What follows is neither fully known nor unknown. It is, as is so often the case, an experiment, an attempt to clarify certain problems of the mind in our contemporary culture. Nothing here needs to be taken too seriously, or rather, too literally. Any question may be raised. Nothing is out of bounds in this thought experiment.
What is one to do, living or dying in a society such as ours? Is it responsible merely to live one’s daily life as if…? As if what? As if it just continues, as if one’s life is whole or wholesome, as if this society is fundamentally good or healthy or life-affirming. What is one to do, living in the midst of so much spiritual, mental, emotional, and even physical disorder? What does one do living blindly among the blind? Well, open one’s eyes, perhaps.
How can one responsibly turn to our political leaders, looking for guidance, or justice, or an example of goodness? How can one responsibly turn to our religious leaders, expecting truthfulness and uprightness? Is there any individual, any group, in this society, that is not tainted with our diseases of spirit and mind? Love your beloved spouse or friend despite his or her flaws, but do not pretend that he or she is what that person is not. We are all not only wounded, but wounding, and corruption is found everywhere one turns—even in one’s heart.
Perhaps one expected to find some peace, some goodness in one’s faith tradition, in church or synagogue or temple, or in one’s sangha. And what shows up? So much illusion and delusion, deceitfulness, lying, hatred, desires for gain, for power. No one can escape the self in its illusions, greed, lust, foolishness. One must strive to rise above one’s lower self, one’s own impurities and flaws. And the flaws of others.
What seems reasonable and fitting in our society is to suspend one’s attachment from all institutions: state, church, police, schools, laws, various groupings. Those often thought noble or capable of leading others have shown themselves to be blind guides indeed, or worse: deceivers seeking to “rip off” anyone and everyone. Some of the worst spectacles of deceit show up in the church hierarchy. But plenty show up in our so-called “Department of Justice,” which in many cases is as much a department of injustice as one would find in a totalitarian society.
Has our country become a totalitarian society? If not, we have been moving in that direction for decades, and the pace seems to be accelerating. We are building a prison for human beings, for minds, from which escape becomes increasingly difficult and unlikely.
To repeat for clarity: we are building ourselves a prison-culture of mindlessness, of diseases of the spirit, of destruction. When will it occur to the so-called learned elites who rule us by their vicious opinions of how evil we have become, even to the point of murdering infants in the womb, and proclaiming ourselves “enlightened” for doing so? When will it occur to our citizens that proclaiming ourselves free and equal, we have enslaved ourselves to the worst drives and passions in our souls? Future generations may well see how like we were to the Soviet Union, to Nazi Germany, to Maoist China, even while puffing ourselves up on being “a free society,” “a democracy,” “a land of liberty and equality.” How we deceive ourselves, we Americans. We are one of the most destructive societies in history. How many human beings have we allowed to be killed in the name of someone’s “right to choose”? Right to choose what? To choose to have a human being destroyed in the most brutal ways. And how proud we are of ourselves for this so-called “life-style.” America has made itself a society of mass-murder in which the most powerless are destroyed by those with power. And all dressed up in “rights,” in “our needs,” in our “freedom and equality.” If America is not a prison society of the mind, where the most base opinions and actions are held up as good and right, what could a human prison possibly look like? If America has not become a culture of death, what would one look like?
A wicked ruler in our country is mass opinion: the slogans, the biases, the diseases, the infected breath of so many. At every turn one encounters the triumph of the worst in us, and among us—and at the same time, pretending that we are “basically good.” How deceived and deceiving we are in this prison-society.
What is one to do? First, suspend all loyalty, all attachment, to our “way of life,” to our culture, to our governments, to our institutions of “higher learning,” to our churches. To all that this society holds dear or of value, one must hold oneself back. Second, one must not seek to destroy anything, not even the corrupt leadership in politics or in churches or in “science,” but one must make a spiritual-mental break. Hatred breaks from nothing, but further incarcerates oneself. Love for what is evil is neither good nor truly possible. Hence, suspend, let go, stand back. Third, one must be ruthlessly honest with oneself, and seek to root out all evil from one’s mind and soul and character. One must not make excuses. If you have killed your parent by hatred or your unborn by “convenience,” at least admit the evil you have done, and cease coddling yourself, your criminal self, your self-deceptive self.
One could wish that sweet and gentle words were also truthful: just “love your enemy,” “love your neighbor as yourself,” with the misinterpreted implication that one should “love oneself” as one is, calling evil good. The problem is that we have so much self-love, and so much self-delusion. The self we love is often ourselves at our worst—our will to power, to pleasure, to gain. To love what we have become as a people in history is not a virtue, but foolishness and wickedness. We have become a shameful, deluded people. “The ugly American” has grown into America the ugly—into an empire of death. If one doubts the truthfulness of the term, “empire of death,” ask yourself: How many human beings have been murdered behind the walls of abortion mills? And virtually no awareness of what we are doing. How many human minds are killed by mass propaganda—from schools, mass media, popular music, entertainment?
If someone fifty years from now were to ask, “Why were you so silent?,” consider this: so many voices are heard, so much screaming, so many sounds that drown out thinking, that reason’s voice cannot be heard, is not heard, and so, is not heeded. America is hell-bent on doing what it wants. And so we keep murdering the unborn, perverting the minds of our children, deceiving each other under cover of suits and vestments. Where in America can reason speak and be heard? Perhaps only in the solitude of a hidden mountain valley, or on the open plains, by the sea—but then, even there, our culture of death penetrates through mass media, and mass opinions, and noises coming from every direction. We have made ourselves a people in history that hates quiet, hates solitude, hates aloneness. We bundle ourselves together in echo chambers, and drown out the whispers of silence and of emptiness.
Our society is becoming a living nightmare. How many realize this? Some sense it, but have no idea what to do. Our ideologies deceive us into thinking that every decadent act, every weird desire, is somehow a step towards “human progress.” Men try to make themselves women, and women try to become men. Children think that they are the centers of the universe, and parents think that their children are little gods. Good grief, so much stupidity and foolishness. Can we become worse as a people?
It seems possible, perhaps likely, that in the perspective of another century or two, some thoughtful human beings will look back on what had been “the United States of America,” and wonder how so many human beings could have been so self-deceived, so wicked, so degenerate, so destructive of themselves and of others.
America is killing itself. And we share in the act of murder.
24 Jan 2019
What follows is a tentative sketch, based on years of experience working with Catholic clergy in six dioceses spread out from Washington, DC to Japan (Archdiocese for Military Services). It reflects personal experiences working among priests assigned to parishes, and from dealings with bishops and deacons as well. I am not here reflecting on religious life in the Church, whether of brothers or of sisters, for whom I have deep respect and affection; vowed religious life is not my present focus. My primary concern is with the Christian faithful, and my conviction that they have generally not been well served in parishes, at least in recent decades. We have largely neglected to assist the faithful well in their spiritual and intellectual development.
Prefatory Note: When I use the word “spiritual,” as in this brief essay, I mean it in the sense of the German geistlich, which includes what in English is often broken into “spiritual” and “intellectual.” These two components of mental development are strongly connected, as the German word suggests. Especially in America, where there has often been what Fr. Greeley calls “anti-intellectualism,” “spiritual” can all too often drift into what is merely personal or even emotional, and hence become superficial and transient. What has prevailed in Catholic parishes has often been a disregard for the intellectual-spiritual development of the faithful, matters much deeper and distinct from the merely personal or emotional. In how many Catholic parishes is the life of the mind even taken into account? Many American pastors would probably say, “the life of the mind is not our concern.” What we have often offered our people is intellectually dull and mentally unchallenging, pretending that homilies aimed at an elementary school level are sufficient for adults. Even much of the music is jejune with banal texts. The public prayers are often stilted and muttered in cultic terminology alien to the minds of our people. In short, bishops, priests, and deacons are not tending our flocks well. Those with more inquiring minds or restless spirits drift away; those who accept mediocrity and intellectual-spiritual vapidity remain, often bored in their pews.
I. Some good qualities of Catholic priests in America
A. After several years of serving as a Navy Chaplain with Marines on Okinawa and on Mount Fuji, and at Naval Medical Center, San Diego, with permission from my Benedictine abbot, I returned to western Montana to serve as a parish priest. My elderly parents were living in our hometown of Missoula, and I wanted to be able to assist them if necessary, as they had so generously provided for me in my tender years. While serving in the Helena diocese, I experienced an interesting duality: Overall, the priests were friendly to one whom they considered “an outsider,” as I had not been born in Montana (my family moved here before I started high school). Of all the clergy with whom I have worked as a brother priest, I found those of the Diocese of Helena to be the friendliest. They smiled warmly and spoke to me at our various priestly gatherings. The only problem was that within a few months of working among them, as I subsequently learned, a number of them pressured the bishop to have me removed from the diocese. I should have seen the removal coming, for the pastor under whom I served had complained to me, “You believe in the divinity of Christ. I do not; I believe in his humanity. And I do not accept the authority of Rome.” We were at odds, and resolution came in the form of my removal from service in that outwardly friendly diocese.
After dismissing me from my assignment in Kalispell (where I lasted six months), I met with the bishop in private. He told me to live in Missoula with my parents, and that I could serve as a substitute in various parishes until he reassigned me. He also forbad me to visit Kalispell, where I had some dear friends. Unbeknownst to me, within a few weeks of our meeting, the bishop wrote a letter to my abbot, asking that I be called back to the monastery. When my abbot informed me that the bishop had terminated my service from his diocese, I was truly shocked; I felt betrayed, as the bishop had promised to reassign me. I got up the courage and returned to speak with the bishop—a man with a dominating personality who could be quite intimidating, and who had previously yelled at me several times. Despite my fears, the bishop was not unkind to me on this occasion when we spoke in his office. He said that he was convinced that my vocation could have worked in western Montana, but that the diocesan administrator had mistakenly “tried to put a square peg in a round hole” in giving me the assignment in Kalispell, where the pastor and I had different “theologies.” He further explained that “the damned incestuous Butte gang” of priests had pressured him to remove me from the diocese, asserting that I was “too traditional.” The bishop consented to the priests’ request to dismiss me.
As I came to realize over time, this bishop’s decision was essentially political: to keep a degree of peace with an outspoken portion of his presbyterate, he broke his promise to me, an “outsider.” And ideological thinking among the clergy took precedence over the truth of the gospel of Christ. This was my first intimate experience with diocesan clergy, and their political games disturbed me. In time I would come to understand that power politics plays a heavy role among diocesan clergy, especially among those who are not truly “men of the Spirit.” The Catholic hierarchy is fundamentally a social structure in which men seek to gain and to hold personal power, and to advance the positions of those whom they find useful to themselves, or with whom they are in ideological agreement. Truth, charity, and human decency are all-too-often sacrificed for power, prestige, and worldly gain.
I chose to remain in western Montana, which I consider my home, in order to be near my parents in case of need. An older priest assigned to parishes in the Bitterroot Valley, and living in Stevensville, allowed me to live in his rectory. He helped me to deal with clerical rejection, something he had experienced as well, for he did not share the “progressive agenda” of a sizable number of his brother priests in the Helena diocese. This good and humble man gave me genuine pastoral care, showing that he well deserved the sacred title, “Father.” Subsequently the bishop came down hard on this pastor, who was temperamentally a gentle soul. While celebrating Mass, he suffered a major heart attack. For this priest’s goodness and kindness to me, I will be ever grateful. In time I also became grateful for the experience of rejection by the bishop and the self-proclaimed “progressive” priests. My education in the Church had informed me that bishops act in the person of Christ; what I came to realize was that such a claim is at best misleading, and actually fallacious and self-serving. For in reality—not in abstract theological terms—this particular bishop had lied to me, not keeping his word to reassign me to another parish in his diocese. Lying and power games are not of Christ. Realizing that the bishop had not acted “in the person of Christ,” but out of darker and self-serving motives, initially caused me some mental pain. I was forced to “wake up and smell the coffee.” I had to re-evaluate the theological claim that the bishop, or the priest, is “alter Christus,” another Christ. All too often, clergy act in their own narrow self-interest, even while presenting themselves outwardly as “servants of Christ.” And so I chose to live in the truth rather than in the illusion of self-serving propaganda about clergy as “faithful servants of Christ.” Too many serve themselves and neglect the intellectual and spiritual well-being of those in their spiritual charge.
At the same time, I learned a lesson from the “liberal” or “progressive” priests in western Montana: “liberals” in the church are often illiberal, intolerant, and hostile when they encounter theological and political opinions contrary to their own. (The same is true of “progressive” lay persons who are given power-positions by clergy who favor them.) A more traditionalist priest, on the other hand, had accepted as a brother and dressed the wounds of someone who did not share his cherished and more fixed theological views. For in truth I have never been “a traditionalist,” yearning for “the good old days” before the Second Vatican Council. On the other hand, I surely did not share the “progressive” passion for “changing the world” as a substitute for grounding parishioners in Christ. Hence, another lesson learned: how one lives, what one does, are far more important than the ideological or theological views he or she espouses. As Jesus asked about the man who had been beaten up, robbed, and ignored by priests walking on the way to Jerusalem, “Now, which one showed mercy to the man who fell among thieves?” The kindly and charitable priest in Stevensville, Montana, had shown me genuine mercy, whereas the “progressive” clergy had me removed because I did not align with their “values” (a meaningless term often thrown around in our age). Only a priest who practices charity and lives in truth deserves the title, “Father”; the others are pretenders. Priests who do not truly serve Christ in the faithful are betraying Christ; often they are corrupt and corrupting, and should be assiduously avoided.
B. In addition to there being some genuinely compassionate and spiritually nourishing clergy, there are truly talented men serving among the diocesan priesthood. Some are good musicians, some are artists, some write, some are good mechanics, perhaps a small percentage can preach well. There are American priests and bishops who are reasonably intelligent, and have cultivated the life of the mind along life’s journey; but all too many come across as having been mediocre students at best, uninterested in studying philosophy or theology as required in their years of formation. Overall I would agree with Fr. Greeley’s assessment in The Priestly Sins that many priests are not only uninterested in thinking and doing intellectual work, but are actually anti-intellectual. On the other hand, I would maintain that a priest can still nourish others spiritually without being “an intellectual,” if he is truly “a man of God.” So my main point differs from Fr. Greeley’s: from what I have observed, all too many parish priests are not so much “anti-intellectual” only but anti-spiritual; too many are just plain “world” men. Often I’ve heard priests voice disdain for people such as evangelicals or Pentecostals with more simple beliefs, or even contempt for Catholics who find nourishment from Mother Angelica or similar traditional forms of piety. Some people may need these forms of spiritual nourishment, at least at times in their lives. And then there are the traditionalistic clergy, who in reality are religious fundamentalists wedded to their favorite externals, such as rules, rituals, and beliefs, rather than cultivating openness of mind and spirit. These forms of spiritual dwarfing show up in the clergy’s lack of respect for, or wanton ignorance of, the spiritual traditions rooted in Greek philosophy, in Hinduism, in the Buddha, in Lao-Tzu. I suspect few American diocesan priests have ever even read the Dhammapada or the poems of Lao-Tzu; the secular “progressives” would probably have little interest in such spiritual texts, and the immature traditionalists would think them “pagan” and “harmful to one’s Catholic faith.” In reality, study of various spiritual traditions would not be harmful to one’s faith, but to one’s fixed ideological beliefs, whether progressive or traditionalistic. Catholic clergy need a far deeper and richer spiritual and intellectual grounding.
Pointedly, a sizable proportion of Catholic clergy shows little appreciation for the rich mystical traditions within the history of Catholic faith and practice. How many of the clergy even realize that the Apostle Paul and the Evangelist John, for examples, were not just “believers” or “social activists,” but mystics, deserving to be read as such, not as proponents of “the true faith,” Catholic doctrines, or social action. I doubt that many of our American clergy could reasonably explain the relationship between faith and mystical experience. Although some “liberal” priests may know the value of some kinds of questioning, many priests do not seem to realize that faith that does not ask good spiritual questions is mere religious belief, and not genuine trust in God. “Faith without works is dead”; faith without questioning is also dead. Many clergy do not seem to grasp that static religious beliefs are actually a dead weight to the life of the spirit and mind. I heard one high ranking diocesan priest with whom I served read a homily in which he mocked some “far-off `cloud of unknowing,’” and admitted wanting to “build the Kingdom of God on earth.” His foolish opinion shared with those sitting idly in the pews surprised me, because I had assumed that he would know better. His missing the mark regarding the life of the spirit is by no means uncommon among Catholic clergy: they often display a lack of genuine spiritual experience or the understanding that comes from experiences in Christ. It seems that many priests are spiritually and intellectually mediocre at best. They hide behind rules, rituals, and sacraments, or behind programs for social action, and often snugly behind their clerical collars and smiles. The expansion of the mind beyond the confines of churchianity and hierarchy does not seem to be of high priority for most diocesan clergy. The faithful in Christ deserve much better.
Unfortunately, most American Catholics have been so poorly nourished by their priests over the past decades that they no longer understand or consciously desire what they are missing. Many lay persons seem to want to be amused and entertained rather than confronted with the truth of Christ; they want priests or deacons who flatter them, amuse them, entertain them. Yet, one also finds among church-attending Catholics an increasing sense of dissatisfaction with what is being offered them in the church. They are beginning to realize that they are being fed pablum, not solid food. The increasing discontent with spiritually impoverished Christianity is a sign of real growth. The Spirit is stirring. And surely those with the Spirit stirring in their hearts and minds are becoming painfully aware of just how spiritually, intellectually, and even ethically impoverished the hierarchical Church has become. Their spiritual unrest and discontent could possibly help lead to improvements if they find prudent ways to act on such discontent, and seek ways that nourish their minds and spirits. Indeed, some of these spiritually alive lay persons may even begin to wonder: Which is more like genuine communion and Eucharist: absorbing spiritual insight from a man or woman dedicated to the truth of God, or attending a liturgy that is far more of an entertaining show by Father Feel-good than an immersion into Christ?
II. A brief list of serious flaws common in American clergy
1. First and foremost among flaws in bishops, priests, and deacons today, I would point to a lack of grounding in philosophy, mystical theology, Scripture, Eastern spiritualities, ethics, and contemplative practices. Although perhaps a relative few priests do keep immersing themselves in such a grounding, I dare say that most make a weak attempt at best. As examples, I have known few Catholic priests who can read the New Testament in the original (unlike, say, many Lutheran pastors); indeed, Catholic clergy may sneer at a brother priest who reads the Greek or Hebrew to understand the sacred texts with more personal insight. Again, what Fr. Greeley called “anti-intellectualism” among the clergy, or what I would call a disdain for studying the things of God, shows up. Further, I doubt that most priests have ever studied the dialogues of Plato, or the Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle, despite the spiritual wealth in such texts, or the enormous influence the classic Greek philosophers have had on Catholic theology and practice over the centuries. Priests may vaguely know doctrinalized fragments of theology from St. Thomas Aquinas, but probably few have ever read his treatise on God in the Summa Theologiae. Why? Either because they are not interested, or because they are not willing to make the effort to study difficult material.
This ignorance and intellectual laziness shows up in their preaching and teaching. Indeed, no few priests read or deliver canned homilies at Mass. Could they truly proclaim Christ faithfully from the heart, here and now, if called upon to do so? If the clergy can let Christ speak through them, then why do many of them serve up canned homilies downloaded off the internet? Are they hiding their lack of spiritual life from the faithful? Do they think that parishioners are so stupid or ignorant as not to detect the difference between genuine preaching in Christ and just telling cute and entertaining stories? Do these spiritually lazy members of the clergy know that they are insulting and malnourishing the souls in their care? (Because of the importance of teaching and preaching Christ in parishes, I have likened clergy who pinch homilies to married men who would send a substitute to perform “the conjugal act.”) For in reality, proclaiming Christ faithfully, in word and in deed, is the foremost spiritual act of a bishop, priest, or deacon; substitutes for Christ are not only opportunities lost, but lead to withering of the spirit in the faithful. In short, the American priesthood is not well grounded in the fundamentals of philosophy, theology, and contemplative practice. Nor do they care to be. Most priests I have observed would prefer to watch a contemporary movie than sit still and study a spiritual classic, let alone be content to be “alone with the Alone.”
2. As noted, Fr. Greeley is right to point out the anti-intellectualism rampant among American clergy. And this applies not only to deacons and priests, but sometimes to bishops. Hans Urs von Balthasar noted that few bishops in the United States are solidly grounded in theology. Those with inquiring minds in the church are suspect of being anti-Catholic, or at least a threat to the hierarchy’s monopoly of power in the church. Interviewed by one bishop to serve in his diocese, he asked me two questions: “Do you believe in the Trinity?” and “Do you believe in transubstantiation?” I wanted to say to the bishop, “Grow up,” but I refrained. Rather than laugh at the naiveté and doctrinal straight-jacket of his questions, I patiently tried to move him away from the rigid dogmatism dripping from his questions. My attempt fell on deaf ears, apparently. I do not know that he even understood what I said to him regarding “the Trinity,” nor did he ask discerning questions. Rather than let me serve as a priest in his diocese, he told some of his clergy that I was “not orthodox.” And he never extended the honest courtesy of telling me that he had in fact denied my request to work in his diocese. Politically savvy, he avoided putting his decision in writing; the man had been a lawyer before becoming a priest. As we see in the case of this bishop, so-called “orthodoxy” functions as a present-day refuge for those who do not want to think, to question, to search for truth; the “orthodox” can fall back on fixed answers, as many preachers fall back on canned homilies. That Jesus blessed inquiring minds probably escapes such bishops. Indeed, I wonder if most Catholic clergy marvel at the master of questioning portrayed in the Jesus of the canonical Gospels. Well does Christ ask us, “Who do you say that I am?” Do priests actually ponder this question, or pretend to have found “the answer”? Pope Benedict truly impressed me when he dared to ask, “Has the Church misinterpreted Jesus?” Ah! A good question! And a timely question, to which I add: Has the hierarchy misinterpreted and betrayed Christ? In any case, one finds that all too often, Catholic clergy turned off their own inquiries years ago in order to “think with the Church,” or in order to get ordained. They learned not to question, not to “think outside the box,” and merely to accept unthinkingly what they were taught. In reality, having an inquiring mind is not the way to climb the hierarchical ladder to worldly success. Questioning minds are indeed a stumbling block to churchly power. For those in positions of power like “yes-men,” not thinkers, lest their own questionable lives be examined.
3. Many Catholic priests neglect the spiritual formation of the faithful. They are far more interested in “social justice” in the sense of “changing the world” (a Marxist conception) than in embodying the pastoral attitude of the Apostle Paul: “My little children, with whom I am in labor, until Christ be formed in you” (Galatians 4). Sharing in the formation of Christ in the souls of the faithful as the parish priest’s primary goal seems utterly to have escaped many American clergy. What do they offer instead? Actually, that is a good question. What is offered up in parishes? Frankly, not much of nutritious value, based on what I have seen and heard. Too many priests squander time in handling administrative duties (tasks which should be left to lay persons), or in hiding behind stale and stultifying rituals. As a result, as noted above, many of the faithful are not receiving the spiritual and intellectual nourishment they deserve and need. Often, lay persons do not understand that and why their priests are all-too-often spiritual wastelands. In truth, these men “cannot give what they do not have.” In some cases, they put much energy into administering property well, and perhaps should have been businessmen, not pastors—not those entrusted with the care of souls. Or they may be entertaining, charming, and at best, genuinely kind and charitable, and could have been good social workers. Most pastors seem to forget—or not to have realized—that their task should be to “put themselves out of business,” to let the Holy Spirit do the work in the souls of the faithful. For we all should be matured to find suitable ways to nourish ourselves spiritually, whether the local priest is a genuine man of God, or an empty secular soul, or a walking enrobed relic of an imagined past.
4. Too many Catholic priests are not only “in the world, but of the world.” They have made their peace with our secular, “progressive” culture. Some of them mock genuine spiritual interests, or ascetical practices. The girth of many in the Catholic clergy tells a story, does it not? I recall being invited to join priests for supper in an expensive restaurant on the first Friday in Lent. Although of course the clergy had told their parishioners “you may not eat meat on Fridays in Lent,” they ordered lobster and crab legs—and at the parishioners’ expense. Surprised by such self-indulgence, I questioned them about keeping the spirit of Lent with a more frugal meal. Several of the priests told me, “Lobster is not meat.” I am reminded of the words, “What blind guides, who strain at gnats and swallow camels.” (A couple of these priests looked as though they had swallowed a camel.) Needless to say, I never joined them again for such a luxurious meal at parishioners’ expense. I learned a lesson: it is far more in the spirit of Lent—and contrary to American self-indulgence—to eat a humble hamburger than to dine sumptuously on lobster, crab, shrimp, steak…. Many priests and bishops take expensive eating and drinking as a right, if not even a clerical duty.
Priestly worldliness shows up not only in eating expensive meals, but in their consumption of alcohol—often enough, expensive wines or liquor. I’ve been with no few priests who can put away a considerable amount of spirits before eating, and then drink plenty of wine to wash down their meal; and then they walk away from the table without too much stumbling! For clearly such men are accustomed to consuming large quantities of alcohol. Some of these are alcoholics, who have been protected from exposure by brother priests for their self-destructive life-styles; others are just self-indulgent, and suffer consequences to their deteriorating health.
Regarding sexual matters, perhaps the less said, the better. In St. Benedict’s words, “It is better not even to mention what they do.” So our comments are brief. It is not only that some priests and bishops have abused children sexually, but that no few of them have shared in the cover-up of this problem over many years. This pattern has been coming to light, and is causing an enormous loss of respect for the Catholic hierarchy. What is probably less well known is how many tolerate a brother priest having a sexual partner, and keep silent about it. I shared a rectory with a priest who admitted to me having a girl friend for years, whom, he proudly told me, attended parties as his consort. He also justified having a woman in our parish as a sexual partner because “she isn’t pretty anyway.” The depravity here is evident. Then there are the actively “gay” priests. One of them said to me, “God does not care what a man does with his penis.” To that response I held up a fist to make my point, and asked him, “Does God care what a man does with his fist?” He stalked away. In these cases, the same problem of clerical secrecy and cover-up manifests itself: one priest covers for another. There is a real reluctance to see a brother priest brought to justice; on the contrary, a conspiracy of silence reigns among the clergy. There are no few members of the Catholic clergy who show little interest in seeking to live celibate and chaste lives. In the words of one actively “gay” priest, “I took a vow of celibacy, which means I cannot marry; I did not take a vow of chastity.” Self-deception and deception of others go hand in hand.
5. These remarks lead to the fundamental statement: In addition to being a spiritual wasteland, an all-too-large proportion of the Catholic clergy live as depraved and corrupt human beings. In addition to the examples of depravity just noted, suffice it to say that clerical abuse of parishioners takes various forms. The abuse of children is by no means the only kind of clerical abuse all-too-rampant in the Church. For in addition to profound spiritual neglect and sexual abuse, there are priests who apparently think nothing from stealing sizable sums of money from parish coffers. In one parish in which I served, members of the finance council and I turned into the bishop the case of a priest who had stolen, as we estimated, at least $1.5 million from parish funds. In two different conversations with the bishop, he admitted to me, “the priests feel entitled” to steal monies. Our finance council was promised that this thieving priest would never function publicly again; a few months later, he was celebrating Masses and functioning as if nothing had happened. In the eye of many parishioners, the bishop had exonerated the thief of all wrong doing. Again we see the familiar pattern: abuse or evil committed by a member of the clergy, and an attempt by other clergy members to hide the evil, to cover it up from the awareness of the faithful. Why the cover-up? As one elderly priest said to me, “In France, follow the woman; in the Church, follow the money.” There is clearly a fear that parishioners would not be so generous with donations if they knew the truth of the evils being committed by members of the clergy. Money greases the skids.
III. Concluding thoughts and questions: Is the priesthood necessary?
What lesson is to be learned here? The Catholic hierarchy has for many years tolerated degenerate and criminal behavior committed by its own members. If a lay person stole vast sums of money from the parish or from a store or bank, s/he would be turned offer to civil authorities, and after due process, probably be sent to prison. A priest is excused for crimes, which indeed are covered up so effectively than many parishioners deny the priest ever molested, or stole money, and that those who reported the crime—child abuse or theft of parish funds—are accused of concocting the story to make the priest look bad or “to hurt the Church.” (Fr. Greeley does a good job illustrating this yarn.) In reality, the molesting or thieving priest is a bad human being, should be recognized as such, and dealt with accordingly. The hierarchy’s cover-ups protect deeply corrupt and corrupting human beings, who happen to wear black clothes and clerical collars. They consider themselves to be “ordained by God” in the sense of being a favored few. Sometimes parishioners may know how flawed their priests are, and what kinds of evil they are committing, but they willingly deceive themselves, as they are deceived by the clergy. “I do not care about the character of the priest; as soon as the man stretches his hands out over the gifts on the altar, they are changed into the body and blood of Christ.” That bad men do bad things badly does not appear to dawn on such “true believers.” In many cases of clerical abuse, spiritual neglect, and grand theft, lay people are complicit through silence, and through pretending that the evil deeds were never committed. Simply stated, lay people often share in the conspiracy of silence in the face of evil. Hence, lay persons have helped to perpetuate the degree of corruption evident in the clergy today.
There may be no real solution to these problems which seem endemic in the Catholic hierarchy, which is a virtually closed, secretive society unto itself. Still, one may ask: What can be done with the Catholic priesthood to save it from itself, and to enable priests to help build up Christ in the souls of the faithful? Limiting the pool of talent qualified for priestly ordination to unmarried men who do not wish to marry and to raise families is already a large handicap. One must wonder why married men in the western Church are excluded from serving as priests in nearly all cases. Simply asked, would not some married men be able to serve well the spiritual needs of the faithful? And so could women, especially many of the sisters who already serve lovingly in the community of the faithful. Even if Rome asserts that such questions ought not be raised, one must frankly admit: the Catholic priesthood is in so much trouble, that all questions must be raised, and fresh and truthful answers sought. Nothing about the priesthood ought to be taken as eternally fixed and beyond open and searching examination.
Hence, here is a fitting concluding question: Is the priesthood necessary? Might there be better ways to nourish human beings spiritually, than to impose on the faithful in Christ so much spiritual and intellectual mediocrity, not to mention permitting some wicked human beings to masquerade as “servants of Christ”? Or can the priesthood truly undergo a spiritual, intellectual, and ethical renewal? And are lay persons in Christ willing to do their part in a renewal in the Church?
Wm. Paul McKane, OSB
3 January 2019
Below I openly share a letter I have written to Fr. Andrew Greeley (1928-2013). Note: I do not cite page numbers from the novel under consideration, as my copy is an e-book, with pagination dependent on the size and style of font, and hence not standardized. A search could easily discover the quotations or references in their original context.
Dear Fr. Greeley,
We have not met, and to date I have read completely only one of your novels, skimmed parts of one or two others, and wish to read some of your published prayer journals in coming months, to better understand what good you have to offer. Having just finished reading a novel you had published in 2004 called The Priestly Sins, I wanted to share a few of my opinions, and some of my analysis, of your book.
At the outset, I want to be clear that I much enjoyed reading The Priestly Sins; I read it closely. As a slow reader, when I read, I prefer to absorb what I am reading, thinking about the characters actions, and intellectual content. I do not read just “for pleasure,” but to gain some knowledge, insight, and enjoyment from what I read, whether “fictional or non-fictional.” Your novel combines fiction and non-fiction, as perhaps any writing by a human being does, whether knowingly or not. What I most appreciated from The Priestly Sins are your handling of the problem of corruption and deceit prevalent in the Catholic hierarchy, and at least two memorable characters whom you concocted in your story: Fr. Herman Hugh Hoffman, and Kathleen Quinlan Shannon. You have a gift for story telling.
For the most part, I would say that your novel is a fictionalized-yet-largely-truthful portrayal of clergy sexual abuse, and the way such cases have been mishandled by bishops and priests for many years. I would recommend The Priestly Sins to lay persons and clergy alike. Many of the Catholic clergy are indeed part of the system of wrong-doing, evil, deceit, and cover-up, as you present in your story. You chose to attach an “End Note” which reads, in part: “Like all humans, all of us priests are sinners….” The “worst sinners are not the predators possessed by their own uncontrollable urges, but other priests who know about what the predators have done and remain silent or even defend them out of mistaken loyalty. And still worse are the bishops and bureaucrats who hide the truth, then reassign these desperately ill men to other parishes, where they can continue to destroy the lives of children and young people….So in order of responsibility for the [clerical abuse] crisis—the abusers themselves (who are developmentally arrested men and not totally responsible), priests who persist in clerical culture denial, bishops who reassign abusers, and the Curial dicasteries [departments] who appoint such bishops.”
First, I would challenge your analysis of “uncontrollable urges.” These urges are not fully “uncontrollable,” or abusers would not scheme to find hidden places and times for their crimes, such as taking young boys or girls fishing or camping out without other adults present. Abusers are clever and wicked schemers, often quite bright and fiendishly scheming, driven not primarily by sexual urges, but by their lust to dominate others. The drive for power over others is what shows up not only in those who abuse children emotionally, physically, or sexually, but in the clergy (and others) who have spent years denying, excusing, and covering up such evil deeds.
More fundamentally, you neglect to analyze the lust for power at work in many Catholic clergy, and not only in child abusers. Why do you think so many priests and bishops have hidden the truth about child abuse in the Church? What motivates their silence? Is it not in large measure a desire to maintain their own positions of authority and power over others? Is not the cover-up of child abuse one symptom of the attempt of clergy to dominate the lives, minds, and actions of the people whom they purportedly “serve”? (“Service” can often be a euphemism for fleecing.”) In addition to the lust to dominate on the part of clergy (whether child sexual abusers or not), what about the desire for position and wealth? Your novel offered no reflection on priests being driven for “worldly success,” especially as measured by power, prestige, and wealth. Yet you yourself are a priest, and so am I, and we have surely seen much worldly ambition dressed up in clerical garb. And what about you, Fr. Greeley? You wrote an enormous number of books. If most of them are like The Priestly Sins, I would say that you may well have aimed more at sensationalism and sales (hence, money in your pockets) then at truth. The book, though enjoyable, shows signs of being hastily written and insufficiently edited. Did you not in some sizable measure write for profit, as distinct from writing for truth or for benefit your readers? No doubt you did have some genuine concern for truth and for benefiting your readers, but your penchant for sensationalism and the sheer quantity of churned-out books makes one wonder about the power of the profit motive in you. I propose this matter not to condemn you or your novels, but to encourage some genuine self-examination. It is never too late to change, Father.
To put the matter positively: If you had edited your book more closely, and polished its content and style, you may have been more effective in achieving what seems to be a primary aim in your writing The Priestly Sins: to expose issues of clerical abuse, and especially of cover-up and deceit, all-too-rampant in the Catholic hierarchy. The thrust of your argument is highly important, and I think that it deserves a more careful presentation. If I had your ability for story telling, I would express my thoughts and questions in story form, as you did; but I’m not an Irish-American, not so clever of tongue, but perhaps closer to what you would call “a bumpkin.”
Had you given more thought to the matter, or at least have allowed your thoughts greater weight in the story, you may not have overlooked, as you do, a major kind of clerical abuse that is practiced and permitted: Many members of the clergy today, I believe, abuse their parishioners by wanton spiritual neglect. You are effective in pointing out the authoritarianism in traditionalistic clergy (who are often too young to remember the Church they pretend to adore), dressed up in capes and birettas and similar costumes, and seeking to dominate the minds of the people through highly dogmatic views, quick to site the “rules of the Church.” At the same time, you do not seem sensitive to the larger issue: Many Catholic priests show little concern for the spiritual well-being of their parishioners. You seem oblivious to the fact that an over-emphasis on “social justice” issues is a cover for a lack of spiritual depth, and that genuine “concern for souls” is and ought to be of highest concern to clergy. You were eager to portray your young hero priest, Fr. Herman, as a most pleasant priest willing to tell stories about old monks and dragons, to sing with parishioners, tell stories, and to play the accordion—and of course indulging in beer and plenty of wurst—but you never display Fr. Herman speaking on the importance of eternal life, of seeking an ongoing union with the living God. In short, you are good at ridiculing traditionalism among elements of the clergy, but show a lack of awareness of the even vaster problems of secularism, of all-too-worldly priests who may be good at playing golf, drinking booze, or telling jokes and entertaining stories, but who really show little interest in helping ground their people in the reality of the living God.
As I see it, Fr. Greeley, you are yourself too immersed in the Church to realize to what extent clergy abuse and cover up are both symptoms of the spiritual wasteland that is the reality of churches today—reality of our “modern life.” In short, clerical abuse is far more pervasive than you present in your novel, and its roots are deeper than sex, deeper than the lust for power (as mentioned above): beneath the sicknesses of child abuse, cover-ups, lies, and the scrambling of priests to climb the ladder of success in the Church, is the stark reality of the neglect of God. How many priests focus the attention of their parishioners on God, and on deepening their own love-life with God? On the contrary, we all know clergy who would far more readily mock “the cloud of unknowing” than seek to enter into it. Although you present believable examples of clerical stupidity and anti-intellectualism (a major theme of yours), you do not uncover the enormous problem of spiritual emptiness. This spiritual wasteland is the real poverty and disease of the Church.
Spiritual neglect and emptiness are not only rampant in clergy, but in lay persons as well. When you note those who are to blame for the problem of child abuse in the church (quoted above), you do not mention the lay people. Why not? Is it not the case that many lay persons have been far too comfortable in churchianity, too complacent on their butts, far too satisfied with empty sacramentalism and ritual, and not engaged in seeking their own life in and with God? Have not our people often allowed priests to get away with poor preaching, with spiritual mediocrity, and even with serious wrong-doing? Have not lay people in the Church often turned a blind eye to clerical abuse—whether of children, or of the neglect of the souls of their people? Have not lay people tolerated or refused to admit that no few of their priests regularly steal from them, believing that they are “entitled” to steal church monies? Lay people have kept deadly silent in the face of priestly sins, wanting like little children to think of priests as “other Christs.” What dangerous nonsense. In short, lay persons as well as clergy share in the blame for the wasteland that we see in the churches today.
Finally, Fr. Greeley, I offer a few tentative observations on style and content in your novel.
First, I repeat: I recommend your novel to clergy and lay persons alike, because I think that it is worth reading. In your two main characters of Fr. Herman Hoffman and Kathleen Quinlan Shannon, you created impressive, colorful, memorable characters. (How can I forget Kathleen’s red hair, green eyes, quick wit, lively spirit?) Although not a writer myself, and surely not a story-teller, I still offer some remarks on your style and some content.
You seem far more at home, and better, at imitating Irish-American speech than that of German-Americans. You throw in a good number of Irish expressions and linguistic turns of phrase. They are enjoyable, even if rather obvious and possibly a little hackneyed. On the other hand, your writing does not indicate a deep familiarity with German farm people. Although you do lace the pages with “ja, ja,” “nein,” and “ganz gut,” and so on, I did not find in the speech of your German-American characters either some of their distinctive words in English, or the kind of syntax that one can hear from their lips. German farm people often have some unusual names for things, but I saw no evidence of your knowledge of these. Older German farm folks often speak American English with some influence from German syntax, and these you omitted. Although their diction is rarely as transparent as the Pennsylvania Dutch witticism, “Throw Mama down the stairs her shoes once,” as a priest among German farmers in Iowa and South Dakota I regularly detected a subtle influence of German in syntax, word choice, intonation, and almost always in pronunciation. (Anyone with an ear for languages readily hears German or Norwegian pronunciations in nearly every sentence.) You did not imitate the German influence well at all, and surely not as effectively as yourself used Irish-American patterns of speech and expressions. I have the clear impression that you are far more familiar with Irish and with Irish-American culture than with German farm culture of the Midwest. You can understand my meaning, eh?
Your appreciation for the talents, skills, love of learning of Volga-Germans is evident, and adds interest and pleasure to your novel. However, you may be beyond your realm of actual knowledge and understanding. Especially when you mention Bach (perhaps 20 times in the novel), your knowledge seems shallow. Very few families or communities could “sing a Bach cantata” at home or in church. Bach is highly demanding. At best, someone could play the instrumental parts on the piano, as one or more sang an aria; but I cannot imagine a family singing a chorus from a Bach cantata (a closing chorale, ja, but not an opening chorus). At some point, you mentioned “Bach at his most melancholy.” I invite you to find one composition by Bach that is highly melancholy, or even melancholy at all. Bach can express sadness and peace of soul very well, but he does not capture melancholy; for that, you can find plenty of examples in the agnostic composer Brahms, who suffered from what Nietzsche called “the melancholy of impotence.” Bach, who fathered twenty children, was neither impotent, nor melancholy.
In short, Fr. Greeley, you come across as an entertaining writer who knew how and what to write to rake in the bucks, but your writing is too facile, too unpolished. Again, I praise you for your story of clerical abuse and its cover-up, but in a later novel (if you return to earth, perhaps as Irene), you may imitate German craftsmanship and produce more polished writing. And display, if possible, a more profound insight to the way that clergy have abused their people through widespread spiritual neglect.
Finally, my friend, you tell the truth in claiming that Russian-German farmers often have a good intellectual and artistic culture. You need to broaden that out: rural Americans, especially those rooted in the land as farmers or as ranchers, are often more intellectually open and interested in learning than many urban dwellers. I have lived and worked among largely German-American farmers and ranchers for about twenty years, yet I never heard one call himself a “bumpkin,” or a “hick,” or a “hay seed.” You city dwellers call people of the land by such names. By having your main character, Fr. Herman, refer to himself repeatedly as a “bumpkin,” you reveal to your readers more about the attitude of city-dwellers towards rural people, than the way we see ourselves. You may see us as “bumpkins,” but we pity you as immersed in a noisy, congested, often meaningless urban life—dwellers in decaying, dying big cities. One day you may find a home with Irene living on the open Prairies.
Wm. Paul McKane, OSB
100 years ago today, the countries fighting the “Great War,” the “war to end all wars,” signed an Armistice, and fighting ceased. That was 1918. It did not begin again in Europe openly until 1 September 1939, when Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union both invaded Poland. But already by 1935, as I recall the year, German troops re-occupied the Rhineland unchallenged by the French and British; annexation of Austria, then the Sudetenland of Czechoslovakia, then the annexation of all of Czechoslovakia followed rapidly. If the Great War ended (and is not seen continuing in the “Cold War” between the U.S. and the Soviet Union for decades), it was not until 1945. What we call “World War I” and “World War II” were clearly two phases in the same horrific conflict between Britain-France and Germany-Austria. Obviously the U.S. entered both wars, quite late, on the side of the Atlantic powers, and Russia first fought with Britain-France until the Revolution of 1917, then fought against Germany until June 1941. As Churchill foresaw, “ally” Soviet Union gradually became the main antagonist to the Atlantic powers as Germany’s fate was sealed. And this is just the European theater.
The world wars, or global wars, that began at least as early as 1914 continue in some forms today, but by no means on the same scale as what happened between 1914-1945. As many realize, if there is another outbreak of global war on a vast scale, the devastation will likely make the horrors of WWI and WWII seem relatively minor. Looking back over the last hundred years, one sees more mass killing and mass destruction than would ever have seemed possible two hundred years ago. When the French Revolution—Napoleonic Wars ended in 1815, after so much blood flowed in those European wars, who would have imagined that such a spectacle of murder and destruction was a mere prelude to what would come shortly thereafter.
Armistice day, now our “Veterans’ Day.” The mind sees row upon row of graves in Arlington, or in Normandy, or in Flander’s fields, or mass graves in China, or in Japan… I recall one of the most moving sites I have visited, on the southern end of Okinawa, where tens of thousands of Japanese leapt from cliffs into the sea below rather than be taken captive by American soldiers. Each Japanese prefecture has erected a monument for peace, huge rocks with nothing on them but simple Konji, or Japanese script, with such words as “Peace,” and utter silence. Not a voice is heard as we walked among those memorial rocks. Peace is desired, and yetl, probably to the end of human history, there will be hatred, violence, killing. Armistice Day is a sober reminder that most sadly, there is nor can there be “a war to end all wars,” but only an effort by each and by all to root out the causes of war from one’s own heart. That is the way, the only sure way, as taught by the Buddha about 2500 years ago. A genuine armistice—cessation of arms, of fighting—begins with renouncing all ill-will, hatred, illusion in one’s mind. There is no other way to peace, no other way to a genuine armistice. Anything less is a mere abatement of outward violence as passions seethe.
Shanti, shanti, shanti
Peace to all,
The following letter is part of a dialogue with a young Catholic father who is strongly concerned with the lack of spiritual nourishment in the Church today.
20 June 2018
Dear friend in Christ,
As I wrote in my last memo to parishioners, one’s “spiritual life,” or mental-spiritual development, depends on the efforts a human being makes as trusting in the presence and creative power of God. It does not depend on attending Mass or on the Sacraments, in and of themselves. What the churches offer may invite those present to “participate worthily,” that is, to be attentive and eagerly desire God, and lovingly surrender to the ever-present One, putting His “will” into practice. Put concretely: what happens or does not happen in the mind / “heart” of the participant is what matters in religious services, and not what happens in space-time (externally). What matters is utterly simple: either one is turning towards God, or away from God. All life is either conversion or diversion, epistrophe or apostrophe, using the technical terms developed by the Stoics. As St. Augustine lamented in his Confessions: “Behold, You were within, but I was without….” External worship encourages one to linger “without,” rather than to be present within—present to and with the Presence that we by long tradition call “God.”
The serious problem with Christianity, far beyond clerical abuses of various kinds, is clerical neglect: the failure to help nourish parishioners with healthy, wholesome intellectual-spiritual formation and guidance. One way to put this is simple: Consider your own life, and imagine what your spiritual life would be without the efforts you made to study philosophy (and perhaps theology). I consider my own example, known from within: My family attended religious services weekly as I was growing up, but I am not aware of having received much spiritual or intellectual nourishment through them. The same is true today: other than some “consolation” people may get from attending religious services (and that consolation is of limited value), the benefits that I have seen have come to those men and women who took their own spiritual life seriously, who made a deliberate and conscious effort to study, pray, turn from evil, and do good; very little benefit accrues to those who passively attend any kind of service, whether evangelical, Catholic, Orthodox, and so on.
The real problem facing human beings is how to become truly awake and alive in one’s lifetime. Meditation and study, linked with personal discipline, as in the Christian and Buddhist traditions, does far more good than fairly mindless, passive sharing in any religious ceremonies. The example, goodness, love from men and women who happen to be Christian of one sort or another has been highly helpful to me, but such goodness is not directly linked to attending services, or “reading the bible,” as in evangelical traditions. Furthermore, much of the good that can be offered to persons in religious services is lost on social programs and the “social gospel,” which is indeed “no gospel at all.” Clergy have often neglected to assist in the spiritual formation of their people, probably in large part because “one cannot give what one does not have.” From what I hear from parishioners who attend Masses elsewhere when they travel or are away from home, they find little intellectual-spiritual meat in the preaching / teaching, but rather see emphases on outward forms of worship, entertaining music, social action programs, and the like. In the case of Catholic clergy, many do not even struggle to prepare homilies, but download canned “homilies” off the internet, or take them from “homily helps.” Unless the priest or minister is speaking “from faith to faith” (Romans 1), he or she is not “preaching Christ,” and helping to form the hearer, but just amusing, entertaining, perhaps chastising. The word that forms the hearer must grow out of a spirit alive in the now to the presence of God. Otherwise, it is not the “word of God,” but mere human words of more or less mindless chatter. If and only if the one preaching is immediately present to divine Presence is one in truth a “minister of the Word.” In the words of the Apostle, “the written text kills, but the Spirit gives life.”
Had I not studied philosophy and sought to practice meditation as a Benedictine monk, and not been blessed to have some truly good examples of right living and practical wisdom in my life, I think that I would have received very little spiritual-intellectual nourishment as a Catholic Christian. What do the churches have to offer to human beings? One often must seek God, loving and doing the truth, despite what is being done in and by the churches. Neither the educational establishments in our society, nor the religious institutions, are now offering human beings much that is truly beneficial. Or to put the matter differently: unless one struggles to learn, and works hard to grow morally, intellectually, and spiritually, one will be unformed, deformed, malnourished. Our schools, universities, churches have largely been failing to do what they ought to do, and generally pretend to do, at considerable expense.
What is a person’s “spiritual life”? What does it mean to be “spiritually alive,” or “awake in one’s lifetime?” I ask the question believing that spiritual life is not only good, but ought to be one’s highest priority. And I ask it now because it is important for each of us to understand a basic truth: you are responsible for you. Another human being can guide you towards the right path, the way of life, but you yourself must make the effort, and you yourself must reject false paths and steadily seek and do the truth. No other human being can live your life for you, cleanse you, “save you.” Not even God Almighty can “save” you, cleanse your inner person, renew your spirit, unless you freely choose to share in what God freely offers from moment to moment.You did not create yourself, but you cannot be whole or happy or truly blessed, unless you develop habits of rejecting evil and doing good, unless you truly seek to know and to do the will of God. To better understand the dynamics of the spiritual life of a human being, let’s suspend for a few moments “God talk,” and examine the human reality in light of the truth of experience.
You say, “I am hungry,” so you feed yourself. You say, “I have toothache,” so you go to a dentist. Now, suppose one feels confused, depressed, anxious? All too often, one wants a quick cure, an immediate solution. Mental and spiritual problems—confusion, sorrow, worry, hatred, ignorance—did not just happen at one time. By various situations, and by many choices, many actions, one becomes what one is, and what one feels inside. A person who squanders much time in entertainment or mindless activities or in drug abuse, who does not discipline himself to rise early, to work hard, to do one’s proper tasks, to spend time in quiet and meditation will, over time, becomes confused, dull of spirit, listless, troubled, anxious, depressed. With the right concentration of one’s energies on such spiritual tasks as doing one’s daily duties, working for the good of others, eating and drinking healthy foods in moderation, getting proper exercise, sitting still in the presence of God or of “no-god,” then one becomes sane, balanced, and more alert. No one can keep eating junk food, abusing alcohol or drugs, not exercising, not nourishing the inner person through disciplined meditation and study and expect to be spiritually alive, awake, and mentally healthy. You become what you do.
Christians have often neglected to develop a proper spiritual-mental life, because they thought it would just happen, or the Church or Bible or God would do it for them. The Church is here to assist you on your path into God; you yourself must make the effort, trusting in the supportive presence of God (called “grace”). Not even the Eucharist works automatically; if you do not truly desire oneness with God even at the cost of dying to your own fleeting desires, how do you expect to “grow in grace,” to “receive the Holy Spirit,” to become truly blessed and happy? Good things in life nearly never happen without much effort. Unless you yourself strive to attune yourself to the all-good mind and will, to refresh yourself in Beauty, why should you expect to be happy and in peace?
May we have the good sense and discipline to listen to God and to obey regardless of the cost. “Through much suffering one enters the Kingdom of God,” that is, lives in the peace and freedom of God. And Christ Jesus assures us: “Know that I AM with you always, even to the end of the age.”
Several people have said to me recently, “Priests do not retire.” I cannot speak justly for diocesan priests, because I am not one, but for my part, I think that parish priests can and do retire, and in many cases, deservedly so. I am happy for a retiring diocesan priest who served his parishioners for years, who proclaimed Christ faithfully in word and deed, who truly dedicated himself to “the care of souls,” that is, to the spiritual well-being of his parishioners. Such priests—and bishops—deserve to retire, and to continue to serve in a pastoral role if and when they wish to do so. Such service is optional after retirement, and how much one does, and the kinds of work, would depend on the individual priest’s willingness, interests, and health. That they continue assisting with some pastoral duties is not required, but their own personal choice—with the permission of the local bishop, of course.
But I am not a diocesan priest, but a Benedictine monk, who was selected for ordination to the priesthood by my Abbot to serve our monastic community and, at times, to assist others who are linked to our monastery. A Benedictine monastic, male or female, has one primary goal: to seek God with all of one’s resources, with the grace of God, until death. The work of seeking God does not end, and from this task, one does not retire. For those monks who are also ordained as priests, there is always a tension, if not a contradiction, between the life of a monk and active priestly ministry. Normally, the monk seeks God within the walls of the monastery. With my Abbot’s permission, I temporarily served as a Navy Chaplain with Marines and Sailors during the Gulf War because of emergency need. Later he asked me to assist in a parish a few miles from our monastery. Then with his permission, I served as a parish priest in the Midwest, and in 2009 I returned to serve temporarily in parishes in my home state of Montana. I serve here only with the permission of my Abbot, to whom I belong as a monk, and with the permission of Bishop Michael. Whether or not a bishop permits me to function as a priest in his diocese after retirement is his decision.
As of early this year my Abbot granted me permission to remain living outside of the monastic walls, at least “for the duration.” He has the authority to call me back to St. Anselm’s Abbey at any time, and for any reason. As I retire from active pastoral duty, my monastic calling and vows must return to the fore: to give my energies to seeking the presence of the living God. This search requires many hours of solitude, profound peace, contemplative prayer, and nourishing study. Having been formed as a Benedictine monk of St. Anselm’s Abbey (Washington, DC), and having lived the life for years in our monastery, I have a good sense of what is required of me. It will necessitate making considerable changes as I retire from active ministry on 1 July: it will take time and prayer for me to know how best to live as a faithful Benedictine monk.
To help me adjust to returning to the life of a Benedictine, I will in effect be taking a sabbatical, and not be available for pastoral substitute work at least for some time. I must also limit social invitations, as befits a more contemplative lifestyle. The best way to contact me, should you wish to do so, is by email. My iPhone will be turned off much of the time, as required for silence. Furthermore, I have planned day trips to areas in Montana in the summer months to exercise my dogs and me, and to see more of beautiful Montana then active life has permitted. I will also spend time with my brother in Utah, make a quiet retreat on the Oregon coast in the fall, and then visit my sister and her husband in San Diego over the Christmas holidays. I have not seen my family for several years.
As several of you have truly said, I will need to be retired for a while to learn how to handle the changes well. Having worked full time since my student days, and having been busy serving in active priestly ministry since 1991, retirement will require major adjustments, as it does for everyone. Some folks have asked if I will be “bored.” My response is: “Are you serious? I have many interests and hobbies.” More fundamentally, retirement permits one to strive for peace in solitude and silence, as befits a Benedictine. In truth, retirement is a graced time for anyone to seek God; that is our human calling. Furthermore, writing would be a more suitable way to continue ministering to the faithful, as it requires solitude. The LORD will guide me to assist in pastoral duties, such as funerals, at the right time, if it is appropriate to do so. In all things, peace: “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Know that you will be with me in my heart and prayer. I will treasure the years we have spent together in this passing light.
—Fr. Wm. Paul McKane, OSB (Benedictine monk of St. Anselm’s Abbey)
Perhaps the most accessible truth of the Christian faith to discuss intelligently is the Holy Spirit. Let’s begin with the words themselves. The words “Holy Spirit” or “Spirit of God,” or “the Spirit,” are symbols in our English language for the Hebrew ruach (breath; spirit), and the Greek word pneuma (breath, spirit). The connection between breath and spirit is still found in English words. Consider, for examples, “inspire” and “expire.” To “inspire” literally means “to breathe [life] into” someone, or to help bring the Spirit of God into another’s mind or heart. The word “expire” means both “to breath out,” and “to breath one’s last,” that is, “to give up the ghost,” to give up the spirit, to die. Where there is life, where there is breath, there is the creative Spirit of God. “The Spirit gives life,” life eternally.
What do discerning Christians mean when they speak of “the Holy Spirit?” They are not talking dogmatically, although there is the dogma of the Holy Trinity in the background, which we respect. When Christians speak of “the Holy Spirit” or “the Spirit,” they typically mean an experience of the presence of God in their soul or mind. The Spirit is the direct presence of the world-transcendent God, the One who brings all things into being. In the New Testament documents, the “Spirit” is used especially by three authors: the Apostle Paul; the evangelist Luke; and the evangelist John. (“Holy Spirit” or equivalents occur throughout the New Testament to a lesser degree.) As I have often explained, in the usage of New Testament authors, when they wish to communicate the experience of God as personal, they symbolize the experiences as “Christ,” or “Christ Jesus,” or “the Risen One,” and so on. When they write about their experiences of God as impersonal—as that which enlivens, enlightens, or cleanses, heals, teaches, guides, forgives, comforts, gives peace, and so on—they usually use the term “holy Spirit,” or equivalent. But we know from the Gospel accounts that while the LORD was embodied as Jesus, He is often credited as the source of enlightenment, healing, peace, forgiveness and so on. After Christ’s death and Resurrection appearances, the impersonal experiences of God are credited to “the holy Spirit.” So the distinction is approximate, not complete: Christ is personal—“I love you,” “I have chosen you,” and the Spirit is impersonal: “I was lifted up in the Spirit,” “it is the Spirit who gives life,” and so on. As for “the Father,” the symbol reminds the believer that there is always far more reality to the depth of divinity than anyone could ever experience, no matter how life-changing the conversion or manifestation of “the Spirit,” or of “the Risen Christ.” God remains ever beyond human grasp and comprehension. Self-enclosed experiences are gnostic, not Christian.
What is the Holy Spirit? That is the question that slipped from my lips during a discussion with one of the greatest philosophers of the past century, whom I was questioning as I worked on my doctorate on “The Experiential Foundation of Christian Political Philosophy.” To my question “What is the Holy Spirit?,” the philosopher answered with a question that penetrated my heart: “What do you think is moving you to ask your questions?” As a member of a doctrinal Christian church, I had been told that asking questions showed “doubt,” or “a lack of faith.” On the contrary: to ask spiritual questions, life questions, real questions, is precisely the work of the Holy Spirit in the heart and mind of a human being; not to question shows a lack of faith. What a relief to hear this insight, which served to release me from doctrinal imprisonment. The hallmarks of the Holy Spirit are love, joy, peace, self-control, and so on; and if one encounters an open mind, someone searching for truth about God and human being, then one is meeting a foremost activity of the Holy Spirit: asking the right questions.
When young people ask us questions that are genuine questions, and not mere quibbling or game-playing, do we realize that they are moved by the Holy Spirit? Or when you say to God, “Do you love me?,” do you wonder, “Am I asking this question of God, or is God asking it of me? Or both at once?” If you ask God in prayer, “LORD, what would you have me do?,” you are motivated by the holy Spirit. If you think you have God figured out, or that the Bible or the Church has “all the answers,” and you refuse to question and to search, then you are thwarting the liberating action of the Holy Spirit in your life. Are you living by the Spirit, or by the flesh—that is, by trusting in God’s presence, or by your own fleeting desires? The Spirit ever draws one beyond the bounds of a self-contained, self-centered existence into “the freedom of the children of God,” into ever expanding horizons. Life without self-imposed boundaries is the realm of the Holy Spirit. To enter into it is to enter into “heaven,” the Kingdom of God, eternal happiness. Amen!
Is Jesus Christ present or absent? If present, in what way(s) is Christ present? If absent, where is he? Where has Christ gone? Does he live “up in the sky with the angels,” or somewhere in the abyss of space, on a strange planet? These questions are those of a child or of a fundamentalist, not of someone mature in Christ. But the question, “How is Christ present, while being absent in body?” is indeed a good and fruitful question. “Seek and you will find.”
The oldest Christian documents (the letters of the Apostle Paul, the Gospels, other NT epistles) do not ask these questions directly or as boldly. Rather, they begin with real experiences, and express their experiences of God in Christ in the symbolic language of the New Testament. There is no way to speak of non-physical, non-existent reality except in symbols; and one without experience of their truth may misunderstand the symbolic meaning or consider them to be “meaningless.” In fact, the symbolic language of spiritual experience is precise within its own kind, and is highly meaningful, as generations of the faithful will attest based on their own faith and love in Christ Jesus.
Here are some typical symbolic formulations about the murdered and living Christ: “This Jesus whom you crucified is not here [in the tomb]; He is risen.” “Jesus Christ is Lord of the dead and of the living.” Or in words attributed to the Resurrected, “Behold, I AM with you always, even to the end of the age.” The expressions of faith in Christ as risen from the dead, as God’s means of ruling over human beings (hence, called “Lord” or Ruler), and as present with his disciples are abundantly found in the earliest Christian writings, long before doctrines had been formulated and fixed, as in the Nicene Creed (321). “For me to live is Christ; to die is gain.”
The fundamental experience of the risen Christ is always paradoxical: for Christ is both absent and present at the same time. He is absent physically, so that one cannot see a body or hear his voice with one’s ears; but He is present in spirit in the depths of the believer, who has opened himself up to the presence of the living God. The presence of the Risen Christ is variously symbolized as the “I AM with you,” as “Christ is in you,” or in the more impersonal symbol of “the Spirit of Christ is in you.” In other words, although Jesus is not physically present, He is very much spiritually present and active in the hearts and minds of the faithful who open their hearts to the LORD’s presence. Indeed, this opening of the mind and heart to Christ is what is meant by “conversion,” by “coming to faith.” Faith is not a belief about Jesus, but fundamentally a loving surrender right now to His presence. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone opens the door [of the heart], I will come in and commune with him, and he with me.” The faithful also understand Christ to be sacramentally present in the proclaimed word and in the Eucharist. “Take and eat; this is my body, which is for you; do this in memory of Me.”
These are the issues at stake in the symbolization of Christ’s “Ascension:” not only is Christ risen and alive, but He is active as the presence of the living God who liberates, sanctifies, guides, heals, challenges, rules over those who obey Him. Do not look for a body floating around in space, or for the “Son of God” living on a planet somewhere. These childish beliefs serve to keep God away, to live an autonomous life without the indwelling God. Rather, listen for the “still small voice” of the One who communes, heart to heart, with a trusting and loving human being. It is really that simple. Visual arts portray Jesus as a body disappearing behind clouds, but visual arts must use the physical to disclose the spiritual. Music is less hindered by physical representation. In the music of Schütz or J. S. Bach, for example, one encounters the risen and glorified Christ directly in sound, without being masked by clouds. In their glorious compositions, they directly communicate Jesus Christ. “I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.” And Christ most surely does enter into the mind that is still seeking, who knows it does not know, and longs for a deeper communion. The Risen Christ does indeed come to “the poor in spirit,” to those who question, seek, stay awake, are attentive, listen. Or Christ can ask, “Have I been with you for so long, and yet you do now know me?”
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