Deacons and Roman collars part 2

Last week I posted on deacons and Roman collars. I posted a link to the post on a private Facebook group.

There were perhaps a few parts of my original article that were not clear. I also recognize that my position has roots in the clericalization found in the Honduran Catholic culture, as well as in some of my experiences in decades of lay ministry in the church in the US. (I do have to admit, though, that most of my experience with clergy was very positive and I saw little clericalism.)

Some of the responses to my blog help me clarify what my real concerns are. I am a bit more open to a limited use of the Roman collar by permanent deacons but my concerns about its use and the vehemence of some responses in defense of its use continue.

I was questioned several times whether ordination to the transitional and permanent diaconate were the same. I thought that would be obvious and so I didn’t mention it.

The post was not meant to castigate anyone but to raise what I think are serious questions about the ministry of permanent deacons.

But what struck me is that many of the responses focused on the question of the use of the Roman collar by deacons. My other concerns were only noted by a few commentators.

One person, a chaplain with a federal agency, explained why he wore the Roman collar. His reasoning struck me as sincere and really oriented to the role of the deacon.

At least one person spoke of the need to use the collar for safety in prison ministry. Another who worked for years in prison ministry has never worn the collar.

I think of my early years here in Honduras when I was a lay missionary. I often accompanied a Spanish Franciscan sister in the local prison. She, by the way, does not wear a habit and in now in her eighties – and still visits the prison, every week, I believe. I did not feel threatened. More recently I have been accompanying a US Franciscan sister with Alternatives to Violence workshops in another part of Honduras. I don’t feel threatened. My white skin (and my association with two sisters who regularly minister in prisons) are my “Roman collar.” I can understand the justification of the use of the Roman collar in limited circumstances in prison ministry, though I still have a few concerns.

At least one commentator did get one of my concerns.

I’m not exactly anti collar - I wear clerics in the prison for the reasons already mentioned. I see, however, a growing trend where the collar becomes for some a symbol of separation and status, whereby the ministry of the deacon tilts heavily toward the liturgical functions serving those inside the church and not the ministerial functions serving those on the margins.

Though clericalism wasn’t my main concern when I wrote the article, I am wondering whether it is a serious issue, at least a serious temptation. One stated that, “Clericalism is often a canard for those who are uncomfortable being clergy.”

Perhaps an extended discussion about clericalism is desperately needed – among priests and deacons. Pope Francis seems to think this is a problem.

I won’t refer to his writings at this point but to a book I read in February: Clericalism: The Death of the Priesthood, by Father George B. Wilson, S.J., published in 2008 by Liturgical Press. I will not try to summarize the book, which deserves a careful reading, but share some points that struck me.

This book, Clericalism, is a nuanced approach to the issue, recognizing that there are clerical cultures and that “clergyhood is essential to organizational development.” In his analysis, Fr. Wilson notes the presence of “clergy status” among doctors, lawyers, university professors, as well as ordained clergy.

But, the author notes, “Clergyhood brings genuine benefits- and harmful potential.”

He notes several seeds of clericalism:

·      “Clericalism grants automatic status.”

·      “Clergyhood’s embodiments: dress and address and perks”

·      “Strengths can become weaknesses”

·      “Clerics are sensitive to critique”

·      “Clerics focus on image”

·      “The power of arcane language.”

·      “Economic advancement confers status.”

·      “Clerics lose touch with those to be served.”

·      “Distinction turns into superiority.”

·      “Clericalism breeds secrecy and lack of accountability

·      “The name itself creates the power”

Fr. Wilson notes the relation between ordained priesthood and the priesthood of baptism, denying neither but trying to open a dialogue on their relationship.

“The priesthood of the ordained is real and not simply metaphorical. But it is meaningful only to the extent that it actually participates in and contributes to the life and holiness of the primary priesthood, the gathered faithful.”

I think this is one of the areas where we deacons need to examine in depth. Fr. Wilson writes of the exercise of priesthood by the community in this way.

“The Christian community priests when its members take on the mind and heart of Jesus; when they show forth singleness of purpose in their following of the risen Lord; when their daily lives are an expression of praise and gratitude—and joyous song—to the One Jesus called “Father”; when they identify compassionately with the broken and dispossessed of society; when they relate personally to others as peers, as brothers and sisters; and when they use the power of their voice to speak out and act for the rights of the voiceless.”

A question for us deacons is how we take on the mind and heart of Christ Jesus the Servant and how we animate the Servanthood of all the faithful. After all, in the words of Pope Paul VI, the deacon ought to be “the animator of the Church’s diaconia.” How do we do this – not just in the service of the Word or the service of Sacrament, but also in the service of Charity? And how are we present to the efforts of all the faithful to live a life of love and justice in the world, helping them see how they are and can be true servants of the Love of God – in the church and in the world, even in their daily occupations.

When I was a lay campus minister, I often tried to help students and other parishioners see that they live out their faith in their daily lives, not just in church activities. I believe that the permanent diaconate has the possibility to help make this real for more people.

Consider what it might mean for a campesino, an agricultural worker, a farmer seeing someone like himself at the Table of the Lord, knowing that he also serves at the Table of the poor, and also that he has a job like his where he serves the world and a family where he struggles with living the love of God.

I think that might be a challenge for us permanent deacons.

I write this post on the third anniversary of my diaconal ordination which is also the feast of Saint Bonaventure. When I was young I had a holy card with a quote from Bonaventure that still sustains me.

“Constant fidelity in little matters is a great and heroic virtue.”

Robert Ellsberg, in All Saints, shares an expanded version:

“The perfection of a religious [person] is to do common things in a perfect manner, and a constant fidelity in small matters is great and heroic virtue.”

I will reflect on this today as I celebrate the gift and challenge of being a deacon.

Ordination, 15 July 2016

Bringing communion to the sick, Debajiados, July16, 2016, with Juan Ángel (RIP)

Heling dig a sewage trench, Plan Grande, August 2016

Baptizing in Plan Grande, August 2016

Roman collars or muddy shoes

Deacons wearing collars

I am completely against deacons wearing Roman collars. If I am fortunate, my bishop will never ask me to wear one.

A recent discussion on a closed Facebook group yielded over 150 of comments, many of them in favor of wearing the Roman collar, many arguing its usefulness to distinguish deacons as clergy.

My first reaction was that this may be a symptom of a growing clericalism of the permanent diaconate. But this is not my major concern.

My second reaction was that wearing a collar can create distance between the deacon and the rest of the People of God. When the local bishop asked me to consider the diaconate I told him that I was concerned that this would create a wider breach between me and the people I serve.

As a layman from the US, a missionary in Honduras, I had privilege. I could leave whenever I want and return to the US. I had the financial security of social security monthly payments and a bank account. And there was more.

Would becoming a permanent deacon pull me further away from the poor in whose midst I serve.

But my real reason against the collar is theological. I think the theology of the diaconate is not sufficiently developed and so we fall back upon arguments of the deacon being a cleric and the usefulness of being recognized as one.

But I think we need to get back to the roots of the move toward the permanent diaconate.

After talking with the bishop, one of the first articles I read on the diaconate mentioned that priests in the Dachau concentration camp seriously studied the crisis in Nazi Germany and the failure of the church to recognize and respond to the emergent evil of the Third Reich.

This was not a move to clericalize the church. Rather, as William Ditewig wrote in The Emerging Diaconate,

the pioneers of a renewed diaconate, incarcerated at Dachau concentration centration camp, saw the diaconate as a necessary component of a renewed church transforming the world so that tragedies such as the Second World War and the Shoah would not happen again.

I wonder. Was there no one in the Resistance to Nazi Germany who had the ears of the bishops? If there were permanent deacons, living and working in the streets of Germany, would they have been able to let the bishops see what was really happening?

If the deacons are “the eyes and the ears” of the bishop, they may make them more aware of the serious crises facing the lives of ordinary peoples.

The deacon should be in a place in the secular world – not only revealing the sanctity of the world of work by his presence, but also bringing the experiences of his coworkers to the altar. He also should be the one who brings the poor to the church and the church to the poor.

Does the permanent deacon bring the world of work into the structures of the Church? Will he let the bishops and those in authority know of the challenges facing the world?

In addition, would the deacon in his daily life of family and work be better able to show the presence of Christ? This seems to be what one of the priests at Dachau noted:

The Church has not succeeded in holding its ground among either the leading intellectual classes nor among those classes most easily led astray, the proletariat. In their own milieu, deacons from these classes for these classes could gain influence incomparably deeper than could any priest, since priests would never develop within this milieu the kind of rapport that deacons would have already established. One could develop the diaconate into a means to win back the de-Christianized milieu. An intelligent deacon from the working-class would, without any special theological training, be able to touch the heart of his worker colleagues with just the right words.

The working permanent deacon might be the one who can better connect the world and the altar, the Church and the people who are alienated or marginalized from faith.

I think this is part of what Pope Saint John Paul II meant when he spoke in a 1993 general audience:

A deeply felt need in the decision to re-establish the permanent diaconate was and is that of a greater and more direct presence of Church ministers in the various spheres of the family, work, school etc., in addition to existing pastoral structures.

This line of thought leads me to suggest that we need to develop the practice and the spirituality of the worker-deacon.  One of the experiments in Europe in the mid-twentieth century that I think held out some hope for the re-evangelization of Europe was the worker-priest movement. Perhaps that movement should be the inspiration of a theology of the “worker-deacon.”

I write this as one working full-time in the church but I see the need to develop a diaconate in the world, a diaconate of the blue collar worker, a diaconate of the campesino, a diaconate of the bus driver, a diaconate of the civil servant.

In addition, the deacon should be recognized by who he is and what he does – not just at the table of the Lord at Mass but at the table of the poor.

Is the permanent deacon – am I – an icon of Christ the Servant at the Table of the Lord and an icon of the Servant Body of Christ in the world?

A final thought.

If the deacon is to serve in the margins, to witness the church’s love and justice for the poor and neglected, what might be our distinctive sign?

Father Paul McPartlan pointedly wrote that “The deacon stands at the altar and prepares the gifts with clean hands, but he stands also where the practical need is greatest, getting his hands very dirty.”

The dirt under our fingernails might be a worthy sign of our diaconal ministry. But I think there is another image that might help us develop a practical theology of diaconal ministry.

Pope Francis worked for some time with Jesuits in formation in Argentine. When they returned from their visits to the villas miserias, the poor neighborboods, he would inspect their shoes to see if they had walked among the poor.

Maybe muddy shoes should be the sign of the deacon.