From a Priest: The Crisis in Catholic Leadership: Bad Fathers

I receive a lot of messages from clergy & speak to a lot of priests, not just from my own diocese, but from all over the world. Most feel unable to speak publicly about the situation in the Church, although they are extremely worried. I received this message below, which, I felt, summed up so much of what is currently going on from a priest's perspective. I thought it was well worth sharing, which I do here with permission:

Laying aside the perfect prototype of our Heavenly Father, none of us men have perfect earthly or biological fathers, but we are usually blessed to have imperfect fathers. When we are young, we might imagine our fathers to be perfect, but as sons grow older, the tendency is for these youth to be in training for fatherhood themselves, and teenage boys start to notice more the weaknesses of their fathers. It isn’t that these weaknesses are legion, but only that boys are starting to become men, slowly, and often these lads think that they are ready to be men long before they really are. 

As young men mature further, hopefully they start to see that while it is easy to critique, it can be far more difficult be the men they had hope to be. This is an important point of maturation. Some guys get stuck here, and never fully grow up. They blame their fathers, but do not grow themselves. But when men can start to admit that they too are flawed and imperfect adults, even as they strive to live for others a model of virtue, then they might start to look back with some envy at the manly success that their own fathers achieved. 

The Catholic priesthood is a spiritual fatherhood. While priests are celibate, they are nevertheless called father by total strangers. And as part of the hierarchy, priests (and all the faithful) have spiritual fathers themselves, who we call bishops. And above the bishops, at least in theory, is the pope (a word that means papa). He is the holy father in Rome. Our tendency, as mature men and as priests, is to have some sympathy with our bishops and our superiors. We might think we see how to do things better, but most of us really don’t want their job. So, we demonstrate filial respect and love for these imperfect men, and we want them to succeed. We pray for them. We forgive them. We look past their character flaws. And we thank God for them. And sometimes we can be amazed what the Lord accomplishes through them. This is not to say that we could not critique them. Some bishops are better than others. Some are too political and ambitious. Others don’t want to make difficult choices, so they leave us to guess what they are thinking. Some are gracious whereas others can be capricious. We can only guess why. Certainly, all bishops are sinners, and sin wounds us all. We carry on with fatherhood (spiritual and otherwise) because it is essential, and we pray that the wounds of sin are not too grave so as to cripple us. Bishops’ (and priests’) sins can cause so much harm. We presume the best about people, unless proven otherwise, we forgive and we get on with things. Bishops come and go, and priests need to understand that reality and carry on with our tasks. 

In a sense, priests are captains, not generals, and our job is to trust our superiors who, we pray, have a vantage point that we don’t, and who have a sound strategy. But morale in the priesthood, and even among the rank-and-file, is affected by leadership. Bad generals making serially bad decisions can begin to breakdown trust. An army without unity is an imperilled one. We also like to think we’re all on the same page. There is a tradition that we have all inherited, that we all know, and that we have all been trained in, and we look for those who are our leaders to hold fast to that, so that we can be disciplined and successful. When the higher-ups change the rules of engagement without letting us know, and then mock others for trusting our training, then that can be demoralising. 

It is clear some leaders are more motivated towards popularity, so they find it hard to make choices, so they will be at best ambiguous. They leave the men under them to hold a line that they have themselves ceased to hold. This is a serious weakness. As a priest, I am a sinner. I need encouragement from my fathers, like anyone else. I also need clarity. I am a man. I can handle moral clarity. Frankly, I long for it. I am all too willing to give myself a pass. I don’t need passes. I need instruction and discipline and (frankly) love. An undisciplined son is an unloved son. A lot of us are feeling a bit orphaned these days. 

We need discipline. This is not asking for punishment, but for clarity of doctrine. We need a disciplined presentation of the doctrine. And we need fathers who will demonstrate discipline themselves. Is there a discernible clarity of thought that is in line with the Gospel? Do our higher-ups cover up for their friends and advance less than virtuous men? Please, don’t leave the world in doubt. Catholics are willing to forgive. And priests want to love honour and respect our bishops and our pope. But as a group, the Catholic people in our pews are not blind. They may be patient. They may be gentle. But they see what is happening. And they know that there will be fallout.