The Heart of A Shepherd and the Heart of a Lion

Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone
Cordileone translates as "heart of
a lion." Lions have been known
to eat sheep.

I had the opportunity not too long ago to visit friends who have recently moved to Dallas Texas and bought a lovely home in a rather posh suburb.  Not that the house was overdone, but it was a bit like staying with J.R. and Sue Ellen Ewing.  While the cook prepared dinner, we settled into Andy’s “Den”—a book lined room with Persian rugs, walnut paneling, and a brass chandelier that looked like it had been stolen from Hampton Court.  Andy pressed a button and the bookshelves slid back to reveal a fully-stocked wet bar.  “It’s called a ‘Baptist Bar’,” Andy told me, “because when the Pastor or one of the church deacons would come to dinner, it would be hidden by the ‘books.’  They aren’t real books, you see” he said pointing at the shelves,” just blocks of wood pointed to look like old books.  What would a Southern Baptist do with books anyway?  Down here, books are for burning.” 

A ‘Baptist Bar;’ I loved it.  I was relating this story at lunch when one of my colleagues—a priest—mentioned that he had once done a wedding between one of his then parishioners, a Catholic,  and the daughter of a Mormon Bishop.  “The Catholic family had to pay for the band and for the booze,” Father said.  “But the groom’s father—an immigrant from Italy—said that he couldn’t invite his friends and relatives to a ‘wedding’ where there was no dancing and nothing (alcoholic) to drink.  In the end, the Mormons were out there on the dance floor having a great time.”  But did they drink, I asked.  “Well, let me tell you,” Father responded.  “I got to be friends with the bride’s uncle and his wife and they were knocking back gins and tonic all evening.  They said that gins and tonic are the Mormon beverage of choice because you can always claim that you are drinking club soda, and who’s to know.” 

This led another colleague of mine to tell of his experience at Wheaton College, an evangelical Christian College in the Chicago suburbs that has some very strict policies set forth in its ‘Community Covenant’ to which all students, members of the faculty, and employees must conform.  These policies are not unreasonable for a Christian institution and they limit the use of alcohol both on and off campus and proscribe use of illicit substances, non-marital sex (gay or straight), pornography, withcraft, plagiarism, obscene or vulgar language, as well as more difficult things to pin down such as pride or jealousy.  In 2004 Wheaton terminated the teaching position of Joshua Hochschild when Hochschild, a professor of Medieval Philosophy, converted to Roman Catholicism.  Wheaton President at the time, A. Dwayne Litfin, said that Roman Catholicism was incompatible with Wheaton’s dedication to Evangelical Principles on the sovereignty of Scriptural Revelation.  (Hochschild disagreed but moved on to teach at Mount Saint Mary’s University in Emmitsburg Maryland—a Catholic equivalent of Wheaton’s sectarian fortress.  By the way, while both Wheaton and Mount Saint Mary’s are somewhat closed-circuit institutions, unlike some other “bubble schools” they have respectable academic reputations and should not be short-sold on that account.)  Four years after Hochshild moved on, tenured professor Kent Gramm left Wheaton for Gettysburg College rather than disclose the reasons for his divorce to school officials.  All this is to demonstrate the strict standards that Wheaton sets for the members of its academic community.  But the reality of where people are at and what they do under the dark of night, according my colleague, is quite different.  To find out more, I called a friend of mine with whom I used to teach and who is a Wheaton alumnus, whose elder son also graduated from Wheaton and whose younger boy is currently a student there.  “I think there is less promiscuity on the campus there than there is at most schools, but it’s no “virgin territory.”  Whether you are gay or straight, there is plenty of opportunity to make connections.  As for the alcohol, I think it is well hidden, but as much, if not more, than at a place like Princeton.  Drugs—I don’t know.  From what I hear there are some—there are always some—but it is pretty much in the shadows and not talked about much.”

At the end of the day, it is all about the mystery of sin and grace. Where there is sin—and there will always be sin—there will also be grace and in ever greater measures.  We don’t sin so that grace will be prevail, but despite our moral principles, the reality of life is that there are—at the end of the day—no blacks and no whites.  As attributed to Cardinal Newman: “none of us are as good as we should be or as bad as we could be.” 

I am not writing about Baptists or Mormons or Wheaton College—or even Cardinal Newman—but about Archbishop Cordileone and his insistence that all faculty and staff at the four High Schools run by the Archdiocese of San Francisco both agree and, in their personal lives, conform to a policy statement that declares same-sex marriage, sex outside of (heterosexual) marriage, masturbation, pornography, artificial insemination, and other forms of “artificial reproductive technology” are “gravely evil.”  We need standards to be set.  I don’t have a problem with that.  It is up to the Church to set the standards for its members—and for those engaged in its mission even if they are not members.  I have no problem with that.  These are Catholic teachings and I have no problem with that. 

What I do have a problem with is when we expect people to live up to the standards.  Some of us will, some of the time.  All of us will, at one time or another, fall short of the standards.  That is the sin part of the equation.  But this isn’t Wheaton College; this is the Church of Jesus Christ.  When a person falls short of the standards, we accept the grace to get back up—and that can only be done with the help of a loving community—and brush ourselves off, and get back on track until we fall again.  That’s the grace part of the equation.  So when an Archbishop teaches the Church entrusted to his care: this is right, this is wrong, that is his job.  (He may, of course, get it wrong and that is another problem, but it is his job to teach the truth as he understands the truth.) But it is not his job to arm himself with a club to beat down the sinner who stumbles and falls. The policy statement set forth by Archbishop Cordileone is precisely that.  It gives him the grounds to fire anyone who fails to live up to, in his personal life, the ideals set forth by the Catholic Church, when a Bishop’s mandate is for the Shepherd to bring the sinner safely home.  But what about the person who falls over and over and over again?  The person who just doesn’t get it.  The person who just keeps sinning?  “And how often must I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Seven times?”  I think we all remember the answer to that question. 

A priest I know, a man of good heart but a congenital idiot when it comes to theology, gave a sermon some years ago about “The Good Shepherd.”  “A Shepherd,” he told his flock, “when confronted with a lamb that will not heed his directions, must sometimes break the leg of the lamb.  He then carries the lamb on his shoulder until the leg heals and this creates a bond of dependency that ties the sheep to its shepherd.  There are times,” this worthy priest said to his parishioners, “that I will have to break your leg to teach you to follow me as I lead you home to safe pastures.”  Whooo boy, where do we even start?  I don’t recall Jesus using that particular example in his teaching about Good Shepherds.  We don’t need Shepherds—mitered or otherwise—who go around breaking the legs of their sheep: even if for good purpose.  If only we could make people be good!!!  But we have the more difficult task of calling one another to the change of heart without breaking a leg or firing the lost sheep.

A Follow Up With Some Thoughts On Mandatory Celibacy

Rereading my last post several hours after it went up I came across a statement that unfortunately is very unnuanced and which I want to correct.  I had mentioned that Archbishop Laud, like many churchmen before and since “could make celibacy look like an option for holiness rather than a cover for psychological struggles.”  This sounds as if I do not think there is a positive value for clerical celibacy or that celibacy is indicative of a psychological disorder when in fact I believe that in a mature, or maturing, individual celibacy can indeed be “an option for holiness” and is totally compatible with a healthy psyche.  I do not believe, however, that celibacy, especially when it is not a choice one can freely make and still follow one’s vocational pursuit, is automatically healthy much less holy.  I know many priests and religious who are profoundly holy and mentally healthy; I also know many whose psychosexual development is severely arrested to the detriment of their own spiritual welfare and of the welfare and even safety of those with and to whom they minister. 

The celibacy of the clergy is part of a very ancient tradition.  While celibacy as a canonical requirement for ordination can be traced in the western Church back to the Councils of Elvira (306) and of Orange (441), it would be centuries before it became universal law in the Western Church.  There are a number of factors that contributed to it.  First there developed a very negative attitude towards human sexuality and there were various decrees insisting that priests abstain from sexual intimacy with their wives for a set period (usually 1-3 days) before celebrating the Eucharist.  It was, thus, a purity requirement.  Secondly, with the rise of monasticism in the fourth and fifth centuries, it became more and more common to choose bishops from among the monks—who were celibate—and not infrequently these monastic bishops did not have a positive appreciation of marriage or marital sexuality.  That may explain, to a certain degree, the decision at the aforesaid Councils.   Through the early Middle Ages celibacy became more and more expected of the clergy and the problem of hereditary churches—churches and church property passing from priest-father to priest-son to priest-grandson—would lead to proscription’s against clerical marriage.  This problem was limited more or less to the Western Church.  In the Eastern Churches after the fifth century bishops were invariably monastics and ecclesial preferment was limited to celibates, but the pastoral care, especially in rural churches, was entrusted to married priests and deacons.  In fact, most priests in rural parishes of the west were married as well, it was just that the Church did not recognize their marriages nor the legitimacy of their children which barred the children from themselves being ordained or inheriting property—thus solving the inherited church problem.  It was not uncommon for the secular clergy even in the large cities, and even for bishops and archbishops, to be in what today we would call a common law marriage.  While the Reform Canons of the 11^th century “Gregorian Reform” outlawed clerical marriage—and declared all such marriages to be invalid—it was only in the 16^th century reforms of the Council of Trent that there was any significant enforcement of clerical celibacy.  And even then—and now—it is not entirely successful as there are priests and even bishops who are for all practical purposes in a somewhat less than formal marriage.  Only recently I came across the story of a priest who has just retired from active duty as an Army Chaplain who has been civilly married at least twice with the knowledge of both his military and ecclesiastical superiors.  Some years back during a trip to Africa I was invited to lunch with a Bishop with whom I am acquainted.  His wife and three teenage children were all at the table.  Their presence was not explained to me in anyway but the priest-friend who accompanied me that day confirmed my surmises.  Both these men are highly effective ministers and neither is particularly “liberal” in their theological views. Those who do not know their particular stories would undoubtedly consider them both to be “good priests.”  While I must admit that I have found the chaplain to be a man for whom I personally do not have respect, it is not because of his marriages per se but rather what I perceive to be a general lack of integrity; I can’t but stand in awe of the Bishop whose selfless work in building a strong Church under the most challenging of conditions, I have seen over many years.  More to the point of this posting, whatever the irregularity of life of either of these two men, my dealings with them have shown them to be psychologically mature and well-integrated men. 

On the other hand, I have seen some of the grossest psychological and spiritual immaturity on the part of some priests who conform to celibacy.  I remember an American priest I knew in my Rome days—he was a confessor at Saint Peter’s where he was known for his rigid penances and the somewhat prurient questions with which he would interrogate penitents, going far beyond not only what is required but what is allowed a priest to ask a penitent.  Younger members of his Religious community learned to give him great distance as he had a tendency to “violate boundaries” in his relationships with them.  He was considered a saint by those outside his community but those who lived with him found him controlling, sly, untruthful, and manipulative. 

The fuss that some priest have created in refusing communion to those whom they suspect—even with good reason—of not conforming to Church teaching regarding human sexuality: abortion, masturbation, same-sex relationships, etc., and even more their self-righteousness in defending their position when summoned by their bishops or criticized by their parishioners, indicates a probable lack of psychosexual integration. Indeed, the choice of judgment over compassion might well be an indication of an arrested spiritual—and probably psychological—development.       

Growing up in the 50’s and 60’s I have vivid memories of how much many of the clergy drank and how common alcoholism was among priests.  In retrospect I wonder how much of this was triggered not simply by the loneliness of celibacy for those not called to it, but by the lack of psycho-sexual maturity that mandatory celibacy fosters.

At the same time I write this, I think back on my school days and a Jesuit who taught me junior religion and senior Latin.  He was a man of exceptional kindness and compassion, a man who could look into a person’s soul and see beyond all the superficial crap right to the best of what is in the human heart.  I also think back on a priest friend of my parents—a Diocesan priest—who was the epitome of priestly modesty and discretion, but in a way that was overwhelmingly joyful.  He never drank anything stronger than tea but could sit at the piano for hours making you laugh and making you cry with music ranging from Ragtime to Verdi.  This was a man who for all his natural dignity and grace, was not above doing the laundry for a shut-in or frying up some ham and eggs for a homeless man. Celibacy can be one man’s manna and another man’s poison.  It is clear from experience that just because a man is given a vocation to the priesthood, he is not necessarily given the vocation to celibacy.  And there are more than enough men there who have opted for celibacy but who have not the “shepherd’s heart” that is a sign of an authentic priestly vocation.  

Sex and the Synod

Ron and Mavis Pirola who spoke
on sexuality at the Synod on the
Family 

I am anxious to get back to the history of Anglicanism and to tie up the reign of Queen Elizabeth so that we can move into Jacobean Anglicanism where the story takes on several curious twists and turns, but this Synod on the Family is just producing so much important news signaling some interesting developments in the Church’s History-In-The-Making that I need to give it the attention that it is due.

Ron and Mavis Pirola are an Australian Couple who have been married for fifty-five years and have four children and eight grand-children. They are co-directors of the Australian Marriage and Family Council which is an advisory body to the Australian Bishops Commission for Pastoral Life.  Pope Francis invited the Pirolas to be among the lay auditors at the Synod.  As auditors they do not vote but have speaking rights on the floor and were among the first scheduled to address the Synod.  They gave a rip-roaring talk about the role of sex in marriage that could best be titled: The Joys of Sex.  They spoke very frankly how it was sexual attraction that brought them together in the first place almost six decades ago and how it continues to play the central role in their marriage even now when they are in their seventies. 

“The little things we did for each other, the telephone calls and love notes, the way we planned our day around each other and the things we shared were outward expressions of our longing to be intimate with each other.”

As if that wasn’t hot enough for a room full of aged celibate males to take in, they became more explicit and continued

“Gradually, we came to see that the only feature that distinguishes our sacramental relationship from that of any other good Christ-centered relationship is sexual intimacy, and that marriage is a sexual sacrament with its fullest expression in sexual intercourse.”

This is great because it lifts the veil—albeit discreetly by today’s standards—from the fact that husbands and wives actually “do the dirty” and moreover it is an essential part of their sacramental life—a conversation to bring the churchmen down from their lofty intellectualized towers.  But they went far beyond that. The Pirolas also spoke about sex in more than its role in traditional marriage. They told the story of friends of theirs, also devout Catholics, whose gay son asked to bring his partner to Christmas dinner with the family.

“They fully believed in the church’s teachings and they knew their grandchildren would see them welcome the son and his partner into the family,” they said. “Their response could be summed up in three words: ‘He’s our son.’”

This has sent a legion of the neo-trads totally and completely out of their minds, admittedly not a long journey.  At the Synod, Cardinal Burke is “pained” by the proceedings.  Just as well for him, then, that he mostly likely will over on Aventine with his Knights by the 2015 follow-up meeting where the input of this year’s synod will be discussed and acted upon after a year of reflection.  His Eminence can lead the Malta-teers in practice sword charges against imaginary Islamic hordes, unless of course, he gets his rapier tangled up in that 27 feet of scarlet silk he likes to trail behind him.  Closer to home, our friends at LifeSite News are rousing the peasantry to take their torches and pitchforks and storm the Synod Aula by reporting the dangerous ideas being advocated by such figures as the Bishop of Antwerp, Johan Bonny and Archbishop of Wellington, John Dew.  Archbishop Dew is a member of the Synod; Bishop Bonny is not. 

And the mob is arming.  Just check out the Katholic Krazies and their blogs about the SinNod as they have retitled it.  Their usual hysterics totally miss the point about what is happening because they want to stick their heads in the sand and pretend that the toothpaste of the modern world can be put back into the tube of Ozzie and Harriet.  Would that that were possible, but we as Church are confronted with the task of how to bring the Good News of Salvation to a world that no longer follows the traditional norms of Christian morality.  And part of that evangelization effort requires the Church to re-evaluate its teachings to bring them into line, not with post-Christian culture—but with contemporary knowledge of the behavioral, social, and medical sciences.   Doctrine is not something static.  It never has been.  Our understanding of the Truth is something that develops through history.  It took the Church three centuries to be able to formulate the doctrine of the Trinity.  It took the same amount of time to articulate clearly the Divine Nature of Jesus Christ.  This is not say that the ante-Nicene “Fathers” of the Church did not believe either doctrine, but both doctrines required drastic paradigm shifts from the Church’s origins in a rigidly monotheistic Judaism that could not begin to comprehend God as being personalized in three distinct persons or in how a human being, Jesus of Nazareth, could share fully in the Divine Nature.  Similarly, the oldest stories of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary date from the fourth century but it was not until the 8^th century that it found itself officially accepted in the Western Church and only in the 20^th was it defined as an infallible dogma.  The precise nature of Christ’s presence in the Eucharist was a matter of debate until the 13^th century at the Fourth Lateran Council and even subsequent to that definition, the doctrine has been refined by subsequent councils and papal teachings.  Truth is eternal but our appreciation of the Truth is evolutionary. 

At the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth, the threat of modernism, a heresy which undermines the objectivity of Truth, led to an almost total paralysis of Catholic theological scholarship.  This radically changed the dynamic by which academic theology “informs” the Magisterium and left the Magisterium on its intellectual own—a precarious stance for intellectual credibility at any point of history.  The work of theologians in the first half of the 20^th century was at best ignored and far too often censured in what was a theological dark ages.  It was Pius XII who began to open the doors again to a dialogue between scholarship and the Church’s teaching office, but it was a very tentative opening and especially so in the final years of his papacy when Pius’ health issues gave rein to Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani, of the Holy Office (today’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith) to take over doctrinal supervision unsupervised himself.  It was a dreadful time when such theologians as John Courtney Murray, Jean  Daniélou, Marie-Dominque Chenu, and others were silenced.  Even the saintly mystical Jesuit paleontologist, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin was prohibited from publishing his scientific findings.  John XXIII, Vatican II, and Paul VI opened the windows to a renewed effort at serious dialogue between theology and the various sciences, but the negative reaction to the publication of Paul’s encyclical Humanae Vitae caused a reaction in which those branches of moral theology that dealt with sexual issues were frozen shut.  Theologians like Charles Curran, Margaret Foley, Anthony Kosnik, John McNeill, Jacques Gaillot, among others were censured by Rome and forced from teaching positions and, in some cases, even from their religious communities and priestly ministry. The frankness of this Synod—and the tone set by Pope Francis—indicates that the thaw is on and the Church is open to dialogue again with the world outside its stained-glass windows to come to a better understanding of human sexuality, human relationships, and human reproduction.  It is long overdue.  Yeah Francis.  You go Synod Members.  Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Pirola—keep on making love.  

Reason for Celibacy: Protect the Property

this bas relief on an eleventh century Tuscan
parish church is actually a fertility symbol

Ok, here is the connection between Church finances and celibacy. 

The King of France dies, his oldest son becomes king.  The Duke of Aquitaine dies, his oldest son comes to the King of France and says: “Dad just died, the duchy is empty.  Make me Duke.”  The King has no choice, unless he can prove treason or some other good reason, not to invest the Duke’s heir with the duchy.  The Earl of Hereford dies, his oldest son comes to the King of England and says: “Dad just died, the earldom is empty. Make me Earl.”  The King, unless he can prove disloyalty on the part of the claimant, has no choice but to make him Earl.  The knight who is the warden of Rochester Castle dies; his son comes to the Duke of Kent in whose duchy the castle stands, and says: “Dad died, make me Warden of the Castle.”  The Duke—unless he can prove that the young man is not reliable—has little or no choice of making the young knight Warden.  Michel is the steward of the Duke of Berry; he dies and his son is appointed in his place unless the Duke can make for a very good case on why someone else should have the job.   Robert is the steward of the Abbot of Cluny—as his father was before him and his son expects to be afterwards. 

     Dad is the toll collector on the Canterbury road bridge over the river Medway and he dies.  The eldest son comes to the Abbot of Malmesbury who own the bridge and says: “Dad died, make me toll collector.”   It is his right to take his father’s place and the Abbot has no choice unless he can prove that the boy is incompetent.  The Reeve of Hampton dies; the Rector of the Church has to appoint his son to the job unless he can find good reason to the contrary. 

     Dad is a goldsmith and has a shop in Bourges.  He dies and his son who did his apprenticeship under his father’s best friend goes to the owner and gets the lease of the shop for his lifetime.   Dad is a silk merchant in Lucca and his son takes the business when he dies.  Dad is a butcher in Regensburg and his son is a butcher and takes the family business when Dad passes on.

     This is simply how things worked in the Middle Ages.

     So now we come to the Church.  We are talking mid-tenth century and Dad is the Rector of Fleury.  He dies.  Son number one goes to the Abbot of Duell who holds the Advowson and says—“Dad died last week, the church is empty, make me Rector.”  Of course—what is the problem. This is how the world works. The son had become a priest because Dad was a priest and Grandpa had been a priest and the Rector of Fleury in his day.  In a world of hereditary posts, everyone expects the church to pass—as does the duchy, the toll-bridge, the castle, the stewardship, the butcher-shop—from Father to Son.  My name is Smith because we are the smiths in the village.  My name is Taylor because we are the tailors.  My name is Chandler because we have made the candles and soap since God-alone-knows-when.  My name is Stuart because we have always been the stewards of the local Lord.  My name is Sexton because our family are the church sextons.  Got it?

      So what is the problem with junior taking over as village priest or city rector when his father dies?  Well don’t forget the parish church has land—sometimes lots of land.  Mrs. Jones left us this field.  Mr Brown left us that vineyard.   Mrs Green gave us that mill by the river.  All these rents come in to support the church and its rector.  And don’t forget the Glebe land that the priest farms—or rents to tenants to farm for him.   The Rector administers a lot of land.  And his daughter is getting married to the son of the sheriff and we need a dowry.  Well let’s give her that field.  And his younger son is becoming a monk at Rochester Cathedral priory—let’s give him that mill by the river as his monastic dowry.  And that vineyard—is that ours or the church’s, I can’t remember, but let’s give it to the nuns of Wapage Abbey to pray for Grandma’s soul.   Rectors are treating church property as their own personal and familial possessions.  Land belonging to the church (and thus the Church) is passing from the church (Church) into families.  The Church is losing its wealth.  How can we stop this?  How can we make sure that church property doesn’t go to the heirs of the priest?  Well, for one thing, we can make sure he doesn’t have any heirs.  But he has four children!  We can’t change that.  No, but we can take away their right to inherit by making them illegitimate.  And that solves a second problem as well.   Not only have bastards no rights of inheritance, but number one son (or number two, three, four or one-hundred-and-seventeen son) cannot claim the rectorship because bastards are ineligible for ordination.  He can neither be hereditary priest nor can he inherit the land.  All we need to do is declare that the marriage of the clergy is null and void and we have two problems solved at once.  Ain’t celibacy great?  

      Now this doesn’t mean that the priest can’t have a wife and children—it only means that the Church does not recognize the marriage and the legitimacy of the children and it is Church courts that settle inheritance issues.  Many priests, in the early and central Middle Ages most priests, were in a stable monogamous relationship.  They thought of  their partner as their wives; the women saw themselves as wives; and even the parishioners thought of the woman as the priest’s wife.   Celibacy may have been the law, but it was honored more in the breach than the observance.  The bishops didn’t mind; the pope’s didn’t mind.  Bishops and sometimes even popes often were—or had been—in such relationships and had children whom they raised as their own without apology.  As long as the property was safe from alienation, the Church was happy.  That would eventually change but celibacy would only be enforced with some degree of strictness throughout the Western Church after the Council of Trent.

      Well, why do we have celibacy today?  Isn’t that a good question.  Perhaps we can look at it in our next posting and from there on to our look at the next Reform—the Gregorian Reform.