Writing Columns

At first glance, it would appear that a column for women might not have much to say about the Catholic priesthood, but such an assumption would be gravely wrong. All souls are intertwined in their collaborative efforts at living virtue and achieving heaven. Furthermore, vocations rise and fall together — meaning that when families thrive, vocations to the priesthood and religious life prosper, and when one segment of the Church encounters setbacks, the wider communion suffers as a consequence.

One need not illustrate the point that all vocations at present need rejuvenation, encouragement, and divine assistance. Pope Benedict has chosen to petition God for the essential light and leaven needed by the whole Church by concentrating on the priesthood. For this we are enormously grateful and filled with hope for the Mystical Body.

Priests are indispensable to the faithful, who depend on the graces of the sacraments that only those in holy orders can provide. While some administrative functions can be delegated, authentic priestly duties cannot — the most obvious being confecting the Eucharist and absolving our sins. At the outset of this extraordinary year, we might be hard-pressed to expand beyond those two items (and even wonder at their worth, in this age of slack Mass attendance and near abandonment of confession); but, God willing, by the end of this time of grace we will have a far deeper appreciation for the wider, often hidden oblation to which these remarkable men are called.

While priests can easily get bogged down in parish details and financial challenges, their vocation is ultimately “directed at the unfolding of the baptismal grace of all Christians. The ministerial priesthood is a means by which Christ unceasingly builds up and leads his Church” (CCC, 1547). If priests occasionally lose sight of this, the lay faithful should not add to their burden by pulling them off task or failing to appreciate the “gift and mystery” that Christ bequeathed to us on Holy Thursday.

A man called to holy orders is asked to imitate Christ in a tangible way, being “present to his Church as head of his Body, shepherd of his flock, high priest of the redemptive sacrifice, teacher of the truth” (CCC, 1548). This may not sound very tangible to those absorbed in secular pursuits, financial hardships or medical ordeals — but it is more substantial than what we consider the most concrete reality. It is reality — the reality that matters, the reality that grounds all our other actions and gives transcendent meaning to every life. It is precisely by losing sight of this that we’ve come to our present morass.

As we consider the long history of salvation, we see in hindsight that God has revealed a plan that unfolds according to the nature of those he uses to bring it forth. Some are beautifully docile, some are more distracted, and others simply delay in taking him seriously. The Holy Spirit is always at work, and he has led Pope Benedict to turn our attention towards the priesthood. Therefore, we trust that through our prayer, study and deeper appreciation of holy orders, all of society can be uplifted and the greater culture enhanced if we participate fully.

Priests come from families where women have a great influence — for better or worse. Priests minister to families, and women can facilitate that work — or hinder it. As living icons of Christ the eternal bridegroom, priests seek to serve holy Mother Church — and women who learn to receive their gifts will enrich the wider Church by giving flesh to the radiant bride herself. Imagine the limitless graces in that truth.

[The Anchor 7.3.09]

We’re awash in the annual festival of pink and red, with its not-so-subtle reminders that love is best expressed in cards, flowers and candy. Whatever the pious origins of Valentine’s Day, it’s now a commercial bonanza for anyone “in a relationship” (to use the FaceBook term). As obsessed as our culture is with “young love” on any given day, we’ve come to expect the sentiment to go into overdrive at this time of year, and often the shallowest understanding of love finds expression in the loftiest of venues.

No matter. We all lived through the crushes, the anxiety of waiting, the delight in little expressions of affection. It was a bittersweet and harmless rite of passage, but now we know more. We know what lasts. We recognize silly heartfelt gestures for what they are, but find a deeper comfort in more enduring tokens. Suffering heartaches, loneliness, illnesses and the loss of loved ones has deepened our ability to consider the nature of true love, for consolation and wisdom like this can only come with time.

This year, perhaps a way to make a difference would be to share this appreciation with our priests. If anyone deserves love and gestures of gratitude, it is they. While we see the limited more visible portions of their ministry, we don’t see their quiet devotion to their bride, the Church.

The priest is similar to any devoted husband, who expresses his affection concretely. There are the prayers, devotions and sacraments. Priests minister to those who are sick, who are grieving, and who are struggling with life’s crushing blows. The priests patiently teach their flocks, pay the bills, fix the roofs and juggle the priorities — wondering how to fit it all in a given week. While they await the fruits of the new springtime, at present they often cover more than one parish and find their limited resources stretched even further. The consolation of priestly fraternity from long ago has slipped away, leaving many living alone, eating alone, and praying alone.

And yet they persevere.

So what would a valentine to a priest entail? He doesn’t need another black sweater or rosary. He may or may not have a sweet tooth. Even the most devoted golfer only needs so many personalized tees.

Instead, pray and sacrifice for your priests. They are perpetually available for your prayer requests year-round, having lifted up your intentions for every needy loved one. Now is the time to assure them of your prayers for their intentions — which are abundant. While they fervently pray for the sanctification of their flock, they need graces for their own pilgrimage. Remember that the accumulated distress of the souls entrusted to them requires heroic measures of hope to see God in the darkness. Their fidelity will be buoyed by our sacrifices.

Support your priests. Trust that they must always deal with a variety of diverse personalities and have to discern how best to carry out God’s holy will. It isn’t easy. Take the Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers anecdote and twist it: “These men have to dance blindly with hundred pound weights on every limb.” Lighten their load with sincere expressions of your support and appreciation for their vocations. We need them.

Finally, love your priests. Consider them your brothers in faith — “in a relationship.” Not just any relationship — but wed to a spotless bride for whom they would lay down their lives on any given day. If any example of love isn’t saccharine or shallow, it’s the life of a faithful priest, modeled on the divine love of Jesus himself. And that’s a gift to treasure.

[The Anchor 2.13.09]

During this Year for Priests, the laity are asked to pray in a special, more intense way for their priests and for priestly vocations. The mission of the Church depends on the integrity of these men, and the spiritual life of our children and grand-children will be deeply affected by the outcome of our prayers.

Is there more, though, that we could be doing? In the case of women — who will never be called to holy orders — is there anything specific to our feminine genius that could contribute to the priestly mission through which so many graces flow? Perhaps a glimpse into Jesus’ life could help us to discern our specific calling.

During the Passion, when Jesus was stripped and scourged, we learn that the tunic that he was wearing was “woven in one piece from top to bottom and had no seam” (John 19:24). The account of the soldiers casting lots for this precious garment reminds us that the detail was important enough to be prophesied in the Scriptures.

Doubtless his mother wove the linen fabric herself and created the seamless tunic, and if we consider her nature we might imagine that she reflected as she sewed, particularly on the 16th chapter of Leviticus which described the high priest’s garments. Such a tunic was worn by the high priest on the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur), the most sacred day of the year for the Jewish people. On that day, commemorating the second time that Moses received the Commandments from God, the people prayed in reparation for their sins while the high priest offered sacrifices on their behalf.

Being both a descendent of Aaron and intimately familiar with the Torah, Mary’s creation of this singular work must have been deliberate, indicating that she was intensely aware of her Son’s priestly mission. Having clothed him in flesh, she then collaborated lovingly with Joseph to teach him about the law and the prophets, and formed him by means of the domestic Church. Finally she provided for him the telling garment that would identify him for the ages as the priest who would offer the ultimate sacrifice. (As an aside, it is interesting that in the case of Our Lord, neither she who prepared the garment nor he who wore it were in need of such atonement, and yet they contributed the essential elements on which our redemption rests.)

So what is the lesson for women today, and how can we benefit by such a reflection? If we consider her work, her teaching and her tears, it becomes obvious that Mary’s heart was intimately wrapped around the work of her Son. She joined her motherly care to his priestly work out of intense concern for the flock entrusted to him.

No creature suffered as Mary did during the Passion, no human love matched hers for depth, and no finite oblation matched hers for its purity. She always knew that such darkness was on the horizon because of the Simeon’s prophecy after the birth of Jesus — and yet she lived a steadfast faith without shrinking from it.

So in addition to our prayers, we must offer our sacrifices in a spirit of oblation, joining the hardships that come our way to the mission of priests everywhere. One need hardly look for extra suffering — given the hazards of loving in a fallen world. If we fearlessly embrace our obligations and endeavor to love whole-heartedly, our physical, emotional and spiritual sufferings can then be laid on the altar and transformed with the bread and wine into the very flesh of Christ — just as Mary did.

[The Anchor 9.18.09]

On June 23rd, the Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral of Providence, RI opened her arms to embrace three new priests, who were ordained in a marvelous ceremony that showed the Church at her finest. Bishop Thomas Tobin was supported by five fellow bishops, scores of priests, numerous joyful Religious, and delighted lay faithful—all of whom soaked in the inspiring setting: the creative floral sprays, the magnificent orchestral ensemble, the full-throated choir and a liturgy that bespoke our rich tradition.

One of the deepest paradoxes of our faith is that its simple truths motivate artists to create magnificent and often complex works, and the humility of our scourged Redeemer gives life to such triumphant illustrations of fidelity and hope. Each is meant to be a signpost of the transcendent truths that give meaning to our lives—showing us the surest path in an uncertain world. These three young men have discovered that path and heeded the Voice that called them to minister to their fellow pilgrims. For that we rejoice.

As deeply moving as the Mass of Ordination was on this fine Summer day, I couldn’t help but wonder about other ordinations that have taken place over the centuries, and in particular I wondered about the circumstances in the 16th century seminary begun at Douay, France—later shuffled about, suppressed, reopened, and shuffled some more—forming priests amidst the religious chaos of Europe. English men came to France, and were ordained and sent back to England in cognito to offer the sacraments to their countrymen whose Catholic faith at that time was a capital offense.

What were those ordinations like? Were there flowers and pomp? Crowds of well-wishers or lavish receptions afterwards? Probably not, but I can imagine that the prayers were intense, of the caliber that few attain without persecution to distill the thoughts. Moreover, we might include many ordinations in this light—those behind the Iron Curtain, in concentration camps and gulags, and anywhere that Christ’s words are unwelcome. Even Karol Wojtyla—who became John Paul II—knew what it was to study in secret and take Holy Orders in the quietest of settings.

As Bishop Tobin remarked concerning these young men: this is the day for which they were born. From all eternity, they were chosen to be configured to Christ, so that they might strengthen the flock and guide them safely. Young Fr. Wojtyla had his challenges, and these men will have theirs. The world is no different, only the trials have taken new shape. These men embark on their mission in a time as trying as any, with political and cultural complexities threatening the flock using deft new slogans that mask ancient and exhausted lies.

And thus we return to the simple truth. There is a God, we are his, and his Son came to claim us. From the outset, the divine plan of redemption includes a Church that would nourish, inspire, and exhort—giving witness all the while by her fidelity. In a homily just days prior, our auxiliary bishop commemorated the deaths of John Fisher and Thomas More who gave their lives for this simple truth. Bishop Evans stressed that they didn’t die for God alone, but also for the Church instituted to continue his presence among us—and even now, we see her threatened by those who misunderstand her mission.

The Church for which they died was resplendent this beautiful day, and will remain so whether decked in splendor or hidden in catacombs. Our love casts diadems about her regal neck, but our faith in Christ would honor her wherever she is found. Pray for these young men, for priests everywhere, and for ample vocations in the coming years.

The altercation took place outside after Mass one bright Sunday morning just before Christmas. “These are my people,” insisted one young priest. “No, they’re mine!” retorted the other, light-heartedly, but in earnest.

Guarding Their “Territory”

One was the assistant pastor of the parish, ordained less than two years. The other was the chaplain of a nearby Catholic high school where many in the town sent their sons. He was also vocations director of the diocese and keenly interested in uncovering the priestly vocations God was calling to serve these New England Catholics in the coming decades. Thus both had a claim on being shepherds to this particular parish, whose pastor had departed for a short respite before the demands of the holidays intensified.

Being fond of both, I enjoyed the exchange, but there was a deeper meaning, which only became evident upon reflection later in the day. What were they fighting over? To what reality were they laying claim in view of “whose people” these were? It was none other than the loving concern of a “father,” which both men felt strongly as more than just an age-old title or word mumbled by generations of parochial school children. By the very reality of their ordinations to the priesthood, these two men — young as they were — sincerely embraced a spiritual fatherhood that indicated a call to protect and provide for a given “family” in a territorial way.

Abandoned Territory

What crystallized the essence of their playful joust was an article in the local diocesan paper that week concerning a single mother whom the local church was trying to help. As the article opened, we were introduced to this “43-year-old mother of four sons [who] remembers growing up on a rural farm in El Salvador. Her father harvested just enough food to feed his large family.” This hard-working woman moved to the United States over two decades ago, where she undertook numerous difficult jobs, married, had her children. Then her husband left.

What the diocese is offering to this woman and countless others in like need is help through access to a local food pantry, classes to transition her from welfare to work, and various gift cards. Her landlord is kind enough to keep her rent at a manageable level, and many contribute to her boys’ clothing and school needs. She notes, “In school, I am preparing myself to find a job and go to work. I want to be able to support my family.” One has to be impressed with her diligence and integrity to meet her obligations in her difficult situation.

But one has to also read between the lines. This lengthy front-page article only devotes two words to the underlying cause of all her distress. “Now divorced…” Just a passing reference to the unraveling of a family unit, a domestic church, the heartache of four boys who were abandoned by the man who should watch over them and provide all the elements that numerous agencies and generous hearts struggled to replace. The distress of reading the article was the way the crux of the matter was overlooked in order to emphasize how the brokenness was under repair. Of all corners in the world, the Church should see how one man’s neglect of duty can only be marginally covered by well-meaning strangers. No doubt, this article was not the place to hash out the personal saga that led to this tragedy, but the essential point is that we have to work harder to define tragedies for what they are and to prevent them happening whenever possible.

Thus, the contrast between the suffering caused by one man’s neglect and the friendly battle over the duties of spiritual fatherhood is important. We read of the pain inflicted on five people by this one husband who walked away from his responsibilities. On the other hand, I have seen both of these priests quoted above (and countless others) cringe over their little mistakes, deeply lament lost children, and forego their own comforts to tend to the needs of others. They pray over souls entrusted to them, serve them in every way imaginable, and cling to the sacraments as a lifeline in their ferociously difficult work. These men — and so many sharing Holy Orders with them — are fathers in every sense of the word and I have every reason to believe they would lay down their lives for their children.

The Essential Vocation of Fathers

John Paul II wrote about fatherhood early in his pontificate. Looking at the vocation of each father as being of “unique and irreplaceable importance,” he warned that, “[a]s experience teaches, the absence of a father causes psychological and moral imbalance and notable difficulties in family relationships” (Familiaris Consortio, 25). Or, in the simple words of the woman being profiled, “It’s not easy for a single woman to take care of children alone. It’s very hard.”

To extrapolate on this one story on families, we can look at the staggering statistics on divorce, child abandonment, and poverty. To consider the spiritual dimension, we would look at the hardships of the faithful who have suffered from priests who have strayed — from their own moral integrity, from diligence to their responsibilities to form and protect their parish families, or from the demands of Holy Orders completely — leaving their brides, the local parish communities in myriad places, to a life that is “very hard.”

Let us pray for fathers everywhere. We can thank the fathers of families and faithful priests who have worked quietly and diligently for the good of their flocks. We can speak out when fatherhood is disparaged or mocked. We can forgive those who have not responded to God’s graces and still encourage them to fulfill their “irreplaceable” responsibilities. We can celebrate the Fatherhood of God from Whom all fathers take their name. We can honor their legitimate authority through cheerful obedience and loving support.

As families and parish communities struggle, we have to recognize that there is a dark force working to marginalize the very protection that would shield souls from it. Men struggle to meet their commitments, but need supernatural help — as does everyone. Prayer and sacrifice for the vocation of fatherhood would be an excellent intention for this Lenten season, and one that would give back to the entire Body of Christ in immeasurable ways. Let’s do it together — for the family.