Home » Uncategorized
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Merry Christmas to all, wherever you are in the world, and whether you are celebrating today, or waiting until the Julian calendar comes around.
I am in a reflective mood, and it has been a very long time since I wrote anything on the blog.
In recent years, a lot of my free writing energy has been spent over on Quora, which was introduced to me by a physicist friend as a place where experts could answer questions directly, but has devolved somewhat to a more popular site. Nevertheless, a lot of quality writing can be found there, and I have done my best over the years to provide quality answers to questions on ecumenism, theology, church history and canon law, as well as occasionally weigh in on cultural, geographic, or personality perspectives.
You can peruse some of that here:
Since June 2017, I have answered about 5000 questions, and my contributions have been read by over 6 million people, at a rate of between 50,000 and 90,000 per week – so the impact is significantly higher than any academic writing I have done, or even this blog, which, when active (October 2009 to June 2016), had about 3000 subscribers and never more than 8,000 views in a month.
As I write, I am sitting in my childhood home in the foothills of the Cascades, outside of Seattle, and it has finally started snowing for the first time (for more than a few minutes) this winter. It is a quiet Christmas afternoon, my mother and one brother in the house, at opposite ends.
I have been home from Rome, rather unexpectedly, since August. The pandemic wiped out much of international higher education and study abroad programs in Rome, summer programs, and basically all the work that kept me busy teaching the City, and teaching in the City. I have muddled through with translations and editing, and have turned into more of a couch potato than I should be comfortable with, having gained back all the weight I lost when I moved to Rome all those years ago.
Rome has been home for a dozen years (2009-2021), and nearly tied with my childhood in North Bend (1981-1994) as the longest anywhere. It is not clear at the moment how or when I’ll be back, or where my next place will be, but I was reflecting on some of the numbers of my Roman experience.
Despite the long time calling Rome home, it has hardly been easy or settled. I have had to pack up and move no fewer than 23 times in that period, and considering I was blessed with the stability of one apartment from April 2018 to July 2021, most of that was condensed into even less time. (And each of those moves were for at least a month somewhere, not counting vacations and visits and the like, of course). Moving is exhausting, even when it is only across town or to pack up everything for a summer and have to find lodging outside the academic year.
I have taught 61 university classes since 2013, and helped with two others, for six different universities and higher education institutions. More than most professors by the time they get tenure. But, as with nearly everyone in Rome, remain perpetually adjunct and frequently forgotten about by the main campus, or, as a non-ordained person, not even eligible for permanent positions in some institutions. I have also worked in administrative roles for three different institutions, completed two degrees/diplomas, tackled the doctorate with two different universities and advisors, and studied, researched, or had fellowships at a total of eight different institutions in six different countries.
My average income has been about 21,200 Euro per year (about $24,000), since moving to Rome – including in-kind provisions for room and board at times – which is less than I made as an interim parish youth minster in my first year of ministry almost 20 years ago, not even considering inflation.
I, and my colleagues, received one raise from one university since 2013, and it was not even enough to account for the inflation since I started teaching there – though it was more generous than anyone else has offered. Teaching a class for a university or seminary in Rome can, and has, paid between about 800 euro and 4500 euro per class. The average has been 3000 Euro (gross) per class, meaning about 1900 Euro after taxes, typically. (Which is a rather complicated other subject…)
I have also, because of the lack of funding, support, and stability, had to start and stop and start again a doctorate at two different universities with two different advisors, all of which being done in between the average working more than full time for multiple employers part time and temporarily, often without stability. That looks to be finally finishing up in this coming year, as, in the words of my current advisor, I’ve been “trying to write the entire Oxford Encyclopedia on the Diaconate, rather than a modest 180 page book. Stop trying to change the world and just get your degree.”
I have delivered 43 academic presentations or conference papers, planned and/or staffed 27 academic conferences, participated in 25 additional conferences or symposia, edited one anthology, translated two books and more than 150 articles for six different institutions, and done a terrible job of turning most of that into peer-reviewed publications except for a few book reviews.
I have consulted with Hollywood over a Netflix show (cancelled, unfortunately) and with a couple novelists about their books. I have met two popes, two archbishops of Canterbury, the ecumenical patriarch, and more cardinals than I can shake a stick at. I participated in most of the major papal liturgies of a decade, including the canonizations of some of my heros of the faith: Oscar Romero, Mother Teresa, John XXIII and Paul VI, Kateri Tekakwitha, Andre Bessette, and others.
I have travelled to about 30 countries, spent a semester in Jerusalem, a month or more in Cyprus, Wales, and Greece, met friends from all over the world, and am deeply indebted to the kindness, generosity, and care of a few special people, (C and E, especially, who know who they are, I hope!). Despite challenges, I have had many blessings and many opportunities, and met people I never could have otherwise – and I deeply appreciate the international, intercultural, and interreligious perspective I have benefited from.
Depression and poverty have been the most persistent and overwhelming challenges, though Italian bureaucracy and clericalism both make good showing – I may have to write on those another time. The last year was really one of my hardest, and even those closest and kindest to me were burdened with too much, so I’ve landed home for a spell, and an opportunity to look for new directions or come to terms with the way things are. Keep me in prayer, and especially any of those who I have hurt, failed, or disappointed on the way.
After having consecrated my life to the Church more than 25 years ago and rather naively believing I would therefore have the Church’s support for my vocation, at least enough to not be constantly scrambling for scraps or relying overmuch on friends, family, and relationships just to survive, I am also at a vocational turning point. When I would have been ordained, my bishop then told me I had to choose between presbyterate – and therefore being only a parish pastor – or ecumenism and academic theology, there therefore not being ordained. Ironically, in Rome, I have been told my not being ordained is the main reason I have no position in the Pontifical Councils for Christian Unity or Interreligious Dialogue, or stability in my work, or even that lay people should not study theology, as if we had any brains we would do medicine or law or tech instead to make money.
A friend asked if I was still doing ecumenism anymore. It has literally been a lifetime pursuit and vocation, but after a lifetime of being shunted aside for being lay, or for dedicating first and foremost to this and not something else, and often not even able to receive a basic living from this dedication to the Church, even as much as a simple priest would have, I have begun to question what my direction should be. It is unsettling, and your prayers and ideas and support are welcome.
I welcomed the Francis pontificate with joy, and the hope for reform and forward momentum was rekindled, but the hatred and bile, the dissent and schism that his light has aroused among those who loved the darkness, and seeing something of a parallel in response to the pandemic and the rise of Trump’s cult in the US has also been dismaying. It is hard to hold on to hope, faith, or feel love, in such a climate, even when those closest to me have tried, far above and beyond what is expected.
And yet, all these changes and challenges have brought me home, unexpectedly, with only a little work online, to spend more time with my family, especially my niece and nephews than I have ever had in their young lives. The first time I was ever home for my nieces birthday, or my youngest nephew’s and the first for my oldest nephew (now 14) since he turned one. The first Halloween, Thanksgiving, or St. Nicholas Day with family, in their lives. And while it came at a cost, it was apparently needed, and therefore I thank God.
I ask your prayers as I learn what this all means, as I rediscover graciousness and gratitude and perspective, and for forgiving others even as others work to forgive me. And, in the midst of that, a meaningful way to fulfil my vocation!
Perhaps appropriate then, that we celebrate the Nativity, the Incarnation, the humble birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus called Christ, as the snow falls here amidst the evergreen trees, and we are reminded that death and sin are conquered, that even the darkest hours merely precede the coming of the Light of the World.
A decade after my arrival in Rome as part of the first internationally recruited cohort of Russell Berrie Fellows in Interreligious Studies, the program was still going, stronger than ever, in fact.
Despite the pandemic, last year’s cohort managed to make the best of their experience, and I just recently came across a blog they prepared.
August is normally a quiet month in Rome.
A month ago today, Pope Francis accepted the resignation of Theodore McCarrick, 88, from the college of cardinals. And that was merely the beginning.
This was a first: No pope – none – has removed a cardinal for reasons related to the sex abuse scandal in recent memory, if ever. Compare Francis’ two immediate predecessors:
When it became known in 2013 that Cardinal Keith O’Brien (Scotland) was found, like McCarrick, to have engaged throughout the 1980s-90s in the abuse of power, sexual misconduct, and sexual assault of adults under his authority, Pope Benedict (who would announce his retirement a few days later) finally accepted his retirement as archbishop, and allowed him to go on retreat for a period of “spiritual renewal, prayer and penance”. Ostensibly on his own volition, O’Brien choose not to participate in the conclave the following month, but there is no indication that there were any sanctions imposed on him as a cardinal by Benedict.
Only after Francis was elected was a visitation and investigation initiated – again, something unprecedented – and when the results of the investigation landed on Francis’ desk, O’Brien was he relieved of the “rights and duties” of a cardinal, though he still remained a cardinal, entitled to dress and be addressed as such. It was a bizarre half measure, some attest to Benedict’s intercession.
When Cardinal Bernard Law was found to have covered-up sexual abuse by priests in Boston for years, and his resignation from that post eventually accepted, Pope John Paul II gave him an honorary post as cardinal-archpriest of the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome and allowed him all the rights and duties of cardinal, with a great deal of influence in the Roman curia for several years to come. Benedict did not change this, allowing him to continue unabated until retiring at the age of 80 from these roles.
We can only imagine how many other cases there have been without any public action on the part of popes at all.
Now comes this letter of former nuncio to the U.S., Archbishop Viganò, claiming, among many other things, that Pope Benedict had in fact placed McCarrick on some kind of (double secret) suspension, but that Pope Francis had allowed McCarrick freedom again, and for this reason he should resign. (More on that later).
Pope emeritus Benedict has not, as of this writing, said anything about them, nor has Pietro Sambi, who was apparently responsible for communicating them to McCarrick. Pope Francis apparently trusts our ability to read critically enough to see Viganò’s letter for what it is, and no more.
Viganò claims that “the Cardinal was to leave the seminary where he was living, he was forbidden to celebrate [Mass] in public, to participate in public meetings, to give lectures, to travel,with the obligation of dedicating himself to a life of prayer and penance.”
It seems unlikely that there were any such restrictions, except perhaps the request to move out of the seminary.
First, if such sanction existed, the failure to make them public would be a grave scandal in itself. “Secret” laws are no law at all, and one of the issues at the heart of this ongoing scandal is the lack of transparency. In which case, yes a pope would be morally at fault for failing to act appropriately, and for covering up knowledge of an abuser. But that pope would be Benedict, not Francis.
It does not stretch the imagination much to think that the old guard would have thought this an acceptable solution: McCarrick was elderly, no longer a threat, and already retired both as archbishop and on curial dicasteries. Let him meet his maker without another public scandal. Very Romanità. Very much the kind of thing Francis has decried since the beginning.
Even if this were the way it played out, wrong though it might be, that would not be reason enough for Benedict to resign (though he eventually did). It would be reason to confess his error, correct it, and never do it again. It certainly is not a reason for Francis to resign.
But Ockham’s Razor suggests that most likely, there never were any formal sanctions. Certainly, both Pope Benedict and Viganò “violated” these sanctions if there were, concelebrating mass with McCarrick, being at public events with him, and saying and doing nothing about it.
What is more likely is simply that McCarrick was told to sell his beach house and stop spending summer vacations there with seminarians (done in 2000) and then, in retirement, not to reside in the seminary. Which he did. And that’s about it, as far as ‘sanctions’ seem to have gone, until Pope Francis acted.
The culture of secrecy that pervaded the Church up to and including the papacy of John Paul II, only slowly began to crumble under Benedict XVI, and finally being torn away by Francis, is part of the clericalism that allowed this filth to spread thoroughly through the House of God.
As with any serious housecleaning, things get messier before they get organized, the dirt becomes more visible – but you don’t blame the cleaner! As with anyone shining the light of Truth into dark corners, those who prefer the darkness will do anything to put out the light.
And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. John 3:19
As an ecumenist i encounter a lot of confusion about the status of the Society of St. Pius X. Though no more in full communion with the Catholic Church than the old Catholics, the Anglicans, or the Orthodox, perpetual rumors and misinformation abound because of the presence of so many in the fifth column of Radical Traditionalist Catholics nominally in the Church. This sums it up well.
This post has been a long time coming. It recounts much of what ought to be clear to the careful observer, but since it runs contrary to the popular narrative this documentation is in order. I wish to put to rest the fatuous misrepresentations of the dialogue between Rome and the Society of St. Pius X.
My account is by no means complete, but neither does it omit the pertinent facts. A separate analysis could be devoted to the various nuances of positions represented within the Society. The Society is by no means a homogeneous group and admits of degrees of intensity in regard to the “hardline.” It is certainly true that there was more sympathy within the Society towards the Pope Benedict’s efforts at reconciliation than was often manifested in the media. However, for several reasons, I do not think it is necessary to attend to these nuances in order to bring to light the aspects…
View original post 2,228 more words
Every time the media, some blogger, or a friend on facebook lament the “confusing” effect of Pope Francis, Amoris Laetitia, or the gospel, they pull out the infamous dubia of Cardinals Brandmüller, Burke, Caffarra, and Meisner or the letter of 45 “theologians” sent to the cardinals critiquing or dissenting from the apostolic exhortation. (Really, only about 15 of the signatories are theologians, some of note, the rest being lawyers, philosophers, grad students and simple clerics).
The latest example, from Religion News Service, covering last weekend colloquium in Paris on the history of deposing popes for heresy:
After Pope Francis did not respond to the call to explain his views, the four cardinals — including an American based in Rome, Cardinal Raymond Burke — released the text of their appeal. Burke also gave an interview saying the pope would automatically lose his office if he professed a heresy.
In December, another group of 23 Catholic scholars and cleric issued a letter saying the church was now “drifting perilously like a ship without a rudder, and indeed, shows symptoms of incipient disintegration.” They urged the four cardinals to issue a so-called fraternal correction.
Whether their complaints and cautions have any merit or not, and whether these are academic heavyweights or not is not my immediate concern. But consider this:
There are 223 cardinals, only four (three retired) signed the dubia.
It is a little hard to find statistics on just how many theologians there are, surprisingly, but a quick estimate* suggests something like 23,000 Catholic theologians (with a doctorate), worldwide. Only 15 singed this dissent letter.
So, <2% of cardinals, and 0.06% of theologians have formally expressed criticism or dissent from Amoris Laetitia.
Granted, it is always fair to assume that there are some whose sentiments are in accord with those expressed by did not or could not sign the letters, so there are larger numbers with similar ideas. But still. These numbers are tiny. Minuscule, even. No way do they deserve the level of attention they have been given.
Though, the fact that they can do so is nothing short of amazing. Barely a decade ago, only tenured professors dared even utter words like “clericalism” or “reform”, much less things like “married priests” or “formal correction of a pope”. For an entire generation previously, criticism of, and even voicing differing opinions than, the pope was a good way to loose your job, damage your career, and guarantee persona non grata status on commissions or as curial consultors. Now, at least ,there is freedom to express yourself on such things without petty reprisals.
The simple reality is the vast majority of people who know what they are talking about back the pope and the bishops. The vast majority of people who mostly know what they are talking about back the pope and the bishops. This should not surprise anyone. But it seems to, almost constantly. Perhaps because too large a voice is given to this cantankerous minority, and it has far too much influence here in Rome. Another three decades of Francis or another in his mold might just shift the paradigm, otherwise, more direct action needs to be taken to balance the perspective to match reality.
Perhaps the press could help, by, instead of highlighting these fringe voices of dissent or doubt, focusing on the 219 cardinals and 22,985* theologians going along with the thought of the Church, hm?
*There are 1358 Catholic higher education institutes worldwide, about 215 in the U.S. alone. Those 215 produce about 90 research doctorates in theology (PhD, ThD, STD) every year. That info I could find easily. So lets extrapolate and guess 570 PhD’s in theology worldwide, per annum (that’s possibly generous). But again, estimate 40 years of being in the workforce before emeritus status, and there are potentially 23,000 Catholic theologians out there. Not even counting those of us with DMin, STL, MDiv, MTS, MA, etc. And certainly not counting philosophers and
sophists lawyers who think they are theologians!
PS: I would love someone with accurate statistics on theologians and theology PhDs to come along and correct me, please.
If you mean non-Christians, the answer is clearly “no”.
But, assuming you mean other Christians, the short answer is “yes”. The slightly longer, but more accurate answer, is “yes, IF…”
It seems pretty basic, but you might be surprised how often this question still comes up, and worse, how often the people offering answers get it wrong, at least in part.
The question asks, “is it possible”, not “is it normally the case”. The answer to the former is “yes”, and to the latter “no, but there are exceptions”.
One thing that is absolutely clear: To say “non-Catholics cannot receive sacraments in the Catholic Church” is plainly wrong according to the law, and potentially sinful.
First let us remember the ideal: That all Christians should be part of one and the same communion, that One Church willed by Christ in a real, visible, tangible way. In such a case, naturally all Christians could receive communion together.
However, because of our brokenness, because of our human failing and sin, because of fault that lay with Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants alike, the Church is wounded. Its unity maybe substantially present, but it is defective, and needs repair. As long as this abnormal state of division persists, we cannot freely share Eucharistic communion, which is a sign of ecclesiastical communion.
Above all, this not-sharing is meant to provoke a painful longing that prompts action for unity.
In 1983, the revised Code of Canon Law for the Latin Church was published, nearly twenty years after the Council that mandated it. It outlined several conditions for the ministry of the sacraments in Canon 844. Allow me to summarize:
§844.1 You should normally receive sacraments only from ministers in the same communion. But there are exceptions built into this norm. (That is, as part of the law itself; not even considering exceptions of pastoral prudential judgement or oikonomia)
§844.2 Catholics can always receive some sacraments from some non-Catholic Churches.
§844.3 Some Non-Catholic Christians are always welcome to participate in some sacraments from the Catholic Church.
§844.4 Non-Catholic Christians who do not fall into the category of always being welcome to participate in these sacraments, can be allowed sometimes, in certain situations.
§844.5 Local or national norms must be made in consultation with ecumenical counterparts in any affected church or communion.
There are certain considerations that apply universally to this question, whether for Catholics or non-Catholics approaching the sacraments:
- Only baptized Christians can approach the sacraments
- Proper disposition is always expected
- It is a free and spontaneous act, motivated out of genuine need or desire for the sacrament (as opposed to an act of protest or a ‘shotgun’ sacrament, for example)
- “Indifferentism” and “Triumphalism” must both be avoided
- Indifferentism is the sin of accepting our divisions as normal, and that sacramental sharing between broken communions is normal or normative.
- Triumphalism is the sin of thinking that ‘we’ are better than the other because we ‘own’ the truth, or the Real Presence, or suchlike. Making mockery of other churches’ liturgies or sacraments is an example.
§844.3 and .4 are the most relevant to the original question:
Can non-Catholic Christians receive communion at a Catholic church?
Paragraph three tells us that, given the universal conditions above, the members of the following churches and communions are always welcome at Catholic sacraments: Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, Assyrian Church of the East, Old Catholics; anyone else the pope determines to be “in a similar situation”.
Paragraph four tells us that anyone not in the “always welcome” category can receive Reconciliation, Eucharist, or Anointing under the following circumstances:
-They share the Catholic faith in these sacraments (e.g., believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist), AND
-Their own minister or community is inaccessible, AND EITHER
-They are in danger of death, OR
-They have a grave or pressing need (What these are to be determined by the bishop or bishops’ conference. Those that have done so have named, e.g., weddings, funerals, a child’s first communion, mixed marriages, spiritual crises, et al.).
And that remains the law in force. However, just a dozen years after the promulgation of this code, the same pope who authorized it, St. John Paul II, modified these requirements – and this is frequently overlooked.
In his 1995 encyclical Ut Unum Sint, the Polish pontiff said,
…it is a source of joy to note that Catholic ministers are able, in certain particular cases, to administer the Sacraments of the Eucharist, Penance and Anointing of the Sick to Christians who are not in full communion with the Catholic Church but who
1) greatly desire to receive these sacraments,
2) freely request them, and
3) manifest the faith which the Catholic Church professes with regard to these sacraments. (UUS, §46)
First, it is a “source of joy”. Not grudging admission or acceptance. Not mere tolerance nor haughty triumphalism. It is a a joy that we can share the sacraments, some of the time, despite our divisions.
It is just a pity he did not actually modify the Code to match his encyclical, which would have removed all doubt – but that was a common problem of his pontificate.
Not only is saying “Non-Catholics cannot receive sacraments in the Catholic Church” plainly wrong according to the law, it is morally wrong to take any joy in denying fellow Christians this opportunity or from the state of brokenness in which we find ourselves.
Other developments between 1983 and 1995:
- “danger of death or grave and pressing need” is simplified to “great desire”
- “spontaneously request” is clarified as “freely” requesting, so no one is tempted to hinder someone who has been thinking about this for a while
- the accessibility of their own minister is irrelevant
That was twenty years ago. It is only to be expected that the fruits of ecumenical dialogue have resulted in even further development. Pope Francis, in his visits to the Lutheran and Anglican congregations in Rome, and in his Jubilee recognition of Lefebvrite confessors, has indicated as much.
Perhaps it is time for the apostolic see to recognize “in a similar situation” to the Eastern churches, some of the churches and ecclesial communities of the West, particularly the Anglicans, some Lutherans, and the SSPX. At least, we can acknowledge the growth in agreement about sacraments, especially Orders and Eucharist, to be sufficient to allow more common sharing along the lines of John Paul II’s vision of twenty years ago, or more.
So, can non-Catholics receive communion at a Catholic Eucharist? Yes, they can – if they are baptized, properly disposed, recognize that this division of Christians is not normal, greatly desire them, freely request them, and share a “catholic” belief about them.
Which, if you think about it, would likely be the case if someone is intentionally approaching the sacrament in a Catholic Church anyway, no?
Yesterday, Crux and others shared news that Pope Francis, in an interview with the German newspaper Die Zeit, had indicated openness to ordaining married men in the Latin Church. It is not the first time. Twenty, thirty years ago, one could safely bet that the world’s bishops supported the idea, but it was the pope who was opposed; now it seems to be the other way around.
However, as you read the comments available from today’s article (so far, only portions of the interview are available) it does not sound all that “open” after all. There are some serious red flags already flying. At first glance, fully anticipating more clarity from the full interview, I have three questions:
- Who are these “viri probati”?
- What would be the effect on the diaconate?
- Why would “isolated communities” be better for married priests, or, why would it be difficult to “find what to do with them”?
Who are these “viri probati”?
Viri probati is a red herring. Not that I have anything against the ordination of “proven men”, of course. However, all the ordained, not just the married ordained, should be “proven” or “tested” before ordination. To raise this ambiguous phrase exclusively in the discussion of ordaining married men, either to the diaconate or the presbyterate in the Latin Church, is potentially distracting from more serious issues.
The standard should be the same for married and celibate men, in terms of formation and education, character and ability. It is unethical and unnecessary to set a higher bar for married clergy than for celibate clergy – or for that matter, to set a higher age limit.
Who is “proven”? This phrase floats around with virtually no formal definition or context. If the practice of the diaconate is any indication, many bishops seem to think that it means retired volunteers without formal ministry formation or experience. That the “proof” is in a life of being a happily married faithful Catholic in a secular vocation. This is good, but it is insufficient, and better “proof” of being an active lay person in the Church than an ordained minister.
If we are to turn to “proven men” we must think of the same people that the Council Fathers thought of as “already exercising diaconal ministry” (AG 16) as the first candidates for ordination to the diaconate. We ought to consider those men “already exercising presbyteral ministry” as candidates for the presbyterate.
Look first to the lay ecclesial ministers, catechists, chaplains, pastoral workers, lay theologians who have committed their lives in service to the Church, whose vocation is already clearly ecclesial, rather than secular. They have already given years to the education, formation, and experience we want in our priests and deacons. Most often, they have done so at considerable expense and sacrifice to themselves and their families – usually, tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth, compared to “traditional” seminarians, who have been sponsored by the diocese throughout formation. These are your “proven men”.
What of the effect on the diaconate?
Because of the accidents of history and the slow, and often piecemeal, approach to reform and development in the Church, there can be no doubt that several men called to be presbyters have been ordained deacons because, and often for no other reason than, they are married. Similarly, there are men in the presbyterate who really ought to be deacons, but as celibates, were pressured into the presbyterate.
I have long been convinced that we need more married presbyters and more celibate deacons. It is an error to believe that celibacy defines the presbyterate or marriage the diaconate. In their ancient roots, if anything, the reverse was more likely to be true. One’s vocation to ministry, and one’s vocation to relationship, are two distinct questions.
Whenever discussion turns to the topic of restoring the discipline of a married clergy in the Latin Church, I envision disaster for the diaconate, if it is handled badly. We are only part-way through the process of restoring the diaconate as a proper order of ministry, full and equal to the presbyterate, of a lower “rank” than the bishop.
As long as we still have transitional deacons, and the question of women in the diaconate is unsettled, we have not yet completed this process. As long as people still define the diaconate more sociologically – as a band-aid solution for a lack of priests, as a retiree’s volunteer ministry, as the holding place for married clergy – rather than a vocation and ecclesiologically essential order in and of itself, we are still a work in progress on the diaconate. Simply waking up tomorrow to a a married presbyterate would lead to an exodus from one order to the other without the balance going the other way.
Though, perhaps this should be encouraged – a discernment of orders without the distraction of the celibacy/marriage dichotomy. Say, a ten year open period where anyone previously ordained to one order could ‘relocate’ to the other, if it fit more their calling.
This would necessitate making clear what belongs to the deacon as the first assistants to the bishop: the diocesan curia, the deaneries, the diplomatic and ecumenical work, responsibility for personnel and finance, assisting in the governance of the church. The presbyterate is primarily an advisory group to the bishop, the local church’s ‘council of elders’. In short, deacons extend the bishop’s ministry (diakonia), as the presbyter extends the bishop’s priesthood, as cultic leader and presider at Eucharist.
Related to this is the age of ordination. Canon law currently suggests that celibate candidates can be ordained at 25 while married candidates at 35 (CIC §1031). Recent discussion on raising the minimum age of presbyteral ordination to 27 have been entirely too modest. This double standard should end – a single, common minimum age for both orders and both states of life. All candidates, whether married or celibate, for deacon or priest, should be at least 35 years of age.
As a seminary professor in Rome for the last few years, and from several years of working on lay ecclesial and diaconal formation, I have come to know a variety of candidates for ministry. In my experience, there is really no such thing as a “late” vocation, but I have witnessed many premature ordinations.
Many of these prematurely ordained presbyters end up leaving, and/or doing great damage to the local church, not having been “proven” in any real way. This older minimum age would allow a testing period as lay ecclesial ministers, and/or in a secular vocation. I do not think anyone should be ordained who has not put in at least five years of pastoral ministry in some context. It would also allow for discernment between vocation to each order in its own right and on its own merit, questions of marriage/celibacy aside.
Isolated communities? Really?
It is not clear if this is a response to a question, or part of a larger comment. But it raises the spectre of a kind of ‘clericalism within clericalism’. What possible reason is there for restricting the ministry of married clergy other than an elitism of the celibates?
I can think of two good ones:
1) that more stable positions (such as parish pastor) would be a better fit to married clergy than more itinerant positions (such as missionary or diplomat) which might better suit a celibate. Many of the former are more presbyteral, as well, while the later tend to be diaconal, which is worth considering.
2) In those areas where persecution is a real threat – and here I think danger of a martyr’s death – there is perhaps more freedom in a celibate clergy. But this is not the case in many parts of the world.
Perhaps in some communities or cultures a transition period will be necessary. I remember meeting a Filipino priest here in Rome who had never heard of the Eastern Catholic Churches, and had no idea there were married Catholic priests anywhere in the communion. He assumed all such were Anglican or Protestant. Or an American who was shocked at seeing her parish deacon, still vested, give his wife a chaste kiss after mass. These things have to be normalized, with charity and intentionality. That can take a little time, but not really that much.
There is no reason to suggest that married clergy would only be useful in “isolated communities” but it is not clear yet if that is entirely what the Holy Father said or meant. He could have meant that this is one obvious example of need – in many parts of the world the Eucharist is not a daily or weekly liturgy, but monthly or quarterly, for no other reason than a shortage of presbyters. In such ‘isolated communities’ more priests, married or celibate, would be a great service to the local church.
In most cases, there is no compelling reason to make such a distinction, between how and where a celibate or married priest might serve, and no burden or barrier should be placed without grave reason (cf. Acts 15:28).
Finally, two other possible considerations, as long as we are rethinking the discipline of our ordained ministers.
First, the Latin Church does not share the Eastern tradition of restricting the episcopate to the monastic (and therefore celibate) clergy. While there is wisdom in this discipline, there is also wisdom in the Western tradition of married bishops, who are called from, and in service to, the diocesan churches. Perhaps that is for later consideration, but we must face these questions with a full awareness of our own tradition.
Second, since Nicaea, the Catholic/Orthodox Church has allowed ordination of married men but not marriage of ordained men. Yet there are apostolic churches that allowed marriage after ordination (e.g., The Assyrian Church of the East). This is also the almost universal practice of the other churches and ecclesial communities of the Western tradition.
At the time this disciplinary compromise was reached, the normal age for marriage was as early as 12-14. Ordination might come a decade later, and life expectancy for those who had lived long enough to get married was about 45. It was obvious that questions of marriage would be settled before questions of ministry.
Today, the reverse is true. In many contemporary cultures, one is expected to have completed education and established a career before entering into marriage. Following the logic that gave us the ancient discipline, it would almost make more sense today to forbid marriage before ordination! At least, we should reconsider this ancient discipline in light of the same sociological factors that inspired it.
All of these questions need to be considered for their ecumenical impact, too, and the wisdom of experience from both East and West should be part of our discernment in revisiting these ancient disciplinary questions.
If nothing else, we can be grateful for a bishop of Rome willing to entertain the question, no matter the result.