Two years ago, I appeared on a television programme entitled Faith in Crisis.
I was joined on the panel by Fr Tony Flannery, a founding member of the self-styled Association of Catholic Priests in Ireland (ACP).
Last week, the Vatican banned Fr Flannery from contributing to the Redemptorist Order’s Reality magazine.
Before appearing on Faith in Crisis, I had not met Fr Flannery. In fact, it wasn’t until he accused me of suggesting that he didn’t celebrate the Eucharist correctly, that I realised he was a Catholic priest. This was because he neither spoke nor dressed as someone who wished to be identified as a member of the clergy.
Like most of the other participants on that programme, Fr Flannery chanted from a radical hymn book. His message was one of dissent from Rome on issues ranging from clerical celibacy to women priests. As he spoke, I remember being surprised that the Vatican permitted such flagrant opposition to Church doctrine by one of its priests.
I was, therefore, amused to hear that the ACP was ‘disturbed’ by Fr Flannery’s so-called ‘silencing’. ‘This intervention’, they say, ‘is unfair, unwarranted and unwise’ because, contrary to the claims of ‘some reactionary fringe groups’, the ACP is not ‘a small coterie of radical priests with a radical agenda’. Rather, it is ‘committed to putting into place the reforms of the Second Vatican Council’.
Studying the documents of Vatican II, I can see no evidence that the Council Fathers sought the ordination of women or the repudiation of priestly celibacy. When they spoke about ‘reform’ of the Church, they were not suggesting putting up for grabs the fundamentals of Catholic theology. Their objective was not, as the then Cardinal Ratzinger said in 1985, ‘to change the faith, but to represent it in a more effective way’.
It seems to me that the principal objective of groups like the ACP is to 'change the faith'. As Pope Benedict recently said of the ACP's Austrian counterpart, they have ‘issued a summons to disobedience’ – even to the point ‘of disregarding definitive decisions of the Church’s Magisterium’ or teaching authority. In so doing, they are not only dissenting from the traditions of the Church, but from their priestly vows.
No organisation can tolerate that level of dissent. This is especially so in the case of an institution whose origins are considered divine. For if you believe that the Church is the repository of timeless truth, and that those elected Pope are successors of St Peter, you will surely realise that changing the faith amounts to heresy. If, however, you don’t believe such things, why remain a member of the Catholic Church?
While not wishing to see a schism in the Irish Church, I simply can't understand why dissident priests continue in Catholic ministry. Why, in other words, would you stay a priest when you apparently have so little faith in your religious superiors? Why not have the courage of your convictions and join a congregation that more accurately reflects your theological beliefs?
The reason I have little sympathy for renegade priests brought to book by the Vatican, is because they knew what they were signing up for when they entered the seminary. They knew that becoming a priest demands taking a vow of obedience to the Pope and his bishops.
Before appearing on Faith in Crisis, I had not met Fr Flannery. In fact, it wasn’t until he accused me of suggesting that he didn’t celebrate the Eucharist correctly, that I realised he was a Catholic priest. This was because he neither spoke nor dressed as someone who wished to be identified as a member of the clergy.
Like most of the other participants on that programme, Fr Flannery chanted from a radical hymn book. His message was one of dissent from Rome on issues ranging from clerical celibacy to women priests. As he spoke, I remember being surprised that the Vatican permitted such flagrant opposition to Church doctrine by one of its priests.
I was, therefore, amused to hear that the ACP was ‘disturbed’ by Fr Flannery’s so-called ‘silencing’. ‘This intervention’, they say, ‘is unfair, unwarranted and unwise’ because, contrary to the claims of ‘some reactionary fringe groups’, the ACP is not ‘a small coterie of radical priests with a radical agenda’. Rather, it is ‘committed to putting into place the reforms of the Second Vatican Council’.
Studying the documents of Vatican II, I can see no evidence that the Council Fathers sought the ordination of women or the repudiation of priestly celibacy. When they spoke about ‘reform’ of the Church, they were not suggesting putting up for grabs the fundamentals of Catholic theology. Their objective was not, as the then Cardinal Ratzinger said in 1985, ‘to change the faith, but to represent it in a more effective way’.
It seems to me that the principal objective of groups like the ACP is to 'change the faith'. As Pope Benedict recently said of the ACP's Austrian counterpart, they have ‘issued a summons to disobedience’ – even to the point ‘of disregarding definitive decisions of the Church’s Magisterium’ or teaching authority. In so doing, they are not only dissenting from the traditions of the Church, but from their priestly vows.
No organisation can tolerate that level of dissent. This is especially so in the case of an institution whose origins are considered divine. For if you believe that the Church is the repository of timeless truth, and that those elected Pope are successors of St Peter, you will surely realise that changing the faith amounts to heresy. If, however, you don’t believe such things, why remain a member of the Catholic Church?
While not wishing to see a schism in the Irish Church, I simply can't understand why dissident priests continue in Catholic ministry. Why, in other words, would you stay a priest when you apparently have so little faith in your religious superiors? Why not have the courage of your convictions and join a congregation that more accurately reflects your theological beliefs?
The reason I have little sympathy for renegade priests brought to book by the Vatican, is because they knew what they were signing up for when they entered the seminary. They knew that becoming a priest demands taking a vow of obedience to the Pope and his bishops.
They also knew that no pontiff will arbitrarily tamper with the doctrinal patrimony of his predecessors.
Challenging the authority of the Pope is, therefore, an act of supreme hubris on the part of any priest. If anything, the priesthood is rooted in selfless service. It does not involve acquiring celebrity status by defying those whose authority you vowed to uphold.
A Catholic priest is not meant to be a counsellor in a collar. Neither is he supposed to use the pulpit to peddle political agendas. As the great Monsignor Gilbey of Cambridge wrote, a priest’s only job is to show that the ‘primary province for each of us is not the Third World, but our own hearts’, and that ‘the achievement of sanctity is the complete fulfilment of each man’s vocation’.
Above all, this requires holiness and humility. It means abandoning one’s ego in order to become ‘another Christ’. It means accepting, as one’s sole ambition, the role of a ‘humble worker in God’s vineyard’.
I am proud to say that I know many such priests. These men are loved by their parishioners, not because they seek to deflect blame for their own shortcomings by publicly challenging the Pope. No, they are loved simply because they pass their days quietly celebrating Mass, tending the sick, the dying and the hopeless.
In so many ways, these unsung clerics are the real future of the Catholic Church. For theirs is a vocation founded on fidelity, charity and true Christian piety. Through their dignified example, they remind us why so many priests can be counted among the Communion of Saints.
Put simply, when priests are in the business of saving souls, they don’t need to be ‘silenced’.
Challenging the authority of the Pope is, therefore, an act of supreme hubris on the part of any priest. If anything, the priesthood is rooted in selfless service. It does not involve acquiring celebrity status by defying those whose authority you vowed to uphold.
A Catholic priest is not meant to be a counsellor in a collar. Neither is he supposed to use the pulpit to peddle political agendas. As the great Monsignor Gilbey of Cambridge wrote, a priest’s only job is to show that the ‘primary province for each of us is not the Third World, but our own hearts’, and that ‘the achievement of sanctity is the complete fulfilment of each man’s vocation’.
Above all, this requires holiness and humility. It means abandoning one’s ego in order to become ‘another Christ’. It means accepting, as one’s sole ambition, the role of a ‘humble worker in God’s vineyard’.
I am proud to say that I know many such priests. These men are loved by their parishioners, not because they seek to deflect blame for their own shortcomings by publicly challenging the Pope. No, they are loved simply because they pass their days quietly celebrating Mass, tending the sick, the dying and the hopeless.
In so many ways, these unsung clerics are the real future of the Catholic Church. For theirs is a vocation founded on fidelity, charity and true Christian piety. Through their dignified example, they remind us why so many priests can be counted among the Communion of Saints.
Put simply, when priests are in the business of saving souls, they don’t need to be ‘silenced’.
Such is the righteous humility of one who sees that, from the moment of ordination, his voice is no longer his own.