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Symbols of Priesthood and Forgiveness:
An Open Letter to Priests

Rev. Victor Clore

When I was newly ordained, my first pastoral conference over a crisis of faith was with a young man, exactly my age. Both of us were raised Catholic, but our lives were taking different shapes. I had just begun a life-long symbolic relationship to God and Church, dedicated to sacred space, time and service. My palms were still slick with the consecrating Chrism, and I could still feel the linen strips binding my hands to keep them from touching anything profane.

He, on the other hand, had just skipped Sunday Mass for the first time. He went to the beach instead. It was now a month since he began breaking the Taboo. Amazingly, he had not been struck by lightning. He was awed that he still had life, health, job and drinking buddies. Some of them were also breaking the Taboo; others had not yet summoned the courage to do so. (All his drinking buddies were Catholic - this was 1966.)

This story of two men illustrates both the power and the frailty of religious symbols. Symbols inspire a depth of meaning and motivation that cannot be contained in all the books in the world. They can make you choose a life of giving rather than gaining, of celibacy rather than sexual intimacy. But symbols cannot say anything on their own. They get their meaning from us who use them, when we soak them in our values, habits, hopes and desires; and when we live them with other people.

When symbols lose their meaning, they become like family heirlooms - beautiful, once useful, but now fragile. Like a china pitcher, they can be broken. We may glue them back together, but they no longer hold wine or water. It is always sad when this happens; life without symbols is not human. Sometimes we can invest symbols with new meaning. But if the people have no use for a precious symbol, we need to find a new one. The young man who talked with me 36 years ago was confronting himself, and me, with this dilemma.

The sex abuse scandal is challenging our religious symbols today. Can we breathe new meaning into the symbols of holiness, ministry, leadership and forgiveness? Do symbols like prophet, priest and king mean anything? How is the priest a mediator? Should he be? How is the bishop an overseer? What is the bond between bishops and priests? How does the Church reconcile sin and sinners? Are there better symbols that we could choose? We may think of Sacraments (as Martos does), as Doors to the Sacred. A priest tends the doorway. A priest may be facilitator, organizer, midwife. Some of our symbols are strong and hardy, but others are gasping for breath. Some we should bury. The sex abuse scandal has cracked many of our symbols. I do not believe that we can return to the way things were, even armed with superglue.

The priest: mediator?

I grew up with the symbol of mediator. For me, it means being up close and personal, both to God and to people. I think of a mediator in a labor negotiation – someone who knows the concerns of both parties intimately, without prejudice toward either, and who is committed to a result that will be in the best interest of all. There is a problem with mediator, however. Getting close to God can become an effort to be more holy than other people. Most of us admit we are not holy supermen, but we keep up appearances to inspire people. Another problem with being close to God is that it can confer social privilege. Privilege leads to arrogance. Both of these flaws are involved in our scandal. Abusive priests gained access to young hearts under the guise of being close to God, and initiating them to a kind of privilege. People are scandalized because the abuser was someone "next to God." Symbols like holy superman and social privilege create pedestals for "holy" people to stand on. They do more harm than good. We should discard them.

We do not, however, get down off pedestals by self-pity. Victim is a priestly symbol, and it seems opposite to superman and privilege. It is never healthy to identify as a victim, however, so I do not think it is a good image for a priest. Jesus is the victim once and for all. The first step off a pedestal is to recognize that it is merely a prop. We can freely step off, rather than be bludgeoned off like a victim. The faithful will be happy to give us a hand.

Even though symbols like superman, privilege, and victim are counterproductive, many people still support them because they seem to signify holiness. Getting close to God is critical to church leadership. The challenge is getting close to God without getting swelled heads. How should we symbolize holiness? St. John uses the symbol of shepherd, but some people do not like being sheep. We might become a beacon on a lighthouse. But a lighthouse is fixed on a pedestal. A better symbol might be a searchlight, shining the light of truth into the dark corners of our own lives (see Ray Dlugos, Southdown Institute Newsletter, March, 2002).

Holiness is self-examination, taking daily inventory of my values and motivations in the light of truth. How do I organize my work and time? How do I spend my money and free time? How much do I eat; how much do I drink? How do I treat coworkers and parishioners? How do I pray? How do I manage my personal relations, affections and sexual integrity? Where is the laziness and lust and addiction in my life? Holiness gives me courage to look at my life clearly, and to step forward, day by day, toward a little more integrity, despite my sinful life.

Jesus got close to God, paradoxically, by getting close to human suffering (see Abp. John Quinn, America, July 1-8, 2002). If we are alert, we can get close to suffering everywhere; in young and old, in runaways, addicted and sexually abused, in immigrants and the unemployed. We offer up prayers with loud cries and tears (Heb. 5:7-10). Then, with the power of Christ’s priesthood, we reach out and raise them up from death. In other words, from conviction born of holiness, we become credible advocates to demolish systems of abuse - even abuse done by priests. Rather than privileged, faultless persons, we are called to be companions and advocates.

Catholics are looking for new meaning in the priesthood, and the current scandal is raising the stakes (see Beaudoin, America, June 3-10, 2002). I have just suggested that one symbol of priest is authentic advocate to the poor; but each model of church calls for a different symbol of priest. In any case, every symbol of priest must be grounded in people’s experience, because symbols of priesthood are not just for priests. They are for everyone, baptized and ordained. If Christians are advocates for the poor, priests are advocates for the advocates. The crucial factor is to invest our lives in meaningful symbols as tenaciously as Jesus did when he proclaimed the Reign of God. But we also need the courage of Paul, to sacrifice a symbol if it no longer speaks to our brothers and sisters (Romans 9:3). Priests can offer sacrifice.

The bishops as overseers of the Church

What about the bishops, and their priestly role? People who have talked to me are highly scandalized by the bishops’ lack of responsibility to guide and protect the Church. They called themselves protecting the Church, but they were protecting only its good name and financial stature, when they should have been protecting its young people.

The bishops are redressing this failure by the Charter. A charter is a formal pledge of trust, a public covenant, stating what we believe, and what we will do. It is not just another Church document. But this Charter has flaws. Those who have been sinned against feel that it skirts the root of the problem. On the other hand, many feel that it is a reaction of fear and anger, bluntly targeting priests as scapegoats. It appears, once again, to be an instrument designed principally to protect the image and finances of the institution.

A parishioner said to me recently that the bishops need to make another charter - with the adults of the Church, treating them as adults. I agree. That includes bringing them into responsible partnership in their ministry of stewardship. Every bishop in the country has said "transparency" so often lately you would think they learned it in the seminary. Even the Vatican and the pope himself have said it. The word must gag in some throats, but they have said it. Now that it is in the public record, the laity can keep reminding them that they said it.

Partnership in Stewardship, however, is not merely tapping lay expertise to do the bishops’ bidding. That will not automatically guarantee transparency and Gospel values. For example, there are reports of bishops, through their lawyers, insulting complainants and hiding behind legal ploys. There are too many such reports, from all over the country, not to see a pattern. The Church has a right to defend itself, but refusal to accept responsibility does not serve the church, and it alienates the faithful even more (see Mark Sargent, Commonweal, June 14, 2002). Intimidation in the name of legal defense is simply sinful. The General Secretary of the Conference of Catholic Bishops recently addressed the Association of Diocesan Attorneys (Origins Vol. 32: No. 1, pp 1-5). His words did not allay my fear. He seemed to blame the media, and he pampered the lawyers for their efforts. Their efforts are too often not symbols of Christ’s compassion. I am humiliated by this kind of defense of our Church.

Whenever the subject of lay participation in stewardship comes up, the bishops’ mantra is: the Church is not a democracy. We hear you. But neither is it a monarchy. Christ’s Faithful are educated, and professionally skilled, not only in finance and management, but also in Scripture and theology. They are ready, willing and competent to help mold a new model of Church leadership; leadership that is based on the Gospel, that is unique, unlike any secular institution, neither autocratic nor democratic. As long as bishops keep a closed management style, they are like the paterfamilias serving portions to the children (on broken china, no less). People are leaving the table. I think we need new symbols of Church leadership.

The priest-bishop bond

We did not use the symbol priest-bishop bond when I was ordained, but we have always known that our priesthood comes from Christ, through the bishop. Even though delegated, the ordination we share with him is quite formidable on its own: to be with people at every major turning point in their lives, from birth to death, and on every Sunday in between. We make the Death and Resurrection of Christ real for people at all those critical times. It is what we live for.

The notion of a pastoral bond uniting bishops, priests and deacons is from Vatican Council II, calling for a more conscious relationship and collaborative ministry with the local bishop. Does the priest-bishop bond really exist? In my experience, the bishops who wrote this ideal into the Council tried to implement it. Since then, however, it is quite erratic. Bishops invoke it when it suits them, and abusing priests blasphemed it.

The Charter’s searing heat destroyed any semblance of a priest-bishop bond. In the face of the scandal, some bishops even tried to disengage themselves from legal responsibility by claiming that priests are independent agents. Practically speaking, in our day-to-day ministry, we have been independent pastors all along. The priest-bishop bond is still wet from the wheel, but it has cracked in the kiln. We have to start from scratch. Maybe it was never meant to be. Maybe we need a whole new symbol of collaborative ministry – one that includes the faithful.

Reconciling sin and sinners

Forgiveness is central to the life and death of Christ. Conversion, repentance, forgiveness and healing are central to the Catholic Church. The sex abuse scandal cries out for reconciliation. What about priests who have a credible accusation of abuse? They may be guilty of sin, but not all are guilty of crime. Not all are guilty of the same things, nor to the same degree. Some are pedophiles and predators, but most are not. There may be evidence that a man made mistakes; that his sexual development was stunted (partly due to a naïve seminary system); that he got sucked into a counter-transference attraction; or that the sexual revolution clouded his judgment. If he has not betrayed personal boundaries for years, however, it is wrong to suspend him permanently, to the limbo of "a life of penance." It opposes our theology of the priesthood, it is inhumane and a breach of Communion. It cannot be the will of Christ. I agree with Bishop Hubbard that each priest must be judged individually.

I do not advocate minimizing any man’s crime, nor shielding him from accountability, nor circumventing the legal system. Nor do I suggest reinstating priests who have systematically preyed on many victims. Nor should we indiscriminately accept rationalizations by priests that they did no harm (see "One Boy’s Story" in Commonweal, June 1, 2002). We got into this mess, however, by ignoring criminal aspects in favor of outdated morality and naïve psychology. Now we are ignoring ethical and sacramental realities in favor of legal ones. Paul warned that human courts are inadequate to judge matters of the Body of Christ (I Cor. 6:1-8). We need to address ethical and moral failure with Reconciliation as well as legal punishment. Catholics know the power of sacramental forgiveness - through the priesthood.

One irony recently is Pope John Paul’s Motu Proprio Misericordia Dei, published on April 7, 2002 (Origins Vol. 32: No. 1. pp. 13-16). This decree reinforces the Tridentine symbols of the Sacrament of Forgiveness, especially individual, auricular confession. Misericordia Dei got scant mention; it had to compete with each day’s reports, in lurid detail, of yet another priest’s abuse. With all due respect, rehashing the teaching of Trent on the Sacrament of Penance looks like gluing broken pottery, and the timing of its publication makes it seem like straining gnats. But it may be relevant after all - for priests and bishops as penitents. Priests find it hard, as supermen, to look a person in the eye and say, "I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?" We find it easier to proclaim general confessions from a pedestal.

I applaud the bishops for listening to abused Catholics in Dallas, but the Charter is a general confession. The bishops and offenders still need to confess, in species and in number, despite their lawyers’ advice. What if bishops, with the offending priests, were to meet with each man or woman who has been abused? It would be the best way for sinners to make their confession, and to ask for forgiveness. This would be painful, for all concerned; but up-close and personal healing is precisely what the Sacrament of Reconciliation is meant to accomplish. What is more, such a witness would be far more convincing than a month of Sundays preaching about Misericordia Dei.

I propose that priests who have abused minors be challenged to rehabilitation, as alcoholic priests are. Thirty years ago it was a scandal for a priest to admit that he was an alcoholic. But after treatment, with a commitment to the Twelve Steps, many of these priests live productive lives. Part of rehabilitation is to face those you have hurt. Catholics have the added power of the Sacrament, as I suggest above. Probably not all priests will be able to make a genuine conversion, undergo effective therapy, join a support group, and be transparent about his past. But certainly some can. For those who do, there should be no further barrier to his being reassigned to a properly supervised ministry. He is a priest forever. The person he offended may find it difficult to let go of the hurt; but the Sacrament is also intended to heal personal injury and transcend the desire for revenge. In itself, a victim’s lingering wound is not ground to ban a priest for life. Christ says, through our priestly ministry, "Go and sin no more."

In conclusion, I do not know if the now-aging man who talked with me 36 years ago is going to Mass on Sunday. If he is, it is not because he is afraid of lightening. It is because he personally benefits from participating in communal worship in the parish near his home. Truthfully, many people do not – especially the working class, the young, and immigrants. Our responsibility as priests is to facilitate engaging, meaningful sacraments. Sometimes this will mean breathing new meaning into time-tested symbols. Sometimes it means molding new ones. Meaningful symbols are molded from earthy experience and glazed in the oven – in this case, the heat of sorrow and embarrassment. I think our Church will be healed of its abuses only through sacramental symbols that are made durable and useful by faith in Christ’s Peace, hope in God’s Reign, and the Divine charity that transforms every love and affection in our hearts.

I put these thoughts on paper so that I can go on with my own daily ministry with a bit of self-respect. I hope we in Holy Orders will demonstrate that our priority is the sacramental and evangelical work of the Church, not just legal and financial concerns. I look for the day when we will discover a truly collaborative ministry; I do not like being an independent operator. And finally, this tragic affair may even be an occasion for victims, flagrant sinners, and Catholics at large to experience the Sacrament of Reconciliation in a new, meaningful and effective way.

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