29/04/02
April 29, 2002
Viewpoint
'Celibacy has lost its authenticity'
After 30 years as a priest, Oliver McTernan has decided to return to secular life. Here he explains why
When I came to Harvard two years ago I had two goals in mind. The first was to spend time researching the causes of religiously motivated violence. The second was to take time away from the active ministry to reflect, in a totally secular setting, upon my own future. The results of my research will be published next year, and I hope that these will attract as much media interest as my personal decision to continue to live and work in a non-clerical environment. The decision not to return to an active ministry within the Roman Catholic Church was extremely difficult for me, as my 30 years as a priest in inner London have been a humanly rich and spiritually rewarding experience. As a priest, however, you are not a lone operator. In theological language you belong to a sacramental order, a corporate body that shares a common goal and vision to promote gospel values of love, justice and peace. When I was ordained in 1972 the spirit and ideals of priesthood articulated by the Second Vatican Council were beginning to filter through to the parish level. There was a great sense of renewal, especially among older priests, many of whom were excited about abandoning their old style of parish governance in favour of greater lay participation. In those early years I felt strongly supported and encouraged by the example and friendship of my fellow priests. A few years ago, though, I detected a sea change in attitude among many of the newly ordained, who seemed to be more interested in reviving a the old clerical style of leadership than promoting the reforms endorsed by the Vatican Council. In the milieu of revived clericalism I found myself becoming more uncomfortable and isolated. To understand what clericalism means one has only to look at the public trauma that the Catholic Church in the US is currently undergoing. The autocratic and secret way in which bishops have dealt with sex-abuse crimes illustrates the clerical obsession with external image. The bishops thought that by hiding the human defects of these troubled men they were rightly safeguarding the public reputation and collective image of the Catholic priesthood. The culture of denial is so ingrained in the clerical mindset that it incapacitates debate on so many issues that are crucial to the spiritual well being and vitality of parish communities. The style of management in vogue at present feels threatened by any meaningful discussion on the role of women in ministry, ecumenicism, inter-church communion, married priests, celibacy, marriage and divorce, homosexuality, and financial accountability. It is impossible for anyone who holds an official position in the Church even to suggest that these issues need to be aired without running the risk of being marginalised. In Rome last week the American Cardinals rightly denied any intrinsic link between obligatory celibacy and paedophilia. There is, though, a connection between celibacy and why the authoritarian behaviour of some Catholic clergy often goes unchallenged by their communities. Celibacy presumes a holiness and single-mindedness that puts the priest on another level and beyond human accountability. Even when a priest strives through regular prayer to live up to this high ideal there is a real danger that he seeks compensation for the lack of human intimacy by accumulating material comforts or abusing the enormous authority he enjoys within his community. In the 4th century, when Christianity became closely aligned with the State, individuals saw celibacy as an alternative to martyrdom as they took to the desert in search of more radical way of witnessing to their faith. For them, celibacy, poverty and vulnerability were inseparable. Today I suspect that the Catholic priesthood is the only middle-class profession that still assures its members economic security for life. Celibacy in these circumstances, for me at least, has lost its authenticity, and this is one of the contributing factors behind my decision. Over the years I have come to recognise in the lives of numerous married friends that marriage calls for even greater commitment and self-giving than celibacy. Whether I choose to exercise that basic human right to marry in the future is a decision that I consider personal, and that should be respected as such. I am acutely aware that my decision to give up my clerical status may distress some who would prefer to see me remain within the ranks of the clergy and to continue to work for reform. I admire and respect those priests who have made this option, but the cost for me, I fear, would be my own spiritual and psychological wellbeing. My decision to move on is rooted in the strong faith and conviction that the promotion of the gospel values of love, justice and peace will always remain a priority in my life.
April 29, 2002
Viewpoint
'Celibacy has lost its authenticity'
After 30 years as a priest, Oliver McTernan has decided to return to secular life. Here he explains why
When I came to Harvard two years ago I had two goals in mind. The first was to spend time researching the causes of religiously motivated violence. The second was to take time away from the active ministry to reflect, in a totally secular setting, upon my own future. The results of my research will be published next year, and I hope that these will attract as much media interest as my personal decision to continue to live and work in a non-clerical environment. The decision not to return to an active ministry within the Roman Catholic Church was extremely difficult for me, as my 30 years as a priest in inner London have been a humanly rich and spiritually rewarding experience. As a priest, however, you are not a lone operator. In theological language you belong to a sacramental order, a corporate body that shares a common goal and vision to promote gospel values of love, justice and peace. When I was ordained in 1972 the spirit and ideals of priesthood articulated by the Second Vatican Council were beginning to filter through to the parish level. There was a great sense of renewal, especially among older priests, many of whom were excited about abandoning their old style of parish governance in favour of greater lay participation. In those early years I felt strongly supported and encouraged by the example and friendship of my fellow priests. A few years ago, though, I detected a sea change in attitude among many of the newly ordained, who seemed to be more interested in reviving a the old clerical style of leadership than promoting the reforms endorsed by the Vatican Council. In the milieu of revived clericalism I found myself becoming more uncomfortable and isolated. To understand what clericalism means one has only to look at the public trauma that the Catholic Church in the US is currently undergoing. The autocratic and secret way in which bishops have dealt with sex-abuse crimes illustrates the clerical obsession with external image. The bishops thought that by hiding the human defects of these troubled men they were rightly safeguarding the public reputation and collective image of the Catholic priesthood. The culture of denial is so ingrained in the clerical mindset that it incapacitates debate on so many issues that are crucial to the spiritual well being and vitality of parish communities. The style of management in vogue at present feels threatened by any meaningful discussion on the role of women in ministry, ecumenicism, inter-church communion, married priests, celibacy, marriage and divorce, homosexuality, and financial accountability. It is impossible for anyone who holds an official position in the Church even to suggest that these issues need to be aired without running the risk of being marginalised. In Rome last week the American Cardinals rightly denied any intrinsic link between obligatory celibacy and paedophilia. There is, though, a connection between celibacy and why the authoritarian behaviour of some Catholic clergy often goes unchallenged by their communities. Celibacy presumes a holiness and single-mindedness that puts the priest on another level and beyond human accountability. Even when a priest strives through regular prayer to live up to this high ideal there is a real danger that he seeks compensation for the lack of human intimacy by accumulating material comforts or abusing the enormous authority he enjoys within his community. In the 4th century, when Christianity became closely aligned with the State, individuals saw celibacy as an alternative to martyrdom as they took to the desert in search of more radical way of witnessing to their faith. For them, celibacy, poverty and vulnerability were inseparable. Today I suspect that the Catholic priesthood is the only middle-class profession that still assures its members economic security for life. Celibacy in these circumstances, for me at least, has lost its authenticity, and this is one of the contributing factors behind my decision. Over the years I have come to recognise in the lives of numerous married friends that marriage calls for even greater commitment and self-giving than celibacy. Whether I choose to exercise that basic human right to marry in the future is a decision that I consider personal, and that should be respected as such. I am acutely aware that my decision to give up my clerical status may distress some who would prefer to see me remain within the ranks of the clergy and to continue to work for reform. I admire and respect those priests who have made this option, but the cost for me, I fear, would be my own spiritual and psychological wellbeing. My decision to move on is rooted in the strong faith and conviction that the promotion of the gospel values of love, justice and peace will always remain a priority in my life.