clericalism

An Uncommon Priesthood

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 3 Comments

Uncommon: not ordinarily encountered: unusual; remarkable, exceptional

Priest: someone who is authorized to perform the sacred rites of a religion especially as a mediatory agent between humans and God

Priesthood: the office, dignity, or character of a priest

Merriam-Webster Dictionary

On the first day of the Christology course that was part of my ministry training, our (female) professor asked those of us who felt called to ordination to raise our hands. The men in our class, as was to be expected, raised their hands as they were on the track to becoming deacons. My friend, Karen, and I also raised our hands. That got us a giggle because women, of course, are not allowed to be ordained, either as a deacon or a priest, in the Catholic Church.

I was a preacher
My heart broke for all the world
But teaching was unrighteous for a girl
In the summer I was baptized in the mighty Colorado
In the winter I heard the hounds and I knew I had been found
And in my Savior’s name, I laid my weapons down
But I am still around… (Highwomen, lyrics by Amanda Rose Shires / Brandi Carlile / Jimmy L. Webb)

That was thirty years ago, and yet still today, women are barred from priesthood in the Catholic Church. That prohibition, however, has not lessened my call to be priest. In the years since, I have discerned priesthood through two denominations outside of the Catholic Church, but in both instances, the prevalence of clericalism in those institutions dissuaded me from completing that path.

Clericalism:  a policy of maintaining or increasing the power of a religious hierarchy (to Merriam-Webster’s definition, I would add: lauding, flaunting, defending, and enforcing that power and in some cases, using it to justify non-loving acts)

To me, priesthood has never been about power. It has always been about service. Neither has it been about hierarchy. Instead, it is a collaboration of gifts in support of individual and collective need. This is the priesthood I see in Jesus and what he drew forth from those who gathered around him. Jesus was not a leader who wanted followers. Instead, he was a catalyst who empowered people in their gifts. By humbly serving those most in need, Jesus’ example challenged the religious and political institutions of his time. These institutions valued their power and privilege over the people they were meant to serve.

Sadly, Jesus’ example did not stand as the early disciples (Peter and Paul in particular) traded the collaborative empowerment that Jesus’ taught them for patriarchal and hierarchical power. This model still stands today in nearly all Christian institutions. This is why I did not, cannot, and refuse, to fit into any institution that values power over service.

Instead, it seems, I have carved out a priesthood all my own. One that has been ordained, not by a bishop’s anointing and laying on of hands, but by careful attention to the call of Love, and living out that Love in all the many ways I have been called. Sometimes this call looks priestly in the marriages and funerals I officiate. Sometimes this call looks formative as I create and facilitate classes and write books in support of participants’ personal/spiritual development. Sometimes it looks pastoral in the one-on-one spiritual counseling I provide. Sometimes the service I provide supports people in their healing, in finding direction, and in experiencing comfort.

Most commonly, however, my priesthood is confirmed in unexpected and surprising ways. It is known in the 6am phone call from a distant friend seeking support for a family member in crisis. It is known in the generous financial donations I sometimes find in my mailbox. It is known in the confidences people have shared with me during challenging times. It is in the many acquaintances who suddenly seek my support and my own wondering of why they chose me. Why would they trust me with this, I barely know them? And yet, time and time and time again, this is so. People who I know – but not really. Amazing, lovely people who I have come to know and love along the way – but we don’t really hang out. People who I know from simply being me in the small community where I live. People, in whom I’ve likely seen something (love, kindness, generosity, honesty, integrity, authenticity) who are somehow seeing me, and trusting me with the most intimate and challenging times of their lives.

This is the priesthood for which I am most grateful.  A priesthood that is unexpected and surprising and looks absolutely nothing like what we have come to associate with being priest. And yet, it is exactly what the Catholic Church preaches in its invitation to participate in the priesthood of all believers (Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraphs: 1267, 1268, 1141, 1143, 1268, 1305, 1535, 1547, 1591, and 1592). Whereas the institutional church does not recognize my priestly calling, I am profoundly humbled and grateful to all those who have invited me to serve in this role.

Clericalism by Any Other Name…

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Just because one leaves the Catholic Church to become a priest elsewhere doesn’t mean one has escaped the dangers of clericalism. In fact, some of those I have known to take the collar elsewhere have been the most guilty of behaviors consistent with clericalism.

Clericalism:

            a policy of maintaining or increasing the power of a religious hierarchy.

a disordered attitude toward clergy, an excessive deference and an assumption of their

moral superiority

Throughout my life I have felt the call to serve humanity on behalf of the mission of Love. In the Catholic tradition in which I was raised women had two options: become a nun or a lay minister. I chose the latter. After leaving the Catholic Church, priesthood became an option to explore if I was willing to join a different denomination.

Three times I entered discernment into the priesthood through three different denominations. One I chose not to explore further because their theology of sacrament didn’t match my own. The other two, in theory, shared my theology, but in the end, it was clericalism that turned me away.

Clericalism, as I have personally experienced it is a priest (of any gender) who acts as if they are better than, separate from, or in a position of power over those to whom they are called to serve. Clericalism is anything that deems a priest special and better simply by virtue of being a priest.

Fr. David Doyle, my twelfth grade religion teacher, for example, dared to proclaim his ability to go immediately to heaven after he died NO MATTER his state of sinfulness. Even if he had murdered someone he got to go to heaven before us simply by virtue of his ordination.  At least, this is what he claimed. I told him he was wrong.

Some of the behaviors and examples of clericalism are obvious: hierarchical and patriarchal behaviors and attitudes, believing they are God, thinking the rules don’t apply to them, lacking accountability and/or anyone to hold them accountable, hypocrisy, etc.

Others are more subtle: adoration of the collar and priestly vestments, treating women clergy as subservient, giving women clergy lesser positions or less desirable assignments, preaching collaboration while acting autocratically.

In my mind when one is called to serve it is as an equal. I am no different than the people who I am called to serve. I recoil from anything that would seek to set me apart or marks me as different. It is for this reason that even when discerning priesthood, I had no plans to wear a collar, or put on vestments. Jesus didn’t wear vestments. He dressed as the people he served. So when those with whom I was discerning priesthood spoke of their adoration of the collar and “what happens” when they don priestly vestments, I listened more closely! When the man who was discerning priesthood with me and who had invited me to start a community with him made important community decisions behind my back and when I called him out for it and he responded with “why are you always picking on me?” (ie….why are you always holding me accountable), then I got the Fuck out!

Later, I discerned with another denomination. When the Bishop of this denomination denied the fact of declining enrollment and said there was no need to explore alternatives, I had deep questions. When the priest with whom I was discerning priesthood spoke of how I would be working FOR HIM I stopped in my tracks.  Later when I learned that the women deacons in this denomination ARE NOT PAID for the work they do even though they were doing EVERYTHING for the priest and even stood in for HIM when he was out of town, I ran!

After these and many other examples of clericalism in the priesthood I left that discernment behind. True priesthood, after all, has nothing to do with a collar, or vestments, or a perceived position of power. True priesthood doesn’t require that some other man place his hands on your head giving you “the power” to be a source of love in the world. True priesthood is part of our very nature when we seek to be a source of love in the world and to serve the betterment of our world through the sharing of our own unique gifts.

When Our Heroes Fail Us

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

One of the top news articles this week is related to an incident where His Holiness the Dalai Lama (trigger warning) asked a little boy to suck his tongue. The compassionate part of me wants to hope that the Dalai Lama must be suffering from some degenerative cognitive condition to have behaved in such a way. The part of me that worked in the Catholic Church, and had firsthand witness of, and counseled many through the untold horrors of clerical abuse, suspects otherwise.

My experiences in the Catholic Church and otherwise have taught me the dangers of clericalism – no matter what robes the clerics are dressed in.  In the same way that the Roman collar does not make one immune to bad behavior, neither do the saffron or maroon robes of Buddhism. In fact, I’ve witnessed some of the worst abuses of power coming from those who claim to be Buddhist. While religious doctrine might tell us otherwise, no man is God. Therefore, no man is immune to the temptations of power, especially when that power is cloaked in perceived affection. Further, neither a celibate life nor spiritual practice elevates one beyond sensual pleasures, no matter how much one might argue otherwise.

We may never know if mental illness, arrested development, or perversion drove the Dalai Lama’s behavior. What we do know is that this behavior created a wave of shock and horror among those who understand the ramifications of his behavior. We also know that his spokespeople rushed to excuse and then defend the Lama’s actions, “Westerners are looking at this from a Western lens.”  (I call bullshit on that excuse. The Dalai Lama and his fellow monks have been immersed in Western culture since the 1950’s.  They should know better!)  We also know that the vast majority of those following this story are likely in shock and disbelief.  Finally, it is likely that many of the Dalai Lama’s followers and fans are trying to deny that it even happened.

This is what happens when our heroes fail. When those we have placed upon a pedestal reveal their humanness, we are hurled into the process of grief.  First, we try to deny that the event happened.  Then we try to bargain it away. In this bargaining we might try to make excuses for our hero or defend their actions as “really not that bad,” or “no big deal.” We might become defensive toward those who try to point out the so-called hero’s humanness. Once we have moved beyond denial and bargaining and can finally admit that perhaps our hero isn’t so perfect after all, and that the behavior was inappropriate or wrong, then we may become angry. We become enraged over the behavior, and even more so, we feel deeply betrayed which naturally triggers our wrath. We may find ourselves depressed and despondent over the disappointment and sense of betrayal. Finally, we might weep. Weeping for the loss of the hero and weeping for our own lost innocence.

No man is God. And yet, for the past 5000-10000 years, humanity has been putting individuals in the place of God. From tribal priests, to kings, to gurus, to popes, to lamas, to rabbis, to ministers, to movie and TV celebrities, to talk show hosts, to influencers, etc. human beings have turned to those outside of themselves as the source of truth and salvation. Institutions have created mythology, doctrine, and laws around these outside perceived authorities and have actively recruited people to worship them.

Through centuries of (often shame or fear-based) indoctrination, human beings have forgotten that the source of truth is within them and has been all along. While we may see our own truth reflected in the writings of the Dalai Lama, Jesus, Mohammed, Mother Teresa, Marianne Williamson, or Anandamayi Ma, the individual is not the source of that truth. Neither are they a god to be worshipped. Human beings, no matter how holy they are made out to be, are imperfect and flawed. 

Human beings, no matter how spiritual, will fail, and the higher the pedestal upon which we place them, the greater will be their fall. The remedy to this inevitable failure is that we stop making other human beings our gods and embrace the only true source of authority – that which resides within.

As it relates to the Dalai Lama, I pray that if he is cognitively impaired, that he be supported in getting help for his impairment. If he is not, and this was an act of arrested development or perversion, I pray that he, and the Tibetan community around him get the help they need. Even more, I pray for the child that he be assured that the actions of the Lama were wrong, and that his parents and those who care for him provide a safe and loving place where he can process the actions of a man he may have been led to believe was god.

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