Notebook
Fr Conor McDonough
It was heartening to see last week Californian politicians withdrawing legislation that would undermine the Seal of Confession. The bill was opposed by a large, well organised and committed campaign of lay Catholics, but the public face of the campaign was Archbishop José Gomez of Los Angeles [pictured].
He’s a fascinating figure. He speaks out regularly on issues of public policy, but never allows himself to be pigeonholed as a ‘liberal’ or ‘conservative’. He’s just as comfortable addressing a pro-life march as he is speaking up for vulnerable immigrants.
When I see Archbishop Gomez leading so decisively, I think of how the Acts of the Apostles describes the first followers of Jesus speaking out with parrhesia, a holy boldness, or frankness. We might even translate that Greek word with a Hebrew word that has entered our own language: ‘chutzpah’.
Reluctance
I often hear people complain that Irish bishops and priests are insufficiently strident in their pronouncements, and I think it’s easy to understand why the clergy are reluctant to speak out boldly. In our past, clergy were often seen to be overbearing and controlling, and most Irish clergy want desperately to move away from that old authoritarianism, the days of the proverbial ‘belt of the crozier’. And so, instead, often in the name of humility, a certain timidity can set in.
It’s precisely now, though, when the Church is on its way to becoming a minority, that clerical chutzpah becomes a necessary virtue. The community of Faith has been battered from within and without, and deserves now to be led and defended by men with guts, who can see clearly, speak plainly and serenely, ignore flattery, and stand up to the powerful.
For inspiration, the Irish Church need only look to the many holy leaders of the past, who so often spoke the truth with great courage and good humour.
The community of Faith has been battered from within and without”
Just take the 4th Century: even after the Church, at Nicaea, had made clear its ancient belief in the full divinity of Jesus, there were many who held onto the opinion that God the Son was inferior to God the Father. These people, called Arians, were often politically powerful, and they could make life very difficult for bishops who defended our faith.
The great unyielding defender of the Nicene creed was the Egyptian bishop, Athanasius of Alexandria. He was bishop for 45 years, but whenever an Arian became emperor, the intransigent Athanasius would find himself exiled. This happened not once, but five times! Five times he was willing, for the sake of the truth, to lose title and security.
But Athanasius never lost his wit. Once, when forced to take flight on a riverboat, he was stopped by an imperial vessel sent to arrest him. The commander called out, “We’re looking for Athanasius, have you seen him?” To which the cheeky patriarch replied, “Yes, he is not far from you. Godspeed!” And each boat continued on its way…
A similar example of episcopal boldness, further east and a little later, is St Basil of Caesarea. He faced persecution for the very same reason as St Athanasius: his dogged defence of the truth concerning Jesus’ divinity.
When a pro-Arian imperial official summoned Basil before him to intimidate him into silence, threatening him with confiscation of his goods, exile and death, Basil, we’re told, replied simply that confiscation would do him little harm, since he owned nearly nothing, exile wouldn’t bother him, since he was passing through this world on his way to another, and death was not something he feared, since it was his way home to God.
The prefect was furious: “Nobody has ever spoken to me like that”. The bold Basil replied coolly: “Well perhaps you’ve never met a bishop before?”
How’s that for chutzpah?
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If you’re going to do it, do it properly…
Modern times, too, have seen great examples of episcopal boldness. My favourite is the Orthodox archbishop of Athens, Damaskinos (1891-1949).
During the Nazi occupation of Greece, he wrote an open letter protesting firmly and unequivocally against the deportation of Greek Jews.
The local SS commander repaid this courage by threatening him with the firing squad. The response of the archbishop was perfect: “‘According to the traditions of the Greek Orthodox Church, our prelates are hanged, not shot. Please respect our traditions.”