Practicing What They Preach

The men at the round tables are priests in plain clothes--open collars, casual shoes, muted colors that seem out of character with the corporate grandeur of the Sheraton Universal Hotel.

“We have not been the church of the rich,” says Father Joseph Protano, a heavyset priest from Providence, R.I. His New England-Italian accent evokes priests in black-and-white movies who sounded like cops or gangsters.

“By and large, we have been the church of the poor, of the working-class, average Joe. And increasingly today, of senior citizens. And I would wager that most priests come from blue-collar backgrounds.”

The morning workshop on priests and social activism--”The Priest as Pastor and Prophet”--is part of the annual conference of the National Federation of Priests’ Councils.

The delegates represent councils elected or appointed by priests in 88 of the nation’s 175 dioceses. Other dioceses do not participate because of philosophical differences or financial constraints.

Topics range from the spiritual--”The Gift: Searching for Identity in a Church of Many Ministers”--to the practical--”How to Buy a Wellness Program.”

This workshop focuses on increasing the commitment of the U.S. Catholic Church to issues such as poverty at home and abroad, workers’ rights and other social causes. The delegates have pegged the effort to the 100th anniversary next year of Pope Leo XIII’s call for Catholic social activism in 1891.

“Our best-kept secret is that we have a substantial body of church teachings on social, economic and cultural matters,” says Father Fred Kammer, a church policy adviser based in Washington, D.C.

Many Catholics in the United States historically resisted those teachings because they were intent on moving into the social and economic mainstream, sometimes in a hostile environment, Kammer says. “We bought the American myth wholesale. The accusation of being un-American has been far more stinging than being un-Christian or un-Catholic.”

These priests want to change that. Many belong to missionary orders and have served in the Third World trenches, whether in Latin America or in U.S. inner cities. They are witty, ardent, surprisingly blunt.

“This must be a celebration of who in the hell we are,” says Father George Murphy in an Irish brogue. He says the church has spent $5 million on anti-abortion efforts and $25 million on a headquarters in Washington. “If we can raise $30 million for that, damn it to hell, a couple of bucks ought to be found for this celebration.”

Father Thomas O’Brien, who wears a red cardigan sweater, spent 15 years working with the poor in Guatemala but speaks with the flat twang of his native Chicago. His church in a Virginia suburb of Washington has many parishioners who work for the Pentagon and other federal agencies. “When you start talking about this kind of thing, they think you’re a communist or something,” he says.

O’Brien believes the creed should include denunciations of injustice and oppression.

“We can sell them on the Trinity because it’s harmless,” he says. “It doesn’t hit them in the pocketbook.”

Father Douglas Doussan of New Orleans suggests that a spirit of collaboration ought to temper the “prophetic” role of the priest. He quotes theologian Thomas Merton: “Every prophet is a pain-in-the-neck, but not every pain-in-the-neck is a prophet.”

“I would have lowered his locus a little bit,” Protano jokes.

Kammer poses a theoretical question: How would those present spend a $500,000 windfall bequeathed by a parishioner, weighing considerations such as the parish treasury and local and overseas charities?

The discussion centers on the divisions that would surface: between liberally inclined priests and more conservative parishioners, between longtime, middle-class, white parishioners on one hand and the minorities and new immigrants who are changing the face of the church on the other.

“Overt, violent, up-front racism can be a serious impediment to charity,” says Father Bill Pruett, whose archdiocese in Kiowa County, Okla., has seen conflicts between farmers of German origin and Latin American farm workers.

Talk of strife brings up the theme dominating the conference agenda. The church and the priesthood are in transition, if not in crisis. As urban schools and churches close, as the ranks of the clergy dwindle, fundamental concepts are being challenged.

“It is difficult to talk about social justice outside the church when we don’t have justice inside the church,” a white-haired priest says. “The issues of equality for women, the whole question of priests and sexuality, must be addressed.”

Protano reflects on the mood while the others go outside for a break. He sits alone among empty chairs, his big hands on the table.

“Priestless parishes, that’s the fulcrum point for all these other questions,” he says. “Do we reach out to the priests who have left and married and want to go back to work, get them back on the job? How about permitting ordained women?

“I heard a commentator make a good point about Earth Day. He said the planet isn’t in trouble, it’s the species that’s in trouble. . . . The church is not in trouble. The church has been here since the beginning of time. It’s the people. . . . We are talking about the survival of Roman Catholicism.”