4th Sunday of Easter
This is of course Vocations Sunday. It is a truism to say that this is a rather difficult time for priests. But then it is a difficult time for parents too, for teachers, and, dare I say it, for politicians too. In fact all authority figures are subjected to rigorous questioning. I believe the priesthood of Jesus Christ has lost none of its validity, is as salvific today as it was in his day. But perhaps the manner in which we practice it leaves much to be desired. There is a great loss of nerve among many, many priests. Many are angry, feel let down, disillusionment. This disillusionment is well captured by the priest-poet Padraig Daly in his poem: The Last Dreamers, a poem I have quoted more than once here. Daly's poem could be applied to any profession, but the fact that he is himself a priest counts for something:
We began in bright certainty,
your will was a master plan
Lying open before us.
Sunlight blessed us,
Fields of birds sang for us,
Rainfall was your kindness tangible.
But our dream was flawed;
And we hold it now,
Not in ecstasy but in dogged loyalty,
Waving our tattered flags after the war,
Helping the wounded across the desert.
Priesthood was transmitted to us through clerical structures. The rigid structures reflected the rigid structures abroad in society. Rules and regulations seemed to mushroom, fertilised by the nature of the structure. There was a series of Maynooth Statutes which regulated the life of the priest. One of these rules decreed that a female couldn't travel in the front seat of a car driven by a priest. The regulation didn't specify where exactly she should be situated, perhaps in a trailer behind! Clericalism regarded women with great suspicion. All contact with them was frowned upon. As Christians we believe that God's face is revealed to us through our fellow human beings. Clericalism dictated that half of God's face should be hidden. The real crime was that it was the most beautiful half that was hidden! Understandably then, this vision of priesthood contained a dark, barren strand: Padraig Daly has another poem which captures well what I perceive to be this barren experience of priesthood.
The poem is called "Sagart":
You have many acquaintances, few friends;
Besides your unreplying God you have no confident.
Nevertheless you lift your hat to all. Old ladies
Especially will seek you out,
sometimes a sinner.
You are a guest at many celebrations,
a must at birth or death.
Sometimes you wonder whether this is how God intended it."
When that closed system was exposed to the social liberties emerging in society in the 1970s, it all but collapsed. The extent of that collapse will be made clear from the Augustinian experience: over 80 students were studying for the priesthood in the Irish Augustinians when I joined in 1969. Today we have one, and the metre is still running! I would suggest that it is clericalism rather than the Priesthood itself which has collapsed. And I personally will be sparing in my tears for its demise. Clericalism is merely incidental to the office of priesthood. The institutional Church made the mistake of viewing it as essential.
Yet, despite all this, there is room for hope. Andrew Greeley conducted a study among the priests of the archdiocese of Washington only last year. He found a very high level of satisfaction among those interviewed. When compared with other professions of similar education standards, priesthood had a much higher 'job satisfaction' level. In fact, 95 per cent of them said that, if they were starting out on life again, the would take the very same path. My own experience of Priesthood has been almost entirely positive. The privileged access we have to the souls of the Christian people is truly humbling. We are invited to accompany people on some awe-inspiring journeys, whether the birth of a child, marriage, life crises, or death. Ironically, on a personal level, I have learned more about life from death than from birth. We are there because we are seen to be making some effort to follow the humble man from Nazareth. We are not there because of our own personalities, or any unique talents or gifts we may have personally. We are there because we are perceived to have learned something from the teachings of Jesus. When people invite us to join them on a journey -especially an excruciatingly difficult journey- their only expectation is that we would remind them (perhaps not in so many words) that their God has walked this path before them. The sooner we priests awake to this central truth of our lives, the sooner will morale be restored. The sooner we leave go of all this clericalism and control stuff, the better for ourselves and, more to the point, the better for the gospel. Our God is bigger than any system. We should have confidence in him and hope for the future.