Coming ‘Round to Square One

Coming ‘Round to Square One July 4, 2005

Back when I was an adolescent, thinking myself a chosen man of God, I had a disagreement with my Southern Baptist minister. It was the 70’s. I was a teen. He was a square. But that’s not the reason. The problem revolved around another cooler, hipper, preacher. The latter we’ll refer to as Reverend Green.

Though he didn’t pastor a church, Rev. Green was a dynamic evangelist. I’d heard him preach a couple times at youth rallies, prayer breakfasts and such. Boy, was he ever hot! Green really held my attention and I thought: “Cool! I want him to be my preacher!” He had a gift. He was vibrant and on fire for the Lord. He was the man!

Right?

During a Youth Meeting I suggested inviting him to preach at our church. Our request was submitted to the pastor and, you guessed it, the answer was “No”. Fuddy. Duddy. We didn’t understand and, as it turns out, the pastor wouldn’t give us teens the real reasons. In fact, it got to the point where we — I should say “I” — demanded a meeting. He heard me out; still refused. He wasn’t cool. He just didn’t understand. He was … Arrgh! I thought, “He’s got to go.” If memory serves, I believe I even sent him a letter asking him to do just that: Leave.

Years later I learned that the happ’nin Rev Green was happ’nin in places he shouldn’t have been. You are correct dear reader, he ran off with a church secretary, another man’s wife. Or was it the organist? I can’t remember. But, I remember the lesson. That is, we ought not make a habit of throwing stones at clergy because, often, we don’t know the whole story. The pastor may not even have all the details. And it’s very likely the he wouldn’t — couldn’t — tell parisioners if he did.

It is the same in Orthodoxy, even more so.

Many times, the priest or bishop is unable to be totally forthcoming about certain matters because they are confidential and/or would cause greater scandal if all told.

Over the years I’ve come to have great respect for the clergy who are able to keep their mouth shut and carry on serving God and Man with love and joy. Believe me, it would be much easier to become resentful, bitter, and mean. Even worse, the priest could become an old gossip — letting junk just fall out of his mouth with ease. The temptations are always there.

The first time I expressed interest in holy orders to a priest, he told me of his inaugural conversation with his bishop. The crusty old man looked him straight in the eye and said, “Boy, do you pray?”

“Why yes, I pray every day …”

“Pray to God you don’t have this curse!” said the bishop.

I think the old man had let the vocation get the better of him. It happens.

Or, as one priest said: “I wanted to be a priest out of arrogance; God allows me to be one as a penance.”

Once, at a Diocesan Convention in Atlanta, Bishop Basil delivered a homily about priests. Not just any priests, but the ones that were seated right in front of His Grace and 2,000 worshippers. He talked of their struggles, their crosses, the sacrifices that they — and their families — make in order to serve. He encouraged the faithful to pray for their priest and to lovingly support him and his family. I was a “baby priest” at the time and couldn’t fully appreciate or understand why so many of the men around me were weeping. Sobbing. Priests. Crying their eyes out.

Ten years later, I know now.

I no longer judge fellow priests, or any pastor, as harshly as I used to. Not that I agree with them all the time, like their practices — or even like them. Nope. But being hard-headed and a slow learner, I think my temperance (what little there is of it, and God knows I need it) is a direct result of my own battle scars. Trust me, a man who has served the Lord’s altar for many years has seen, heard, and experienced just about every temptation Satan can come up with. They, the elder clergy, inspire me.

Don’t misunderstand. There are bad apples (e.g., Rev. Green above and all those situations the media loves to report). I’ve met a few of them in Orthodoxy. But the sacrificial nature of the vocation has a way of purging and honing even the roughest of edges. By and large, parishioners are patient and God is merciful.

The pastor’s real struggle, as with everyone, is the day-to-day struggle of sin and salvation. For the pastor that means not only his own salvation and that of his family, but also that of his flock.

You think you have sleepless nights worrying about your children? So does the pastor, worrying about his flock.

Do your children break your heart by the things they say and do? Pastor, flock.

Do you pray for your children and weep over them when they’re not looking? Pastor, flock.

Do you sometimes look at your children and think, “Huh?” Pastor, flock.

Do your children sometimes give you dirty looks when you correct them? Pastor, flock. 🙂

No matter how many times they break your heart, are you always there for them? Pastor, flock.

Do you know things about yourself and other people that you don’t share with your children so as to, for as long as able, preserve their innocence and not be a temptation to them? Pastor, flock.

Do you know things about your children that you refuse to make common knowledge? Pastor, flock.

Etc.

Most of all, do you love & delight in your children? Pastor, flock.

Over the years I’ve been shocked when clergy actually DO divulge stuff. I’m not talking about things said in Confession, God forbid. Rather, scandal eventually hits all parishes and the priest tries mightily to protect his children, the flock. But often are the times when folks — human nature, we all do it — try to put a self-helping spin on their failings. Mixing in a good bit of sin can tempt one to find someone to blame. Anyone. Like, for instance, the priest! That’s it! The priest is to blame!

Sometimes he is.

Most times, most priests, ain’t.

I remember once when a parishioner suddenly quit the parish. There were a few who thought, “Father ran him off!” Such talk usually dies down as the grieving process proceeds, but this went on for some time. Having divulged the true reason for the man’s departure (truly scandalous) to the bishop, he said, “If it’s affecting someone’s salvation and they just won’t stop talking about it — tell them.” And I did. Thank God, those times have been few. Mature Christians know better. Oftentimes they know better than the priest and help to remind him that “God prunes His Church”.

After a while, the priest gets used to it. Never likes it. Suffers for it. But reaches an understanding with himself that, for sanity’s sake, and that of his family and his flock, he’s just going to keep struggling toward the Kingdom the best he’s able.

Why?

I remember a candid clergy gathering, the topic was “Antagonists in the Church”, where an experienced priest told of an early trial in his ministry. Someone in his parish had started a rumour about his wife. It became a scandal. Like all such devilry, it snowballed. At one point the wife asked her priest-husband, “Why?” Why keep on? Why not leave and go to another parish? Why not give up the nonsense and get a “real job”? Etc. The priest, with tears in his eyes, told the rest of us what he had told his wife, “Honey, you don’t understand. I get to stand at the altar of the Most High and touch the precious Body of our Lord at every Liturgy.”

We all understood.

Standing before the altar and celebrating the Mysteries of the Church is an experience incomparable to any other this side of the grave. No man should ever take it lightly. Few are they who remain unchanged by this awesome and sacred duty. For lack of better wording, it makes it all worth it.

Our imperfect world — outside Paradise, ruled by the Enemy — has taught us to question all authority, and has denigrated fatherhood. But as Christians, we know that all fatherhood flows from the Father. It is His Fatherhood that should be the model, the ideal, for earthly fathers. We should not judge fatherhood according to the ways of the world. Rather, the changeless Fatherhood of God is known through the Church.

St Cyprian of Carthage wrote:
“No one can have God as Father who does not have the Church as Mother.”

And somewhere along the line, God willing, we children all fit in.

Most of the time your priest is just a man struggling toward salvation, bowed a little lower each year with the weight of his sins, the burden of “parenting”, and the glory of the Cross. Standing at the altar, it’s all worth it. All of it. Worth it.

Pray for your pastor.

(Even if he is a square.)


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