Let us return
to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. It often happens that we priests hear our
faithful telling us they have encountered a very “strict” priest in the
confessional, or very “generous”, i.e., a rigorist or a laxist. And this is not
good. It is normal that there be differences in the style of confessors, but
these differences cannot regard the essential, that is, sound moral doctrine
and mercy.
Neither the
laxist nor the rigorist bears witness to Jesus Christ, for neither the one nor
the other takes care of the person he encounters. The rigorist washes his hands
of them: in fact, he nails the person to the law, understood in a cold and
rigid way; and the laxist also washes his hands of them: he is only apparently
merciful, but in reality he does not take seriously the problems of that
conscience, by minimizing the sin.
True mercy
takes the person into one’s care, listens to him attentively, approaches the
situation with respect and truth, and accompanies him on the journey of
reconciliation. And this is demanding, yes, certainly. The truly merciful
priest behaves like the Good Samaritan... but why does he do it? Because his
heart is capable of having compassion, it is the heart of Christ!
We are well
aware that neither laxity nor rigorism foster holiness… Neither laxity nor
rigorism sanctify the priest, and they do not sanctify the faithful! However,
mercy accompanies the journey of holiness, it accompanies it and makes it
grow.... Too much work for a parish priest? It is true, too much work!
And how do we
accompany and foster the journey of holiness? Through pastoral suffering, which
is a form of mercy. What does pastoral suffering mean? It means suffering for
and with the person. And this is not easy! To suffer like a father and mother
suffer for their children; I venture to say, also with anxious concern....
Tell me: Do
you weep? Or have we lost our tears? I remember that in the old Missals, those
of another age, there is a most beautiful prayer to ask the gift of tears. The
prayer began like this: “Lord, who commanded Moses to strike the rock so that
water might gush forth, strike the stone of my heart so that tears…”: the
prayer went more or less like this. It was very beautiful.
But, how many of us
weep before the suffering of a child, before the breakup of a family, before so
many people who do not find the path?... The weeping of a priest.... Do you
weep? Or in this presbyterate have we lost all tears?
Pope
Francis, Address to the priests of the Diocese of Rome, March 6, 2014
Reflection – Well, I don’t know if this address by
Pope Francis is helpful to anyone else, but it sure is helping me, so I’m going
to keep blogging about it for a couple more days yet. Thank you for your
patience.
The laxist/rigorist dichotomy is one we
are all familiar with. As I said a couple days ago, I honestly have had very
few if any rigorist priests hear my confession over my 40 years as a Catholic
sinner (and I haven’t just done confession in Madonna House – I’ve been all
over! But laxism… yes, strictly from my first-hand experience this is the more
common fault of priests in North America in our day. And Pope Francis expertly
and succinctly shows what is wrong with both of these approaches—neither is
really merciful, neither really cares for the person. The rigorist crushes the
person under the yoke of the Law; the laxist, under a pretence of being ‘kind’,
fails utterly to engage the real spiritual illness of the person, their true
need for healing.
At any rate, the Pope is calling us
priests here to a very high and challenging level of mercy and generosity. I
don’t know if I can say much about this—his call to priests to weep for and
with their people. After all, to put it delicately, a good number of ‘my people’
read this blog – I will simply say that it is my heart’s desire to be precisely
the kind of priest the pope is describing, and that this reality of ‘pastoral
suffering’ as a means of growth in holiness is very real indeed, at the very
least a path that is open to any priest who is willing to enter it.
Meanwhile, we all know that priests on
the whole are a pretty human bunch of guys—neither the monstrous vampires of
anti-Catholic bigotry nor the paragons of virtue and holiness that a naïve faith
would imagine them to be. We’re just people, endowed in ourselves with the
strengths and weaknesses, folly and smarts that characterize humanity as a
whole. Of ourselves, nothing too special, yet for reasons of His own, endowed
by Christ with this sacred task and the sacred powers that go with it.
So, pray for your priests, eh? We’re on
the cusp of Holy Week here, and parishes the world over are stepping into high
gear. I just came back from a parish mission, and am very aware of just how busy
and hard-working my parochial confreres are. Pray for them and, if you can,
offer an encouraging word to them once in a while. Pray especially that true
mercy and compassion can reign in the hearts of all priests, and that the whole
Church can become the community of mercy and compassion it is meant to be.
Some people are surely touched by God and possessed of special gifts. Given the natures of those young men that aspire to be priests, I think they are less likely than most to possess such gifts, though some few undoubtedly do, at least upon some occasion. What special spiritual powers do you claim?
ReplyDeleteI believe in transubstantiation and that blessings from God can be invoked by one of pure and joyous faith. I don't think it happens often and many, maybe most, including priests, never manifest these gifts.
It's not a problem. Anyone, even the youngest child, infirm elder or prodigal, who approaches sacrament with a desire for authentic redemption and interaction with Christ, can fill all in that place and time with the spirit. Hallelujah!