies, I’ve volunteered in the office…but I still feel like there’s something missing spiritually inside me…”
3) Yet a few years later I was sitting in Mass on a Sunday designated as Ministry Sunday. Outside, on one side of the church, were arrayed the various parish ministries with their picture boards and sign-up sheets. At the end of Mass, the priest got up and said sternly, “The Ministry Fair is on the south side of the church. Some of you will choose to exit through the north doors and avoid the ministry fair. If you do that, I am telling you – You may not consider yourself a Catholic Christian.”
You think I’m kidding? That I’m making it up? Swear to God, I’m not. It was the closest I’ve ever come to walking out of Mass. That and the Easter Sunday Mass six years ago in which the presiding Franciscan ad-libbed the entire Mass from beginning to end, an astonishing feat. Again, not kidding.
MInd you – none of that is told to disparage lay ministry, either professional or volunteer. Heck, that’s what I do. Those who sniff at the very idea of lay ministry are living in a dreamland in which children are magically catechized, music simply materializes in the air during Mass, and the homebound and hospitalized in a parish of 2,000 families are visited by one of the two (if that) teleporting priests on staff.
No, what is at issue is that sensibility that formed those of us who came of age in the 70′s – the idea that the greatest expression of the Christian life is to be “involved” in your parish or diocese, and that that is the measure of the “strength” or “vitality” of a parish – how many committee meetings fill up how many meeting rooms every night of the week - rather than the idea that the greatest expression of the Christian life is to listen to Christ and bring his love and truth to wherever you are, whatever you are doing in the world.
Which is Shaw’s point, exactly. By measuring ourselves against religious, and using that as our yardstick, we are buying into a clericalist mindset.
I have a couple of quibbles. Not quibbles exactly, but points I think need deeper exploration.
If we’re going to grapple with clericalism as Shaw defines and expands on it, we have to face the fact that historically, this promotion of the clerical state as superior is not anything new. It is woven deep into Catholic sensibilities, reaching back to the beginnings of asceticism in the fourth century, if not earlier. I’m sure we will have some commentors argue (and feel free to do so) that Shaw is wrong in this sense and that the Catholic tradition, neatly summarized in the old Baltimore Catechism illustration in which the caption below a picture of a married person says “Good” and that under a religious says “Better” makes complete sense.
That was, in fact, one particular target of the Protestant Reformers, especially vivid in Luther – to dismantle that theology which privileged celibate vowed religious life as automatically and unquestioningly one which brought one closer to God and God’s will than the lay state.
In other words, this is not a recent development, it is assumed in much of Catholic theological and spiritual thinking and to confront that makes some nervous, convinced that the next inevitable step to that kind of reconsideration is giant puppets looking over my shoulder as I’m forced to clap a new Church into being next time I go to Mass.
My other point relates more to clericalism itself. As I said, focusing on the “clericalization of the laity” is good and important, but really not the center of the problem, as I’m assuming Shaw’s forthcoming book Nothing To Hide: Secrecy, Communication, and Communion in the Catholic Church will make clear.
I actually don’t think truly helpful discussions about clericalism in the Catholic Church can happen without considering:
1) The reality and shape of clericalism in other Christian denominations. The primary point of comparison would be with those bodies that have some sort of hierarchical structure and ordained ministers for whom a sacerdotal function is primary – Orthodox, Episcopal, even perhaps Lutheran. But I think it’s worth talking about in the context of bodies with looser structures and less liturgical emphasis as well. What is the shape and form of clericalism in evangelical churches?
2) Mandatory celibacy has to be taken into account – which is where #1 becomes important, again. Clericalism exists in churches with married ordained ministers. How does the reality differ in a body in which celibacy is a mark of (most) ordained ministry? It would be even instructive to look at Orthodoxy and Eastern Rite Catholicism in which bishops must be celibate. How does that work into a clericalist stew?
3) The flip side – or perhaps just another dimension of clericalism in its contemporary form is, in my opinion, the infantilization of the clergy, both by bishops who treat priests like children and the laity whose attitude towards priests is often marked by a sort of pity and an implication that they are somehow, not fully formed adult human beings.
4) I was quite struck by one of the comments on Shaw’s article over at Inside Catholic in which a commentor said:
It always concerns me when an issue is presented as something to be solved. Shaw’s image of the sick man, as clear and expressive as it is, does not serve this particular issue well. Clericalism will always be with us. It can never be “solved.”
Trying to “solve” it can only feed the frenzy of anti-clericalism. It is better to identify its characteristics and seek to lessen them, in a word, contain them.
I thought that was pretty smart, and it fits into my theory that “everything will get screwed up eventually. Our job is not to seek perfection, but be aware of and honest about our limitations and the possibility of sin and failure and try to mitigate against it in our structures and methods.”
5) Finally, this: We’re all talking about clericalism. We’re mostly laity. I’m pretty interested in hearing about clericalism from, you know..clerics. Are we just imagining things? From the inside, is what we’re calling clericalism perceived as a problem, or just business and usual? Is this conversation missing anything from your perspective?
It is woven deep into Catholic sensibilities, reaching back to the beginnings of asceticism in the fourth century, if not earlier. …that the Catholic tradition, neatly summarized in the old Baltimore Catechism illustration in which the caption below a picture of a married person says “Good” and that under a religious says “Better” makes complete sense.
I would say this distinction comes from Our Lord himself (Luke 10:38-42):
Now it came to pass as they went, that he entered into a certain town: and a certain woman named Martha, received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sitting also at the Lord’s feet, heard his word. But Martha was busy about much serving. Who stood and said: “Lord, hast thou no care that my sister hath left me alone to serve? Speak to her therefore, that she help me. And the Lord answering, said to her: “Martha, Martha, thou art careful, and art troubled about many things: But one thing is necessary. Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her.”
This is seen throughout the Gospels, that the more we give up to follow Jesus, the greater our reward. We do not all receive the same grace. Some will have greater glory than others in Heaven, because of what they did on earth. Our Lord called the rich young man to complete poverty (Mark 10:21), but he only required Zaccheus to give up half his goods (Luke 19:8). However, he told the rich young man that he would be “perfect” if he obeyed. The Priesthood and religious life are greater callings than marriage, because they witness to Jesus in a more perfect way. We don’t need to deny that to have a positive theology of marriage and laity.
But Jason, in theory yes – but when priests, religious and bishops live as well as – if not better than – the laity – what is it, exactly, they have “given up?”
Family? Sure, but what else? Anything?
Many priests and religious live sacrificial lives. But many don’t. I’ve worked with women religious who had nicer apartments and more stuff than me. I’ve been in parishes where the priests lived in far nicer digs, played golf at great clubs, dined at nicer restaurants than I could ever afford.
I don’t understand how that is “better” than a family sacrificing material goods, free time and leisure in order to bring children into the world and raise them properly.
Lisa,
True, those who respond to a vocation will not necessarily live up to that vocation. Look at Judas. He would have joined the other Apostles on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel (Matthew 19:28), but he betrayed Our Lord, who said of him, “It would have been better for that man if he had not been born” (Matthew 26:24). But the failure of Judas does not negate the greatness of the call of the Apostles.
My larger point is, the opposite danger to clericalism is some kind of supernatural egalitarianism, trying to make every vocation the same. Our Lord never said every call was equal. Some people will have greater glory in Heaven because God has called them to that glory, and he did not call someone else to that glory. The Priesthood and religious life are greater calls, but someone may fail to live up to that call.
Lisa, not all priests and religious live better than laity. And many of them work in countries where they are in imminent danger or are exposed to extreme hardship. They do give up everything to follow Christ.
And I’ve seen “clericalism,” if I can call it that, in lay evangelizers, who call themselves “professionals,” and have created their own self-sustaining aura by which they try to lend themselves the same kind of authority that priests have sacramentally and legitimately. After all, there is no parish without a priest and only he can act “in persona Christi.” The notion that we’re supposed to be competing with the clergy is nonsense.
There’s a big part of me, however, that really doesn’t trust the laity very much, especially when it involves passing on the faith. I’m not talking about parents and their children, because, at least in the past, I think parents did a pretty good job of doing this. And I’m not talking about the very good example of many Catholics witnessing by the way they lived their lives and the good, charitable works they did.
However, these days, with various laity doing evangelization, catechesis, the North American Forum on the Catechumenate, other groups, etc., it seems like they all have various levels of preparedness, various “takes” on doctrine, liturgy (their importance or lack thereof), various agendas, and although I know priests and religious can have these same failings, somehow I still TRUST priests and religious much more in these areas (plus, I know the usual suspects in the clerical and religious states whom I should not trust). But for all the education many of the laity have, they don’t seem to “understand” the Church from the heart as well as those who came before them did.
Anyway, my point, such as it is, is that, for all the blather about the lay apostolate and the ever-encroaching professionalization of it all, I think it worked out much better when it was conducted on a family basis. I know that this is not possible now, for many reasons, but this is a great loss. THAT was bringing the love of Christ to the world, since it radiated out from the foundation of society. And if your children then went to Catholic school, it was only reinforced.
Now there are a host of lay apostolates, of varying levels of excellence, but it seems to me that they are so particularized that they don’t really speak to the fullness of Christ. And many of them aren’t overseen as well as they might be. It’s so scattershot that the people who really need decent catechesis won’t get it from them.
And, by the way, I don’t see what’s wrong in getting involved in your parish. The idea that there’s a dichotomy: maintenance or mission, is simply wrong. There are plenty of people, Protestants mostly, who think any attention paid to a parish or to a church (in terms of beauty or expense) is simply wasted. But that is not the Catholic tradition and it never was. Even the little mission churches in the Southwest were lavishly decorated and embellished, as were the early Christian house churches. And plenty of attention was paid to the residents of a parish. Read St. Paul. Or Clement of Rome.
Anyway, sorry to run on.
Dear Amy, et al.,
If religious are in communities (not merely apartments) then they are live in a manner that at first glance looks like a family. Because we call each other “brother” and “sister,” we still must remember that families are not chosen. Religious life is freely chosen. We are called brother and sister yet aware that these titles are the best word we can use to describe the poor relation we have.
So, Lisa writes, “Many priests and religious live sacrificial lives. But many don’t.” This is true. Is this scandalous? Does it violate the vow of poverty? (Note, only religious take that vow; priests don’t. Diocesans can do whatever they want, within reason, with their stipends.) That is a discussion that should be had throughout the Church.
However, if a brother travels a lot, is that scandalous? What if he needs to visit other members of the large province regularly? Then it is not. With religious numbers dwindling, many orders are merging provinces into larger geographic ones. This can translate into more travel.
I personally am not keen on describing marriage and the single life as lesser vocations. As Vatican II clearly states, all are called to holiness. Each path (vocation) has its particular challenges to that. Holiness is the goal, and it is not inferior in marriage than in sacerdotes.
I know I have not touched upon the clericalism that is Amy’s major point. This is a conversation I look forward to reading.
What worries me about classifying different vocations as superior and inferior, is that I see a lot of women who want to be another St. Paula. My vocation is to motherhood, and if I spend too much time at church, whether it’s in a ministry or in contemplation, I’m neglecting my husband and children. It’s a wonderful, refreshing break to pray quietly sometimes, or to feed the homeless, but I have to keep in mind that motherhood is a superior vocation for ME, right now.
I don’t argue about the classifications, it just seems like irrelevant information to say, being a good Catholic wife and mother gets me a lower spot in heaven than an equivalently good priest gets? So how mediocre does a priest have to be, in order to only be as holy as I am?
“the more we give up to follow Jesus, the greater our reward” (and the higher the calling).
I am imagining a parish priest thinking of the great sacrifice he made by denying the pleasures of family life and a husband who thinks of the great sacrifices he has made by denying himself the pleasures of quiet, solitude, and leisure that a celibate man still has.
Don’t all vocations require sacrifice? It seems quite obvious to me that a priest sacrifices for more people, but a married layperson sacrifices for fewer people but in deeper ways. Both states have their sacrifices and consolations.
Jason,
This is off Amy’s topic, but you need to take a close look at CCC # 872 and also # 946-953 on the communion of saints.
I don’t think it Catholic teaching that any in heaven are admitted to “greater glory” in heaven. In the presence of God, what is possibly greater or lesser?
This is not to deny that there are different charisms and gifts that get one there, nor to deny that some fail to live up to their call.
But in the end, in the face of God and eternity, what could the differences between our puny selves possibly matter?
Jason,
A c ouple of years ago I would have given you a thumbs up on the priesthood and religious life being a greater calling. I no longer believe that is the case. you cite our Lord’s episode with Martha and Mary. The essence of this exchange was our Lord simply pointing out that those who desire to follow him, regardless of their state in life, should always be mindful that spending time with Him first in prayer is essential to following Him. As to the priest/religious life, Our beloved Saviour also said not all could live as eunuchs, i.e., some can, some can’t. Specific to this He didn’t say that a celibate life was a greater calling. If celibacy is the standard for greater sacrifice, then celibacy really is no greater sacrifice than the married state. Why? because what takes a greater sacrifice, to live celibate life, or, to be completely faithful to the same person for life “until death do you part.” I believe both states in life involve “sacrifice” which we know is only sustained by the grace of God. I do not believe they witness to the Kingdom in a more perfect way; it it is simply the Lord’s invitation to that soul to respond to Him in this state in life. As a 53 year old man as of late I have witnessed more married couples who, in the midst of marital crisis and the challenges raising children, giving far greater example of following Christ more perfectly that any cleric or religious. In fact, the many humble and truly holy priest I know would humbly concurr with this observation.
Peace to all.
Amy – thank you for another great conversation starter. You have the gift of framing a discussion and then stepping aside. But, I would ask that you continue to give your own feedback on this issue, because I think that you have a lot to offer.
Shaw has some good books out on this subject already and they are worth reading, as his new one most likely will be as well. I agree with much of what he says. Laity can’t be clergy and clergy can’t be laity. We all have some tendency to blur the lines one way or the other.
I am lucky to work with great priests, in fact, priests who “have it all”. They are men devoted to Christ and His Church and who are good pastors, preachers, confessors, etc. But, what makes them priests isn’t what they “do” it is who they are.
The mistakes we make in these areas are found because of a misidentification of the laity and priesthood. We can’t just define one another by “doing” but rather by “being”.
1 – We are all children of God made in his image.
2 – We are created as individuals, with our own gifts and calling.
3 – The clergy ARE different in identity, yet we are all equal in dignity.
4 – Our roles ARE different, but all are called to holiness.
May we remember these things in the discussion.
I have been concerned for some year about the attitude of some lay ecclesial ministers (of which I am one, although I hate the bureaucratic moniker) who want to create a parallel world of privilege for professional lay ministers: job security, perqs, privileges, etc. I try to point out that the clerical system has not been a rousing success: it finds itself now unable to replicate itself into the future. Why would we want to recreate a parallel world of privilege for lay ministers, based on a system that is failing the Church?
One other point: if you think we “pass on the faith” in a classroom setting, you are delusional. The faith is passed on through the example of faith, the witnessing of faith, the shining of the Light of Christ through a transparently Christian life. Teaching in didactic sense, plays a small and important role, but it pales in comparison to learning to be a Christian from interacting with other Christians.
(This is my last post, I just want to respond briefly.)
Cathy,
Our Lord tells us to “lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven” (Matthew 7:20). Some will have more treasures than others, because of what they did on earth. Our Lady, for example, is crowned Queen of Heaven. The martyrs will have the crown of martyrdom, the Apostles will sit on their own thrones (Matthew 19:28), etc. We will all share the presence of God, but not in the same measure. Even on earth, we do not all receive the same measure of grace, but we all receive sufficient grace for what God has called us to.
Jeanette,
I understand your point, that in some sense it’s not a distinction we have to dwell on constantly. We should all worry about living our own vocations fully. However, it is more than just a theological technicality, so much so that the Council of Trent taught very solemnly on the matter:
If anyone says that the married state excels the state of virginity or celibacy, and that it is better and happier to be united in matrimony than to remain in virginity or celibacy, let him be anathema.
–Session 24, Canon 10 “On the Sacrament of Matrimony”
This is not just a matter of theological speculation. It is a teaching we have received from Christ and the Apostles, which is why it is so important when discussing clericalism, that we do not contradict the clear teaching of Scripture that there are greater and lesser calls. This is not a cause for jealousy, because we are one body with many callings, and “if one member is honored, all rejoice together” (1Corinthians 12:26):
He who marries his betrothed does well; and he who refrains from marriage will do better.
–1Corinthians 7:38
I wish people, like Jim, would stop dissing the intellectual aspect of the faith. It’s not all experiential and emotional. I know Aristotle said, if you want to know what virtue is, study a virtuous man. But there IS a didactic component that is important, that is essential, that teaches us to reason and think. After all, that’s part of the discussion that the Pope began in Regensburg.
Then again, if any one says that it is not better and more blessed to remain in virginity, or in celibacy, than to be united in matrimony; let him be anathema. (Or so says Canon 10 of Session 24 of the Council of Trent.)
This issue is almost impossible to adjudicate in our cultural setting as we have all internalized (whether we admit it or not) the antagonistic social theories of modernity in our attempts to understand communal and interpersonal relationships. To speak of a “higher” calling by necessity means in our cultural parlance something that offends our populist sensibilities. It is assumed to mean privilege and glory rather than more responsibility, more suffering, and more limits.
AMY,
VERY good and throught-provoking post. I come from a family of two aunts who are nuns and so I was raised around nuns and priests since I could speak. Because I was always doted on (especially by the nuns) I learned a kind of complete obedience and reverence for all religious. Very early on, I also recognized the sacrifice they made through their vows, which in effect does (or should) separate them from the laity, along with their day-to-day regiment. If you had told me during my childhood years ago there would be a scandal involving priests and child-molestation, I would have never EVER believed it, as it simply was not a part of my experience.
It wasn’t until I went to University (Jesuit) that I really started analyzing the “man behind the collar” so to speak. More and more I found very petty attitudes, cult of personalities and wayward theology being passed off as church teaching. And instead of innocently dismissing or tuning out anything I thought was inappropriate, I actually heard and saw some really bad behaviour. In short; I realized there are some very good priests, and some very VERY bad ones.
I guess my version of clericalism is I still feel that priests and religious who are truly called to a religious life and take their vows seriously CAN be on a higher spiritual plane than the rest of us (just as nuclear physicists can be more knowledgeble about science than someone who has a lab in their garage) simply because they have chosen to dedicate their entire lives to this purpose and have less distractions than day to day people. This does not necessarily make them more holy. Not by a long shot. Anyone who lives the gospel is holy. And this is why there have always been secular orders (like the 3rd order Franciscans for example).
Anyway, again: great post and topic.
Re Jason and Tom’s reference to the Council of Trent, are these anathemas still in place? I once asked my bishop that question and he said that all the anathemas at Trent were eliminated some time ago. Come to think of it, practically every doctrinal question I asked of various priests were answered in so many different and sometimes erroneous ways, depending on which priest I asked, that I quit asking.
Jim is right, we learn our faith by the example of Christian witness and Godly living. After all, Jesus said on the day of judgment that the sheep and the goats would be separated based on their love of neighbor, not on how much doctrine they knew.
As someone a couple of weeks away from presbyteral ordination:
I see your #2 story (about the woman who was sad in not finding fulfillment in serving in committees, etc) as very endemic in today’s American church. I think a lot of people are confused (religious and lay) when their vocation/job isn’t religiously fulfilling. As Blessed Teresa of Calcutta reminded a young brother complaining about not doing the job he felt called to do, “Your vocation is to belong to Christ.” We tend to get too attached to our jobs or responsibilities. A danger in the priesthood (or any lay vocation) is to see it as a job. It’s supposed to be a calling, a way of life, as is the lay state. Our jobs and tasks do not define us.
There’s another side effect here: priests are relegated to “sacramental dispensers.” “Father” just has to show up and do what was planned. The person in charge of the liturgy in a diocese is no longer the bishop, but someone who, I’m sorry to say more times than not, feels hurt if his/her liturgical ideas aren’t implemented and cries “clericalism” if Father protests. I and most priests I know are perfectly fine with “going with the flow” to a goodly extent, but think back on the sample CTA Mass you showed before. Often times priests are asked to “preside” and then a whole spectacle goes on around them, and if they ask (even diplomatically) about certain things, they’re “clerical.” I can’t say I blame the liturgy planners entirely. If your paid job is to “plan” liturgy, it’s natural to think you’re not doing your job unless you go all-out on planning a liturgy, but then we get things like the CTA Mass or a lot of other hackneyed liturgy. Overall, this seems to fit into your point about clerical infantilism.
I’m going to add another wrinkle in the clericalism argument, and that’s the other “bugaboo” word: hierarchy. I remember in a liturgical theology class I took one fellow student complained lividly about an author stating that the liturgy was both “hierarchical and communal?” “Where did _HE_ get THAT?” “From the Second Vatican Council.” *crickets* Most people simply ignore or do not believe that liturgy IS hierarchical. But this is not to lord it over the people, but following our Lord’s example, to serve the servants (part of the great symbolism of the washing of the feet by the priest). The Sacrifice of the Mass is the Lord of the Universe Himself re-presenting His utter humiliation and sacrifice (and through it His resurrection and victory!) for all our sakes. But people think too often that Church stops at Mass, or at some committee. Mass is to fortify us to change _the world_ as the Eucharist changes us.
OTOH, priests need to remember as well that they serve under the bishop’s will. Even being a “pastor” does not make you a mini-bishop, but someone _under_ someone else (how that chafes so many of us clergy!). And for our bishops, we need to pray for them most of all. Many healthy reforms in the Church are implemented when good and holy bishops set the example.
Seminarian, great comments. First, Congratulations! May God grant you a long and fulfilling life in His service. We should all be so lucky.
Second, anyone who denies the heirarchical aspect of the church is severely dillusional or ignorant on our theology. Maybe they should look up the term “Apostolic succession” for starters and just go from there.
Third, I fully understand your argument about the enternal battle of priest vs liturgist…but it goes both ways. I have been present in a parish where one priest changed what was a fairly conservative congregation with an orthodox liturgy to a hand-clapping, arm-waving, liturgical-dancing farce. Soon, was never a mention of any sin in the homilies, save that of greed when it came time for the collection. This particular priest had built up such a cult of personality, that he alienated the conservative members of the congregation, many of whom ended up at an SSPX church down the road. And whenever anyone disagreed with HIS ideas for his new church vision, it was his way or the highway.
In my view, that CTA mass is a case in point of one aspect of a bad priest. Assuming the priest in the video truly believed he was officiating over a valid licit mass (and I’m still not convinced), he should never have allowed most of what went on. The priest should ALWAYS have the last say, as we should EXPECT the priest to champion orthodoxy, canon law and what the GIRM has layed out specifically. Saddly, I know of three cases where the opposite was true, and the laity, for all the good they tried to do, were simply brushed aside. How is that for irony?
Lastly, regarding bishops, what you said is so true in theory, but in practice it is sorely lacking, specifically here in the US. I am in the archdiocese of a bishop who will still not allow the Tridentine Latin mass (dispite the outcry of hundreds asking for it), distributes communion to gay activists dressed in drag mocking nuns, and has no moral courage to issue any formal statement against the pro-abortion views of his “catholic” congresswoman, Nancy Pelosi.
I was sincerely hoping our Blessed Pope Benedict would “clean house” while he was here in the US. But I guess we’ll have to wait a bit longer. Yes, pray for our bishops. Even if it is to St Jude (patron of lost causes).
Janice wrote:
“I wish people, like Jim, would stop dissing the intellectual aspect of the faith. It’s not all experiential and emotional. I know Aristotle said, if you want to know what virtue is, study a virtuous man. But there IS a didactic component that is important, that is essential, that teaches us to reason and think. After all, that’s part of the discussion that the Pope began in Regensburg.”
Well, I’m pretty sure that I conceded that teaching plays an important role. But it is easier to lie with one’s tongue than with one’s life. The latter is not impossible, just harder.
One can be holy and uneducated. Teaching and learning are ways to understand one’s faith more deeply, not to find it.
Jim,
You’re right. One CAN be holy and uneducated. But lately, I’ve noticed that there’s been a lot of talk about “mental assent” and how that was all Catholics of the pre-Vatican II era did with their Catholicism. While that’s not true (then or now), it can drift into a lot of experientialism and faith undergirded by nothing, but one’s own subjectivity. If you take 1 Pet. 3.15 seriously, you also have to take the intellectual aspect seriously, too. I mean, everyone talks about how few Catholics can actually justify the reasons they have for being Catholics and a lot of Catholic converts are the loudest complainers of all, but how many of THEM actually exercise their own intellects in any meaningful way? The intellectual heritage of Catholicism is very serious business, actually, and it’s stretched more than a few brains. I’m just saying, while the holy is certainly not limited to the educated, if people have the opporutunity, they should make use of it and not just prooftext Scripture endlessly.
I don’t know whether the anathema is still in place. I expect the de fide teaching on which it’s based is. (Of course, I was inferring the de fide teaching from the anathema, so….)
I see, though, that the 1848 Waterworth translation I quoted expresses the canon in negative terms (“it is not better and more blessed to remain in virginity”), while the tranlsation Jason quoted (as it appears e.g. at EWTN.com) expresses it in positive terms (“the married state excels”).
They are not equivalent. The former means virginity and celibacy are better, the latter means marriage is not better (but could be equal).
As another seminarian, a few months from diaconate, may I second what seminarian and Jason have said. A key point is to differentiate between the vocation and the person. Priestly and religious life is objectively “better” in that it more perfectly images the poor, chaste and obedient Christ who is the pattern for every Christian. It is also an eschatological sign of the life to come. The fact that the state of life is objectively better says nothing about whether the person living it is better. As a “better” state it has the power to form us powerfully into the image of our saviour but that is dependent on our allowing it to do so. The state of life may be exalted the person in it – not so much.
A major error at the heart of clericalism is assuming that because the life is objectively better the person is. Personal holiness is not dependent on state in life, which is one of the big points stressed by VII and quite a bit of recent magisterial teaching.
So does this mean that St. Paul ,who was not married, was “objectively better” than St. Peter, who was married ?
JANICE, I agree with your sentiments regarding faith and (note: not versus) education. I have come across too many prison converts in this lifetime to know you can’t simply pick up the bible and magically understand everything about the Christian faith. The bible (ESPECIALLY in English) is extremely complicated and at times unintelligible UNLESS it is read within the context of the times, style and spirit in which it was written. The meaning of many components, such as the numerology, allegory, hyperbole and parable were very well understood at the time of the early Israelites, but in our modern eras, too many people tend to simply assume they are all literal. It is only through EDUCATION and scholarship that we can understand the bible through the traditions of the church, which kept that knowledge for millenia. And it is from this knowledge that we further clarify our faith.
Although Protestants abhor the notion, there is a sound and logical reason for not encouraging the laity to read the bible without proper guidance. History has shown us that if you hand the bible to 5 different dissenters, you will have 5 different sects; none of which agree with the rest. For me, aside from performing the sacraments, which is the primary responsiblity of the clergy, the second is to be the custodians and transmitters of this knowledge of the church to the congregation.
EB: Putting aside their married states or lack thereof and when it might have been, I don’t think you can make that conclusion from what Christopher said, since state of life does not equal state of the person’s soul or the state of their friendship with God. Actually, a higher state of life may well also incur a higher fall if you fall from grace. I can say that Judas probably had a higher state or calling than I will. Hopefully God does not allow me to fall by my own hubris.
And God can also raise whomever He wants from whereever He wants. Our Lady, among the least powerful was raised to Queenship above the choirs of angels and any earthly prince or bishop by His grace. I’m certain (about as certain as anything else) that I will not “get to cut in line” in Heaven due to a clerical state. The clerical state is meant to serve on this Earth, not exalt one in Heaven.
In the Archdiocese of St Paul and Minneapolis, the parishes have been asked to bring an end to the practice of lay preaching.
This directive from Archbishop Flynn looks like an effort to end one expression of clericalism.
Click here for the story in the archdiocesan newspaper, the Catholic Spirit.
A cleric, who is a human being serving as Christ on earth, is blessed with special graces to live up to his vocation. He is, however, still human and must use those graces for the glory of God. It is not easy, yet it is not any harder than being a mother or a father, or being single. It all has to do with accepting the graces to do whatever it is that our Father wills. It is evident and indisputable that Christ on earth today is the priviledge of men, just as it is evident and indisputable that motherhood is the priviledge of women. Does gender then mean that one is capable of being holier than the other? I believe that we are all capable of being as holy as possible depending on what we choose to do with the graces that God provides to us. We must remember that we are all children of God. No one is better than the other, one simply chooses to do whatever it takes to be the best one can be. In the end I can only live in Christ to the fullest and be accountable for myself. Just as each and every one of us must do. I have no need to compete, therefore, I will run my race, I will win my prize. There is no room in my life for worrying about whether someone else is going to get a better prize for HE will give us all what HE wants not what we merit.
Amy, great post. I was always disturbed by that “good, better, best” depiction in the Baltimore Catechism. Although my husband discerned the priesthood and I did so with religious life, we found our vocation to be marriage. After 2 years of marriage we have grown in holiness thanks to our new state of life (and we think it’s more than “good”– actually really awesome!)
Getting a glimpse of the life of priests & religious has helped us see the normal, everyday person side of a person called to a priestly/religious vocation. I think that only increased our respect and love for them.
oremus pro invicem!
Seminarian, I didn’t state a conclusion, I asked a question. To rephrase it, was St. Paul’s unmarried state objectively better than St. Peter’s married state? Or to put it another way , is an unmarried clergy an objectively better state than a married clergy?
My comments are in reference to Christophers remarks above.
I think that Christopher’s distinction between the vocation and the person is key. I’ve never quite bought the idea that vowed celibacy is more of a sign of the kingdom that the non-vowed kind, though. And marriage is a sign of Christ and his church and forms the smallest unit of the church. If that is true – and it is a sacrament after all – it is pretty special.
So, I think that the moral of the story is that we all have to do our best, with God’s grace, to live holy lives that project the image that our state in life is supposed to signify. And we can do this well or badly.
Clericalism, at least to me, is the impression that one is better or due more respect precisely because of being a cleric. I’ve seen it a lot. And one’s sense of virtue doesn’t seem to enter into it. The most ‘clerical’ people I’ve met seem to have the most unsavory personal lives.
I’m reminded of a seminarian years ago who told me haughtily “I’m not being ordained to set up chairs.” I mean, come on!
I’ve also met clerics who are really humble and holy. Who don’t think pushing a broom is beneath them – and who believe that service means not always being applauded or noticed.
I’ve seen ‘clericalism’ in others who are not clerics, but I don’t think I’ve seen it much in my colleagues. Sometimes, yes. But not as much. I usually see them as not looking for recognition or grasping at power, but just trying to get something done.
The idea of clerical priveledge is left over from the feudal world. Some other things are, too, but this isn’t a positive hold over.
Can I imagine a formation process that encourages humilty rather than prestige, that assumes that one is ordained to serve, not to be arrogant, that acknowledges that skills and experience have to be acquired and practiced, and are not bestowed? Yes, I can.
But I see more and more arrogance coming at us. Someone tried to explain to me that a young priest, who is always stepping on the toes of other staff, felt that letting us know what he was up to was tantamount to ‘asking permission.’
First of all, sometimes, it isn’t the worst thing in the world to ask permission. But second, as I understand the ritual of ordination, it does not absolve one from cooperation, communication, respect for others, nor does it endow one with omniscence.
Lastly, we should all be involved in living holy lives and living the Gospel. Some of us have to do that in church ministry. (God called us to it.) And frankly, sometimes it is more difficult to be holy and suffused with the Gospel while entangled in the institution. (I believe Pope Benedict XVI remarked about the relatively low number of popes who have been canonized.)
Living the Gospel should never be confused with running a parish. It is a wonderful thing when the one is not obscured by the other. The real sorrow comes when the practicalities of the institution overwhelm both what is preached and the holiness of those involved.
In my experience, clericalism of the “old school” is much less prevalent in Eastern Christian circles, both Catholic and Orthodox–though given the diversity among Eastern Christians (23 Eastern Catholic Churches alone!), making generalizations is a hazardous business. The marriage of parish clergy, so very common among the East-Slavs especially, is, in my experience, the great leveler of major distinctions between priest and people, at least in a parish context. There is, however, a danger that the priest becomes seen as not only indistinct from the laity, but in fact the slave (and not the servant) of the laity in the worst sort of way. I have seen lay people abuse clergy, especially those who have immigrated to North America from, say, Eastern Europe, and are dependent on the position for remuneration to support themselves and family back home. It has gotten so bad that I am often put in mind of Wildred Knox’s witty proposal to write a 2-volume series of Christian ethics, the first volume titled “Respect for Clergy” and the second volume “Other Virtues.” So once again I caution my Latin and Western confreres not to make the mistake of thinking that a married clergy is a panacea for the ailments of the Latin Church.
EB: Sorry if I misread you. My answer to that question is, what did St. Paul say? He seems to have his own categories and thoughts about marriage. I’ll let the Eastern brethren speak for themselves as to their opinions on married clergy. I personally do NOT see married clergy as being “less of a clergy,” all other things being equal. However, universal Church tradition has always esteemed celibacy (clerical or religious, male or female) for a reason, and that has been variously described, but it’s usually related to comformity to the evangelical counsels as witness.
But we don’t even need to go East. We have a few of our own in the Latin Rite. So if you ask me, is Fr. Bob (with a wife and kids) living in a lower/equal/higher state of life than Fr. Bill (a celibate parish priest)? I’d have to say Fr. Bill is living in a higher state of life. That does not mean he is a better person or priest.
Finally, I’m not sure I go with the St. Peter vs. St. Paul dichotomy, because we’re not really too sure if St. Peter _was_ , during his time as an apostle, married. It seems that kind of life would basically mean St. Peter abandoned his wife. That he was at least at one point married, sure. That, and things get further complicated because of St. Peter’s unique role as prince of the Apostles. I’d have to think about how that related him to the other apostles.
Several distinctions are in order. (Most of these come from St. Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa Theologiae II-II, Q. 184.)
First, between “state” and “order”. This includes the distinction between priests and religious. A religious (someone who has taken vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience) is not necessarily a cleric (nuns, unordained monks & brothers), although some are (Benedictine, Franciscan, or Dominican priests, to name a few). Aquinas distinguishes the “state” of life (religious vs. secular – and secular includes all priests and laity who have not taken religious vows) from the “order” in the church (bishops, priests, deacons, and laity).
Consider the following examples:
A Benedictine priest: state = religious, order = priest.
A diocesan priest: state = secular, order = priest.
A Benedictine sister or unordained brother: state = religious, order = laity.
A married Eastern-rite priest: state = secular, order = priest. (Same holds for married deacons, whose order = deacon.)
A married couple with kids: state = secular, order = laity.
The second distinction: between one’s objective “state of life” and one’s personal virtue, holiness, merit, etc. It is the constant teaching of the Christian tradition — going back to St. Paul — that someone who consecrates their entire life to Christ by a vow (that is, a religous) has entered into a higher “state of life.” In other words, a religious, by virtue of her consecration, has determined the whole of her life and all of her future acts by reference to her consecration in vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience; all things being equal, this is a more effective and sure means for arriving at the perfection of the Christian life, which consists in charity (love of God and neighbor). THAT is the reason why it is called a “higher” state. However, simply because one has taken religious vows does NOT make you more perfect in charity — someone can use less effective means and get much further along, especially if you don’t make a good use of the means of the religious life! So we must distinguish the objective “state of life,” the means, from where you’ve gotten with those means (always through grace, of course!), which is your personal holiness.
Note, by the way, that in the tradition, a religious is in a “higher” state of life than a priest, because, objectively, the religious has bound herself by public vows to a whole life in the pursuit of perfection. A priest, in contrast, is in a higher order than a nun, and therefore has a certain dignity from his personal conformity to Christ through the sacrament of orders.
In both cases, however, we are speaking only of the objective fact. Some priests and religious do not live in a way befitting their state or order, and can end up much less charitable and holy than many married people.
To turn now to the question of clericalism: we have to maintain — if we respect the Catholic tradition — that there are objective differences between different states and orders, and in fact that there is a hierarchy here. But it is not a hierarchy that reflects the personal holiness or merits of any given individual, since every individual can, under the influence of grace, achieve profound holiness and love of God.
Should priests (because of their higher order) or religious (because of their higher state) be treated differently in a Catholic culture? Yes in some ways, no in others. The disastrous train-wreck in priestly and religious life in the church after the Council resulted, I think, from a failure to appreciate the distinctive roles and importance of these states and orders — especially regarding religious, and religious women in particular. If a nun is no different than a married woman, then why become one? The difference is not their function in society, in the Church, in the liturgy — rather, it is in the objectively different vows that each have made.
A sense of privilege, of haughtiness, of entitlement, insisting on being listened to, etc. — these are all examples of a corruption of the true meaning of priestly service. But isn’t a priest a spiritual father and a pastor to those he serves? Yes. Doesn’t that suggest that, in some ways, there should be a different way of relating to a priest than to others?
There are abusive human fathers, and abusive spiritual pseudo-fathers. Neither should be tolerated. But both are a corruption of something very good, and that is important to recognize, too.
PS: Bishops are a special case, according to Aquinas, so the example of Peter and Paul doesn’t quite work. Further, both were called to make the ultimate sacrifice of their lives for Christ, and both did so willingly. This is the ultimate measure of charity. Peter’s order was unquestionably higher (head of the apostles). In the end, I don’t think this is a helpful example.
It would seem that in many ways Vatican II wanted to bring the world to the Church. Instead, we became more enclosed within ourselves; the ultimate expression of being Catholic no longer takes place outside the walls of the Church for the laity, as artists, scientists, politicians, etc., but rather within them, as lay Eucharistic ministers, lectors, parish committees, etc. Religious discourse in general seems so turned in on itself, and it seems often that all we are doing in apologetics, to take one example, is poaching the devout of other denominations rather than evangelizing the irreligious of all stripes.
I have been a seminarian and a monk, and I have seen in many circumstances that “churchiness” doesn’t automatically equal Christianity. Indeed, “churchiness” can be quite inimical to the Gospel, if it turns the Faith into a sectoralized club.
PPS: I should add a brief word about Vatican II’s universal call to holiness and the lay state. The universal call to holiness was not new in Vatican II — it is simply the Christian tradition! It was presupposed by all of the great theologians, and certainly by Thomas Aquinas. The problems arose largely out of a legalistic mindset, typical of a more modern period (or, at least, after William of Ockham) that asked: “How much charity am I obliged to have to avoid sinning?” From there, you get an approach to religious life as heroic — going beyond what is required — and the laity as doing the minimum to get by. But in fact, the more authentic tradition saw charity as something that cannot admit of moderation (“love the Lord your God with your WHOLE heart”), but that there were different means by which one lives it out.
We could use more reflection on marriage as a means to holiness in Catholic theology. It is certainly under-appreciated, and has a great potential for helping one grow in selflessness. Certainly, a celibate life can lead one to become self-centered, if not lived as a life of service of others in charity. (Here again, we’re back to the distinction between the state itself, and how you live it out.) But my own pastoral experience — especially hearing confessions — has convinced me that living life “in the world” with all its pressures and demands simply is a much harder way to go about offering your whole life to God! So in that sense, I think the tradition (and St. Paul!) are right to say that the religious state (if you’re living it rightly), where one “flees the world,” makes such a life objectively easier and more sure.
Well, you asked for it. As a secular priest, I see my role as sort of running a pit stop in the great race of life. I am here mainly to serve those who are actually in the heat of the race. We are in the same contest and on the same side, but we do different things. I need to be attending to the race, but I need to be ready with what is needed when it is needed. I should not get out on the track, and I should not keep the racers off of it any longer than necessary, although for as long as necessary. The race to carry out the great commission of winning the world for Christ has got to be mainly a lay undertaking. Some clerics have a role to play in it, like shock troops — the Jesuit missionaries of old or the Missionaries of Charity today; but the ordinary way Jesus is going to infiltrate homes, schools, offices, politics, sports, etc. is by, with, and in the Christians who are there. As I was told on a priests’ retreat about my proper role, for example, at a wedding: prepare the couple for the sacrament, witness the ceremony, say the blessing and perhaps drink a toast at the reception. Then go home — nobody cares how well you can dance!s
The canon above says that marriage is not a superior state, but I don’t think anyone here was arguing that it was (though it must have come about in response to exactly that claim). And I’m not jealous in any way. But I’ve known from a very young age that my calling is to motherhood, and the state of virginity was denied me, so it’s just always seemed odd that one might want to point out to me that my highest calling is lower?
Of course, the very highest calling (is that the phrase I want?) is to be virgin, wife, and mother, and there’s a VERY short list of those who have achieved that. Yeah. The rest of us can only do 2/3 at most. And She wasn’t ordained. And in the Peter vs. Paul question: Peter was both a husband and apostle, while Paul was apostle only. Doesn’t seem to have hindered Peter’s ‘career’. BTW, isn’t the implication that Peter was a widower? I don’t know 2000-year-old Jewish customs, but I’m thinking Peter’s wife would be waiting on Jesus rather than make her mother get out of her sickbed, unless Mrs. Peter was dead?
Cathy, 6:05;
Did you offer to set up the chairs for the seminarian, after which he would wash your feet?
I appreciate all the discussion on states of life and vocations. However, it seems to me that the vocation of every Christian is to discern the will of God and carry it out.
In my diocese, people increasingly define the quality of Catholic praxis by the number of “ministries” in which an individual is involved. In one parish, the pastor seems to define it by examining the financial contributions and has not hesitated to humiliate those he feels contribute insufficient amounts to his parish (presumably contributions to other charities don’t count).
People who show a taste for church work are encouraged to enroll in a ministry training program. People who don’t want to serve in the myriad tasks are excoriated as slackers. There is no interest in how individuals can evangelize their workplace, their non-church recreational associations, their extended families. Nope, it doesn’t count unless it’s parish-based. This is the “clericalization of the laity” that goes beyond simply seeing how many lay people you can stuff into the sanctuary at one time. And it reminds me uncomfortably of the Protestant churches on my childhood.
Every church in which I’ve worked has terrible problems with an “us vs. them” mentality – the “us” being the clergy and their growing army of lay employees and the “them” is everyone else. And boy, it’s tempting to join the “in crowd.”
The new Shaw book focuses on secrecy and looks for ways to improve the non-existant communication between hierarchy and laity. (Actually some bishops don’t seem to communicate very well with their priests either.) One bishop I know said that he didn’t care if someone was right when they registered a complaint or request. Instead, it was how nice they were when they asked – that would determine his decision. This came in a homily that seemed to be issuing a warning. But of course, because of the culture of secrecy we were all left to guess what he was talking about.
Am I discouraged about the state of the Church? Of course. Do I think the situation is incurable? Of course not, precisely because it is the Church. And besides, as St. Peter said, “To whom shall we go?”
We hear a lot (at least in the blogosphere) about the dangers of laity usurping clerical roles and confusing them. But I see the confusion of roles going the other direction.
Our diocese recently set out rules for homeschoolers and religious ed. We must use whatever textbooks our parishes have chosen, no matter how terrible. We may not use ANY other religious curriculum at home except the (limited, pricey) items on the USCCB Conformity listing. I asked one of the tribunal canon lawyers if this didn’t infringe on the laity’s right to choose how to pass on the faith to their children–sanely, not like some crusading “CCD is corrupting our children!” homeschooling paranoid nut–I was scolded soundly and informed that canon law let the bishop control *all* aspects of religious education of children in the diocese. Any rights I had as a parent regarding the religious education of my children is, apparently, at the sole suffrance of the bishop, and his desire for uniformity in religious education therefore trumps my vocation as a mother.
Don’t get me wrong: we have a good and holy bishop, who has done great things for this diocese. I’m just floored by the raw assertion of clerical authority and the straightforward ecclesiastical brushing aside of my own vocation–admittedly a lesser vocation, but one with its own real rights and duties.
Jeanette,
I like your style! Unfortunately this encounter was over 20 years ago, so I can’t use the response.
What I did say was “Neither of us were baptized to do this either, but we’re going to.”
And he actually did help, for a bit of time.
But, that was in the heat of the moment. I realized later that we were baptized for this – since ‘this’ consisted of serving the community, making possible the handing on of the faith. (For which one often needs chairs.)
I think that some forget that they don’t get ‘unbaptized’ or made exempt from the demands of being part of the Christian faithful when they get ordained. Sometimes we all have to set up the chairs.
Fr. John, I like the way you put your point.
In the long run what is most important to each individual is that we listen to God’s will, do our best to live out whatever calling we may have in order to give HIM honor and praise. We can discuss states, vocations, callings, etc until blue in the face, bottom line is our individual responsibility is to do what it is that God calls us to do and do it as perfectly as we possibly can, with love. We are ALL called to be saints and that is what we each need to strive for despite the potholes that the enemy puts in our path. God has given us everything that we have, HE has given us HIS very Son and we need to recognize that and give thanks and praise to HIM. I may be much to simplistic but I have found that it takes most of my effort to take care of my own responsibilities. If I do that correctly then maybe, just maybe, the Holy Spirit will see fit to use me as HIS tool.
Back in the day, cardinals were treated liturgically like “Princes of the Church” (for indeed they are!) but often lived lives of personal simplicity and detachment, in small Roman apartments, or in drafty rural “palaces;” and likewise with bishops. These days they almost all trip over themselves to repudiate and denigrate all of the various traditional liturgical courtesies, but they live privately like the C.E.O.’s of major corporations. I have flown to and from Rome a number of times, on several airlines, and when you see them pre-board the First Class passengers the line is almost always largely dominated by churchmen.
Surely there’s a lesson here?
Maybe the lesson is that we need to ignore their being in first class (envy?) and let them take responsibility for them-selves with God. What difference to my soul does it make whether my doctor, congressman, school principal, or the man next door appears to have and do more than I. To me that is all superficial, I am just glad to be on the plane!
Of course, that does not mean that when they blatantly act in defiance of God’s law that they should not be held accountable–all people should be held accountable for their actions regardless of their station in life, you (everyone) and me (most definitely) included. How else is anyone going to be able to learn and/or repent for their actions? It is up to God to take care of whatever HE sees and knows as HE sees and knows far more than we ever could.
I apologize in advance for saying what others may well have said above, but as one who was “brought up” so to speak with the Shaw-Opus Dei criticism of lay imitation of clerics (not that it isn’t valid), I would have to say that in more recent years I have become much more frustrated with what may well be the older version of clericalism: where the clerics look out for their own class interests and do not always have only the best interests of the faithful at heart. Of course my examples are from the Right, not the Left: how the bishop and clergy of this diocese refused a generous application of the traditional liturgy, as Pope John Paul asked, because it did not suit THEIR agendas, never mind that it might have helped some of the faithful (you will recall Bill Buckley’s plaintive question some time ago, to the effect of: “Isn’t there room in the Church for people of taste and education, too?”); the same for the troubles that were made here and elsewhere for Anglican Usage parishes, because the liberal clerics feared “sheep-stealing” or the like, or alternatively they were worried about the married clergy–never mind that the poor sheep might be better ministered to in the AU environment, it was to be resisted at all costs because of what it said about the progressive cleric and his style, or else the married cleric would cause the bishop trouble with others in the diocese whose heads would explode.
And then I don’t know if anyone else has experienced this, but I cannot get the conservative priests that I talk to to give me a straight answer about certain things: ask an Opus or Legionary priest whether they will say the TLM and see if you get anything more than a brush off or a sanitized “for publication” answer. The examples could be multiplied indefinitely.
One begins to sense that we still have with us the great divide in trust between the clergy and the laity that Rosmini spoke of as one of the Five Wounds of the Church. Maybe it is because we are all stupid and they cannot trust us, but I for one am no longer in a mood to tolerate it.
Woody:
Thanks for that. At some point in the next couple of days I’m going to get to another post on this, touching on the points you raise because they are important and are pointing to the core of what I was trying to reach for in my own post.
Maybe the lesson is that we need to ignore their being in first class (envy?) and let them take responsibility for themselves with God.
Sure, let’s ignore everything untoward appearance. Nothing really bad could come of that, right?
As a parish priest, here are the most prevalent signs of clericalism I observe, in no particular:
1) What Woody James in #45 identifies as looking for the clerical class interests over the best interests of the faithful. Does anybody deny that the Crisis and the grudging response of the bishops was occasioned by this?
2) The “neo-clericalism” of lay ecclesial ministers, as oft-complained about here and elsewhere. This occurs at both the chancery and parochial levels.
3) Within priests of a diocese, I find that we tend not to peg each other by criteria that the laity might consider: conservative vs. progressive, for example. It is based more on personal interests and history: seminary classmates, golf partners, mutual hobbies and sports, and the like. Only those priests tagged as extreme conservatives (like myself) or progressives get cubbyholed by ideological/theological positions. And even then personal qualities might trump that: I know of an ultra-conservative pastor in a progressive diocese who was well-beloved among the priests due to his evident saintliness, gentle personality, and willingness to play golf at the drop of a hat with other priests.
4) Priests’ own internal hierarchy in CA seems based more on date of ordination than any other factor. This trumps even theological position, reputation of work, and size/wealth of parish as factors.
5) In California where I am, the multicultural reality of priesthood is quite apparent. Communicating across the ethnic and language lines can be quite difficult. It doesn’t help that the native English-speaking priests tend to be older and have difficulty assimilating that native English-speaking non-Hispanic white Catholics are a distinct minority in the Church of this state.
My two cents.
Most priests can give examples of how favoritism among clergy creates the situation often labeled clericalism. Not to deny that actual clericalism exists, but seen from the inside it is not so obvious. Look at who gets what parish assignments, who gets made a monsignor, who gets to be the bishop’s assistant etc.
But this kind of thing exists in any organization. People with some power often play favorites. And often it is harmful to the organization’s mission. Like the sickness in the example, it’s part of the fallen world we live in.
My point would be that those who fly first class are no better and no worse than economy, or even ‘free’ seats.
People should not be judged by their place in line just because of how they ‘look’. All looks can be decieving, the looks of clerics and the looks of ‘regular folk’. I am speaking in generalities because that is how most people seem to think. Any of us can be judged by our positions, our clothing, our looks, that however, does not make it right. I would prefer not to be judged but if I am then I want to be judged on my actions and my intentions not on exteriors. We are talking about people, human beings, and what right do we have to judge the actions of anyone without knowledge of their intentions? That is still God’s domain. Granted that ‘clerics’ are held to a higher standard because we have decided that they have a higher calling but they are still human beings. Not to judge is difficult but it is what we have been told to do by Christ Himself.
As one of the clerics you invite to respond, I can add my two cents.
First of all, it is necessary to distinguish between a higher CALLING and a higher level of SANCTITY. St. Augustine said it well: “It is better to be celibate than to be married, but I, the celibate, am not better than Abraham.” All priests have a higher calling, but I’m morally certain that some laity have reached a higher level of sanctity than some priests.
As for clericalism, I’ve had to sort out things along the way. I was in the seminary in the 70′s when things were pretty crazy at times. It was drilled into me that priests should not “lord” it over the people, and I still agree with that. I realized after a while, though, that the over empasis on one danger encouraged another: the priest abdicating his authority. I would say that it is something like what happens with some parents who try to be a “buddy” to their children when the children need a parent. People do not need a tyrant, but they need a priest who will BE a priest with the authority he should have, as St. Paul says, for building up the community and not for destruction.
After having rashly cited Rosmini on the absence of trust between clergy and laity I went back and really read fully that section of his book, “The Five Wounds of the Church”, written in 1832. In the part of interest here, he seems to be saying actually that the problem was a lack of unity among clergy and people in worship, due to (1) only “material” instruction (meaning, I believe, rote instruction in the catechism by catechists who had not seriously delved deeper into the truths of the Faith themselves — kind of like the professor that Vladimir Nabokov referred to in passing in the novel “Pnin”, one who in teaching French only had to keep one lesson ahead of the students in his learning the subject), and (2) incomprehension of what happens at Mass, again due to inadequate teaching. Interestingly, he emphatically does NOT advocate Mass in the vernacular, giving reasons that sound as if they came off the Latin Liturgy Association web site, but instead seems to envision a more serious study of Latin-vernacular parallel text missals as the solution.
This leads me to expand somewhat on my earlier rant to include the lack of unity among clergy and people that still may be found in many places, as a result of the old, but not discarded, notion that clerical originality in the liturgy is helpful. I do not want to argue here that it is never useful, but simply to suggest that in any locality there should be at least an option for those of us who feel that we are ministered to better by the reverent, older style (either N.O. or E.F.). Too often this diversity in the good sense is lacking, and at times (you all can recall the notorious examples) because of episcopal mandate. Again, do they think that the more “traditional” or”conservative” sheep are just chopped liver? They can have Spanish and Vietnamese Masses but heaven forfend having too many Latin ones, whether in the Ordinary or Extraordinary, forms.
So I come around to thinking that in part this problem is that a certain party spirit exists within clerical, as well lay, circles. I would characterize it generally as a divide between those who believe the Council was a rupture with the past of the Church, and those who believe it was meant to be a reform in continuity with the past–having in mind Pope Benedict’s analysis on 22 December 2005. Interpreted through this lens, some things seem clearer: e.g. the Mass at Nationals Stadium as a clear statement of defiance by the rupture group.
And I confess to having that same party spirit as well: if the rupture group wins, you may forward my mail to Kyiv.