Last week I was at the funeral for the father of a dear
family friend. Because my friend is a priest, about 25
priests were in attendance at the Mass. After the reception,
8-year-old Jacob, 5-year-old Liam and I approached our
friend to say goodbye and offer our final condolences.
Another priest happened to be standing nearby, and he
greeted my sons warmly, asking them where they went to
school (they were in their tell-tale Catholic school uniform
of navy pants and light blue shirts.) As this priest shook
my sons’ hands, he smiled and said, “We have
two future priests here, don’t we?” He chuckled,
looked at me and added that he and my friend were getting
older, wouldn’t be around forever, and would someday
need replacements.
And my hands, which up to that point had been resting
lightly on the shoulders of each of my sons, tightened
on their own accord. While I smiled back and nodded slightly,
“no,” was the only word in my mind.
No. You cannot have my sons.
I am not proud of my reaction. But it was honest and true,
and I suspect that I am not alone. Another priest friend
of mine once explained the current priest shortage this
way: “Mothers are not giving their sons to the church
anymore.” He said in years past, when Catholic families
had six or eight children, parents were more likely to
encourage one of the boys to enter the priesthood. Now,
with fewer children in a family, parents (and mothers
in particular) are reluctant to “lose” a son
to the priesthood.
As I drove home, I thought over my reaction to the priest’s
gentle suggestion that my own boys could become priests
someday. It bothered me that my immediate response was
a negative one. I am a lifelong Catholic and consider
myself very active in the church. Why would I not want
my sons to be priests? I had priests to thank for much
of my own spiritual development. The poetry, music and
homilies of Jesuit Fr. Bob Purcell at Marquette University
sent me looking for God in all things as a young adult.
Fr. Jack Kern’s commitment to care for the poor
and oppressed and his Jesus-like countenance were a source
of weekly inspiration to my husband and me when we were
newlyweds at SS. Peter and Paul Parish. And a succession
of Fr. Bryan Massingale’s powerful “live the
Gospel, don’t just talk about it” homilies
actually spurred us on to become foster parents. Why would
I not want my sons to become priests like these men?
Part of it is simply because there are fewer young men
choosing the priesthood these days. In the past, the potential
loneliness of being a priest was mitigated by larger numbers
that gave priests a sense of community or brotherhood.
What also distresses me as I consider the question of
either Jacob or Liam becoming a priest is the fact that
my church is eager to receive my sons as priests, but
shows little interest in having my daughter fill that
role. I have four women friends who would make incredible
priests. It troubles me that the church will look past
these women, as well as equally well-qualified married
men, in order to maintain the tradition of celibate males
leading the flock.
And the recent scandals only add to my hesitation. While
great strides have been made in the past two years in
righting the wrongs of the past, the church is still in
its infancy in learning to take responsibility for its
institutional sins.
And yet, amid all these problems, there is so much I love
about the Catholic Church that I understand why young
men respond to the call of the priesthood. Each time I
receive Eucharist, join hands at the Our Father or am
moved into action by a homily, I realize I am one of the
many beneficiaries of one person’s decision to respond
positively to the challenging call of the priesthood.
And even as some of the church’s mistakes get in
the way of what I’d like the church to be, I recognize
that it is a human organization, made up of human beings
who are striving — however imperfectly — to
follow Jesus. I recognize that it has been the church’s
priests and bishops, along with lay leaders, who have
historically brought about change in the church, and who
will continue to do so in the future. Eight years into
parenting, I have learned enough to know that God’s
plan for my sons may be very different than my own. My
most important task as a mother is not to tell my sons
what to do, but to teach them how to listen for the whisper
of the Spirit, so that they might know where they are
being led.
Liam told me the other day that when he grows up, he wants
to be a builder because, in his words, “I want to
love people and take care of them and make sure they have
a place to live.”
And in the end, if Liam takes this philosophy into his
career or vocation, that will be enough for me. The Catholic
Church needs good builders (and re-builders), too.
(Scobey-Polacheck and her husband Bill have two
sons, Jacob and Liam, and a foster daughter, Teenasia.
They belong to SS. Peter and Paul and St. Monica parishes.
Scobey-Polacheck welcomes dialog regarding her column.
E-mail her at <ascobey@hotmail.com>.) |
