Many years ago, the late Archbishop Peter L. Gerety of Newark made a move which stirred some controversy within his own area.
Incensed over columns by Father Andrew Greeley which scored priestly loyalty and priesthood generally, the archbishop summarily discontinued Greeley’s weekly column from the Advocate, his own archdiocesan newspaper.
The action angered some of the Advocate’s readers. In the day’s libertine society, some found it difficult to differentiate between responsible journalism and censorship, and concluded that any strong action has to be the latter category.
Yet the archbishop felt compelled to defend priesthood in light of Greeley’s harsh words and generalizations. He wrote, “I simply cannot permit that the ranting of Father Greeley about my brother priests be given a forum in the pages of the Advocate … there are some basic rules for civilized discourse. Father Greeley has gone too far.”
One priest-friend of mine remarked about the irony of Greeley’s concerns. “Imagine,” he said, “that Greeley would lament about a lack of loyalty within priestly fraternity after (his novel) Cardinal Sins.”
I empathized with Archbishop Gerety. There is just too much about priesthood and the beauty of its mystery to allow some people to callously distort the power of this reality by focusing on the weaknesses of the “wounded healers.”
I am frustrated when I read in the secular press glib generalizations and inferences by some of our own who have nothing better to do with their time than to emphasize the negative or remind us of a portion of the church’s history which at this point is both stale and too familiar.
I am angered when I see twisted pronouncements of near guilt and sarcasm, judgments about brother priests which are conveniently cloaked behind words like “alleged accusations.”
And I wonder about the fixation of some priests who accentuate and stereotype the abuses of sexuality and do harm to both priesthood and church by playing into the hands of those who want to believe this is the normal situation.
Such writing does nothing but give scandal.
I fail to understand this need for betrayal. The priests I know love priesthood. Long before their ordinations, they learned about and sympathetically accepted the faltering footsteps of those who lived in less glorious times. And in their own “mea culpas” they recognized the need for forgiveness and the sheer folly of taking on and maintaining the responsibility of ministerial priesthood.
Yet the image of an impulsive and stumbling Peter and the vicissitudes of a doubting Thomas somehow prompted us on. We dared to reach out to people and accept a vocation the significance of which is incredibly grace-filled and divinely inspired.
The late Cardinal Joseph Bernardin of Chicago, who himself became unfortunately embroiled in some of Father Greeley’s fantasies, wrote beautifully of this mysterious intermingling of the human and the divine.
“I wish first to tell you of God’s great goodness to me,” he relates. “I have experienced doubts, temptations, anxieties, and difficulties of every kind. I am sure you have also.
“In reflecting on my shortcomings and sinfulness, I have been discouraged and even depressed. I have often dealt with people who did not understand me or questioned my motives or even rejected my ministry. This has caused me to feel disillusioned, rejected, even angry. It is part of the human condition to experience these feelings. Not even Jesus was spared all of them.
“Yet through it all God has been at my side. His goodness to me has been overwhelming. When I did not know which way to turn, he gave me direction. When I did not measure up to his expectations, he forgave me — over and over again. He has given me the strength and motivation needed to continue the struggle. He has always been present to wipe away the tears of discouragement and loneliness. So often all I could produce were the proverbial crooked lines, yet somehow he always managed to write straight with them.”
St. Teresa of Avila holds that one cannot grow closer to God without constantly growing in self-knowledge. We priests realize that such self-knowledge humbly begins with an awareness of weakness. But, in that knowledge, we turn the ridiculous into the sublime and remain sources of sacramental contact with Christ.
So, it would be an error of omission to ignore a more complete vision of ministry. There are basic rules for civilized discourse, and some have gone too far with their negativism. More than anything else, people look to us who minister to them for our presence as loving, caring, and forgiving people.
We know we are not better than other people, and we openly acknowledge that many of those we serve are actually closer to the Lord than we are. Yet, as Cardinal Bernardin again beautifully expressed it, these same people “… want our help in their efforts to handle pain and frustration.
“They look to us for understanding; they seek a sensitive and consoling response to their hurt feelings; they need the spiritual comfort we bring through our ministry of word and sacrament.
“They want someone who will pray with them, whose presence will remind them that no matter what their difficulties might be, God really loves them and cares for them.
“They want assurance that God will never abandon them.
“This is the preferred style of spiritual leadership in our day.”
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