Deacon Finds His New Role a Learning Experience

In 1982, Sam Frias was ordained a permanent deacon in the Roman Catholic Church. Already heavily involved in church life, he figured his new role would just mean one more regular committee meeting to attend.

It led instead to dramatic changes in his life.

Last year, he abandoned a 25-year teaching career to become paid executive director of the Los Angeles Archdiocese’s pastoral council program. More recently, he was named to a select group of Catholics who offer recommendations to the nation’s bishops on the variety of issues that come before them.

As a member of the U.S. Catholic Bishops’ National Advisory Council, the 55-year-old Granada Hills resident is in a position to play a part in the fashioning of American church policy.

“I’ve always been a pretty strong Catholic, but after I was ordained, I just became more and more involved in the church,” he said.

‘No Returning to Before’

“Once I was ordained, there was no returning to before. You’re always a deacon no matter what. I can’t just say they can do without me--I have to be there.”

His deepened involvement also pointed up to Frias how little he really knew about his faith.

“At the same time, I was comforted by knowing that, for the rest of my life, I can continue to grow into the religion,” he said.

Frias’ love for the church was instilled in him by his aunt and uncle, who raised him in Boyle Heights after his parents, who came from Mexico, split up. “There was always a strong emphasis on the church, but I never wanted to be a priest,” he said.

Instead, he married, had three children and became a teacher. He taught graphic arts and photography for eight years at Fulton Junior High School in Van Nuys and 17 years at Beverly Hills High School.

Persuaded by Pastor

He moved to Granada Hills 24 years ago and became a member of St. John Baptist de la Salle parish. The church’s former pastor, Msgr. Peter O’Sullivan, first suggested that Frias, who already was involved in church activities, ranging from the mens’ club to athletic teams, become a permanent deacon.

“I guess he saw that some of the other big Valley parishes had deacons and we didn’t,” Frias said. “I just thought it would be more meetings. The next thing I know, I’m being interviewed” by archdiocese officials and given a psychological evaluation.

“I must have passed, I guess.”

As a permanent deacon, Frias is empowered by the church to perform the rites of baptism, marriage and burial for Catholics. But he may not celebrate Mass or hear confession, and the degree to which he and other deacons take on priestly tasks is decided by their pastor.

“I look at it as a ministry,” Frias said. “We’re ordained to assist the priest, but not to replace him. . . . I don’t think a married man can do the same job as an unmarried priest. To be a priest is a 24-hour job.”

Private Meetings

Like most Catholics, Frias admits he knew little about the workings of the council at the time of his election. In large part, that is because the council’s two yearly meetings are conducted in private and their recommendations to the bishops are kept confidential.

Because of the secrecy, it is hard to judge just what influence the 63-member group has on the bishops’ thinking. The bishops are not obliged to follow council recommendations.

Thomas C. Fox, editor of the National Catholic Reporter, an independent weekly that views the church with a liberal eye, said: “My hunch is the council is mostly show. It seems to me that when the bishops do their hard-core things, like issuing a pastoral letter, they pretty much do their own thing.”

But Father Donald Heintschel, who provides staff support to the council on behalf of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops in Washington, termed the council “quite influential.”

“The council members are quite free in their expressions and the bishops listen to them,” he said. “Council members are not theologians, so they’re not generally involved in theological dissent.

‘Middle-of-the-Road’

“Dissent on the social teachings does arise, though the council is usually middle-of-the-road.”

As an “example of the council’s independent spirit,” Heintschel cited Donna Hanson, who, as council chairwoman at the time, made headlines during Pope John Paul II’s stopover in San Francisco last year by lecturing him on the frustrations of lay Catholics.

The national advisory council was established in 1968. Laymen and women comprise the bulk of its membership, but priests, nuns and even a handful of bishops also are represented on the panel.

“It’s supposed to be a prototype of the church and all its constituent parts,” Heintschel said.

Frias, who attended his first council meeting in March, said his initial impression is that the council has a good deal of influence.

‘I Was Very Impressed’

“You can see that from the process, from how knowledgeable the discussions” are, he said. “I was very impressed. It’s more than I anticipated. I thought it might just be routine stuff.”

Frias said he spent his first council meeting “mostly listening and taking notes. It’s pretty awesome. They hit you with a 5-inch stack of documents a few days before the meeting starts and figure you’ve got nothing else to do but study them.

“I learned you’ve got be prepared. My eyes were opened.”

He declined to say more about the four-day meeting, which was held in Maryland. “I can see the need for confidentiality,” he said. “If you start talking about things before the bishops finalize things, it just makes it confusing.”

Frias describes himself as a mainstream Catholic who closely follows policy set down by the Pope and Archbishop Roger Mahony of Los Angeles.

‘No Room for Debate’

On the issue of birth control, for example, he said: “There’s no question that if we’re told by the Gospel, by the church, that it’s wrong, then there is no room for debate.”

And while he personally would accept a woman as a Catholic priest, here, again, he does not believe in questioning the Pope’s reasons for closing the door to that possibility. “Perhaps in time it will happen,” Frias said.

His current position is “a radical change for me,” Frias said during an interview in his pastoral council office. The office is in one of the buildings just west of downtown that make up the headquarters of the Los Angeles Archdiocese.

“There’s so much to do here, but everything in the church is a slow process,” he said. “We have 2,000 years of tradition, and sometimes that slows us down. I have a lot to learn here.”