Enlightenment from the East

THE escalating chorus of voices calling for the ordination of married men as Catholic priests is missing one verse: Many married Catholic priests are already among us.

Catholic churches in the East, the birthplace of Christianity, have always had married clergy.

For example, Maronite Catholics from Lebanon, one of the Eastern Catholic Churches, have had an unbroken communion with Rome, yet about half their priests are married.

There is no evidence that their holiness or sanctity is compromised by their matrimonial and paternal role.

My uncle was a married Catholic priest with four children, and enjoyed enormous respect for his accessibility and spirituality.

My three children attend a Catholic school where some of their parish priests are married men.

Anecdotes abound about good examples of married priests. The real irony is not that they already thrive within the Catholic Church, but that the arguments against such ordination echo the arguments for celibacy a millennium ago.

Today, we hear the voices of establishment endeavouring to trivialise the calls for a rethink with condescending conclusions such as: They regard the priestly vocation more as a right than as a gift from God; they want the priesthood to be modelled on their own selfish image rather than that of the celibate Christ; they are petitioning bishops rather than petitioning Christ through prayer.

They are from the Flower Power generation, who were anti-tradition and ordained in the '60s and '70s. They want to solve a "temporary staffing problem in one part of the world" by overturning important traditions.

These "holier than thou" dismissals are fraught with contradictions.

The life of Jesus is replete with critiques of the religious establishment of the day.

He preached about living the faith through acceptance, forgiveness and love, rather than strict adherence to the letter of the law.

For the first millennium, married priests were commonplace.

In 1074, Pope Gregory VII announced that anyone to be ordained must first pledge celibacy, as ordination marked the end of married life together – "priests (must) first escape from the clutches of their wives".

This was enshrined during the First Lateran Council in 1123, when Pope Calistus II decreed that clerical marriages were invalid.

Were those decisions not a reflection and reaction to a different "staffing problem in one part of the world"?

Rome was understandably concerned about illegitimate children tainting the priesthood and children of married priests inheriting church property. These may have been legitimate crises for the Catholic Church in Europe at that time, not to be trivialised as a knee-jerk reaction of a generation as it is now.

Perhaps rather than attacking the petitioners, church leaders could mount arguments that go to the core of the real crisis.

The decreasing number of priests cannot be separated from the decreasing number of parishioners, the pool from whom the priests are called.

Celibacy per se may not be the core problem, as married men could become Catholic deacons and serve the church, if this was the stumbling block.

While spiritual arguments related to modelling the celibate Christ and the congregation becoming one's family are central, there are also pragmatic imperatives involved which need to be highlighted.

Married priests have moral responsibilities to be on call as a good spouse and parent. They need to provide a roof, education, clothes, food and transport not only for themselves but for their family. If this becomes a burden on the church, it is easy to see why celibate priests may be preferred.

This situation has been redressed in some churches by imposing pre-requisites on the married applicant with a minimum age, secure employment, secure accommodation – not dissimilar to immigration applicants.

Celibate priests have traditionally been on call 24 hours a day. These "supermen" can be transferred to other parishes and countries without the complications that would beset a married priest.

Therefore, this begs a different question – would the parishes benefit by a pool of "part-time" priests to complement the supermen?

Perhaps the critics on both sides could look at growing Catholic parishes rather than play an implicit blame game.

Why are the callings to priesthood, both married and celibate, still growing in such places as Lebanon?

Some argue that places that are experiencing instability and war traditionally turn to spirituality for answers and security. That the more affluent a society, they more they play God rather than need God – "it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven".

However, this does not explain why my own parish masses often have standing room only as people flock to find meaning and answers.

Having young Australian-born priests who are connected to contemporary culture is certainly a bonus. And by young, I mean under 50, as most Catholic priests I have encountered are over 60.

It is this ability to relate to people that is a magnet and a gift, and probably the way forward.

Even Jesus chose a wide cross-section of people to be His ministers to the four corners of the world. If married priests can provide hope as both small f and capital F fathers, then we should learn from the East, where it all began.

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