Amid Secular Self-Absorption, Who Ministers to Priests?

I grew up on the Protestant side of the tracks, catching only occasional glimpses of Catholic priests. What I saw from a distance intrigued me. While Methodist ministers dressed like insurance men and picked up their kids after school, priests wore their calling on their sleeves (or around their necks) and lived . . . where?

I never met a priest I didn’t like. Old ones seemed kindly, the young ones cool. More colorful, more engaging--they just seemed more fleshed-out than their Protestant brethren. I pictured Protestant ministers on folding chairs at a convention in Tulsa; I pictured Catholic priests quaffing ale in pubs and whooping it up while watching Notre Dame play football on TV.

Becoming more aware of their celibacy vows only deepened my admiration for their service. So even as the Catholic Church became increasingly arcane to me, priests remained fixed in my mind as very good people indeed.

Many of them are hurting now.

Maybe not in ways that are even noticeable to their parishioners, but they’re hurting.

Along with the rest of Orange County, local priests are rocked by allegations that Father Richard Coughlin may have molested a number of young boys during his longtime tenure as head of the All-American Boys Chorus. Coughlin has been suspended as the local diocese looks into allegations by six men who have come forward and said Coughlin molested them when they were boys.

If the allegations are true, we would probably all agree that the victims’ psychic restoration is the paramount concern. But if there were demons that haunted Father Coughlin, where did they come from? If there were demons he couldn’t overpower, what kind of psychic restoration must be needed if he is to become a whole man again? Indeed, at 68 years old, is it too late for him?

In the aftermath of the Coughlin scandal, national church officials reiterated that in the last 10 years more than 400 priests or brothers around the country have been reported for sexual molestation. Officials also have begun talking openly about other problems associated with secular society, such as alcoholism and other sexual indiscretions.

So it was that I was talking to a friend over the weekend about priests’ lives. Other clergymen get the presumed reinforcing benefits of hearth and home; why shouldn’t priests? What person holds their hand at the end of the day? Who tells them not to worry when their best isn’t good enough?

Would it surprise you to find out that some local priests have their own support group? Just like it sounds, it’s a get-together that helps them stay upright when they feel themselves wobbling.

“The whole idea is to talk about how things are going in life, get feedback on any particular issues--personal issues, mainly,” said Father Donald Romito, priest at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in La Habra and also an assistant professor of religious studies at Cal State Fullerton.

“It’s just the whole idea of talking to people who know what’s going on and what it’s like, for not only affirmation and encouragement--because that’s always there--but at the same time the group is there to challenge you, how you’re handling this or that. . . .”

Some of the conversation centers around the seemingly simple issue of whether the priests are taking enough time off. That may sound simple, but it isn’t. As the priest pool shrinks nationwide, priests are asked to take on increasing duties.

Add to that the proliferating multicultural makeup of their parishes. And the range of problems facing people today. And a priest’s inherent tendency to want to help people. And his anxiety for people he can’t help.

“It was always supposed that with the grace of ordination you were automatically able to handle anything that came your way,” Romito said, “and a lot were able to because I think cultural support was built in, sort of the ‘Going My Way’ syndrome: ‘Oh, Father, we’ll take care of you. Oh, come in, Father, have a plate of spaghetti.’ I think there was some reality to that movie image, but now the priest does not get that support from the outside culture. Far from it--it’s just the opposite.”

So priests turn to each other, the nourishing power of the Church and the reward from helping people solve problems, Romito said.

Often it’s enough. Sometimes it isn’t. “It’s the physical amount of the work--how many people I was not able to get to tonight . . . ,” Romito said. “People expect the priest to be available when they need them, and that’s what we try to do.”

At Romito’s parish, there are four priests. The parish has 4,500 families.

Are we asking too much? “That has been the case in the past,” Romito said. “People have put priests up on pedestals, but I think today’s priest is helping people to realize we can’t do everything. We’re not supermen or super-priests. So the priests I know are being sure they take a day off, making sure they have a support group or take retreat days. The idea is: How can I help someone if I’m burnt out or I’m not focused or not feeling whole?”

It would be a bit presumptuous of me to venture too far into the world of Catholicism I don’t know much about. My intention today isn’t to apologize for anything Father Coughlin may have done or rationalize any misdeeds another priest may commit.

Suffice it to say I’m just summoning impressions from long ago about the essential goodness of priests, admiring their desire to serve their fellow man and worrying about what happens if we ask too much of them.

I’ll leave it at that, realizing in my own mind that like all mortal men they sometimes are in much more need of compassion and help than scorn.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.