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I actually have been a priest for nearly 20 years, and I actually have never liked being called “Father.” I dislike it a lot that every year on Father’s Day some mischievous members of my family purposely make a degree of calling to wish me a Completely happy Father’s Day. I dislike it a lot that I’m afraid more of my family will now start doing the identical.
I do know: What’s the massive deal? It’s like calling your physician “Doctor.” It’s like telling your kids to seek advice from their friends’ parents as “Mr. and Mrs.” reasonably than “Tellulah and the Boz.” It’s like referring to the guy in control of your unit as “Sarge.” It’s only a job title.
We are going to all be quite a bit higher off when fewer distinctions are made between us clergy and everybody else.
Who knows, possibly I’d have the identical trouble in those situations. (Who doesn’t need to be called “Tellulah” or “The Boz?”) But I believe the title of “Father” is a bit bit different. A part of my trouble with the term is the quantity of respect that routinely comes with it, the authority that’s immediately granted to priests. After I used to be ordained, Catholics who were much older and more achieved than me, individuals who didn’t even know me, were suddenly talking to me with a deference I couldn’t understand and definitely didn’t deserve. And “Father” was only one a part of this package: I can’t let you know how again and again I’ve had people apologize for cursing or slips of the tongue. “You must come have a drink at my community,” I’ve desired to say to them.
And it’s not only strangers who adopt the term either. It’s college pals who knew me after I used to ride around campus on a ten speed with no brakes while unironically wearing a bucket hat, black trenchcoat and Batman pin. It’s relatives who once emptied my diapers and know I got grounded for attempting to trick a neighbor kid into paying $100 for my old “Star Wars” trading cards. These are individuals who know me far too well to treat me like I’m anything special.
It’s true, I’ve taken vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, and I’ve done some interesting and hopefully meaningful things in my life. But I’m also a man who spends way an excessive amount of time excited about “Star Wars,” Jeff Goldblum and the longer term of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. (Come to me, my X-Men.) And while I take being a priest seriously, I’ve also lost jobs, screwed up friendships and recently received my Ph.D. in nursing a grudge. (I’m a 52-year-old Scotch-Irish Virgo. It comes with the territory.) I’d wish to think I’m price having a conversation with. But your confidence? Your faith? Take your time.
I’d wish to think I’m price having a conversation with. But your confidence? Your faith? Take your time.
My dislike of the title isn’t coming from any lack of self-esteem, either. (Did I not mention, I’m a Jesuit.) I believe not calling me Father is in your best interest. Before I got ordained, I worked as a teacher at Red Cloud Indian School on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. The people were incredible and respectful, but few of them rushed to place an excessive amount of faith in a recent Jesuit coming to work there. They’d all had too many past experiences of the dumb things we are saying and do (and I did). As an alternative, I needed to earn their respect. And it was hard; it forced me to confront my very own blind spots and failings. But that made me a greater teacher and eventually, I hope, a greater person.
We’re raised to think that priests are worthy of the utmost regard, but actually people within the church today have just as many reasons to be cautious or skeptical of clergy as my students did of me. The church’s history of abuse and cover-up, clerical expressions of privilege and stories of clerics putting ideology or political agendas ahead of pastoral care all have undermined the legitimacy of our role as leaders.
So don’t hesitate to, well, hesitate. Make us prove we’re worthy of your trust before you give it. That’s not being judgmental or unfair, just prudent. Your alternative to take it slow might even empower those around you to appreciate they’ve the fitting to ask the identical.
Here’s the opposite thing I don’t like about being called “Father”: The term draws an unhelpful distinction between we who’re priests from everyone else within the church. Religious education instructors are generally not called “Teacher”; the Social Ministries Director of your parish is just not “Disciple” or the upkeep person “the Czar of Clean.” So why give me a title? My first name works just in addition to theirs do. And though I’m standing within the place of Christ during sacramental activities, our belief stays that it’s Christ doing the work, not me. And aren’t all of us called to be Christ within the actions of our day by day lives?
That’s where all of the “Yes, Father” deference leads us, to guys who abuse their authority and think it’s O.K.
My reference to God is just not someway magically deeper than yours. Most clergy don’t have visions or hear voices. I’m also not nicer than anyone else or more generous; ask my family or friends.
I’m not attempting to dismiss the gift that a superb priest will be in a community. I just need to indicate, so is a superb woman religious, a superb music director, a superb highschool theology teacher, a superb deacon, an energetic women’s auxiliary and that one older couple who has been coming to the parish for the last 60 years. Clericalism has been an element of our church for thus many centuries that I believe it’s very hard for us to acknowledge the complete extent of it even when it’s right there in front of us. I’m sure that the majority people think they are only doing what they’re presupposed to once they call me Father or once they refrain from telling me that my homily was terrible and, by the best way, I seem like an unmade bed. But really I could use their help to maintain me from making those mistakes.
I still hear far too many stories of priests going to recent parishes and making changes as soon as they get there, consulting with nobody and acting more like a landlord than a frontrunner. To my mind, that’s where all of the “Yes, Father” deference leads us, to guys who abuse their authority and think it’s O.K.
When it comes right down to it, if you must call me Father, I won’t argue with you. My job is to simply accept you as you’re, to not make you agree with me. But I hope that you just’d use the title with the knowledge that we’re fellow pilgrims. Because we’ll all be quite a bit higher off when fewer distinctions are made between us clergy and everybody else. I get it; our lives seem weird. (O.K., possibly our lives are weird.) But fundamentally we’re just people attempting to follow Jesus and be good to others in our own messy, imperfect ways. Sometimes the very best show of respect for somebody is just not putting them on a pedestal, but reasonably letting them walk beside you on this crazy road.
[Read next: “A married Catholic priest’s lessons from two kinds of fatherhood.”]