This article was published in a short-lived student magazine during my time in Ards Friary, at that time the theology house of the Irish Capuchin Province.
(The Open Road, No. 1, March 1968, pp.5-8)
On the 23rd June, 1967, Pope Paul, in response to sustained requests for a re-examination of the role of celibacy in priestly life, issued the encyclical Sacerdotalis Coelibatus. In this letter he re-affirmed the traditional teaching of the Church on this matter, and confirmed the legislation related to it. He described it as an open look ‘at the principal objections against the law that links ecclesiastical celibacy with the priesthood.’(S. C., Par.5)
However, without wishing in any way to question the Pope’s sincerity, it is a real and pertinent question to ask if the encyclical really does this. I believe that it does not. What is really does, in my opinion, is to take an open, frank, fair-minded and penetrating look at celibacy itself, considered as a value in the priestly life, and this is a different matter. A value itself is one thing; the law related to it another. To confuse these two issues is to tender a clear insight extremely difficult, if not impossible, to attain.
Perhaps I should say at this stage that I make no apology for raising this question almost on the heels, as it were, of an authoritative statement from the Vicar of Christ, since not the least of the benefits of Vatican II is that it has promoted a spirit of honest discussion on matters of common interest within the Church. (cf. Church in the Modern World, art. 43; Decree on Laity, art. 29, etc.) The Church does not fear change. It could heartily endorse the statement of the French philosopher Henri Bergson that, ‘for a conscious being, to exist is to change; to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.’
Let us first examine celibacy itself in the priestly life. Vatican II tells us that ‘Christ remains forever the source and origin of their [priests] unity of life.’ The priest, in a special way, by virtue of his ordination, is called upon to re-present Christ in the world. This calls for the total dedication of his life to Christ. Celibacy, voluntarily embraced, is at one and the same time a sign of this dedication and a real concrete expression of it. It is a response to Christ’s own invitation and example, ‘There are eunuchs who have made themselves so for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. He who is able to receive this, let him receive it.’ (Matt. 19.12; also vv. 10, 11) A priest who has the spirit of his vow can truly say, ‘I am not alone, for the Father is with me.’ (John 16.32) he has committed himself unreservedly to the service of him who came to serve. (Church in the Modern World, art. 20) Celibacy, furthermore, serves to underline the unique character of the Christian priesthood particularly in relation to that of the law of the Old Testament. It stresses, too, that Christ’s kingdom ‘is not of this world.’ (John 18.36)
Celibacy, therefore, if undertaken with a proper understanding of its nature and a wholehearted acceptance of its burdens has a truly “Christifying” effect on a priest. It is fundamentally a vow of love. To regard it simply and solely as a renunciation of marriage is to miss its real significance. For this reason, the Popes, in proposing celibacy as a more perfect way, have taken care to emphasise that its acceptance does not in any way imply a denigration of marriage. It is very definitely not the effect of “a bachelor psychosis.” ‘Freedom from the cares of a family can make one free for the cares of all. Here is the heart of the call to celibacy.’ ‘Openness to God demands at all times openness to men… the greatest saints were able to combine both worlds, and this is the reason why their love was so luminous.’ (Cf. F. Wulf, Theology Digest, Summer 1965) In addition, the union of the celibate priest with the celibate Christ aptly symbolizes the union of the Church with Christ. (Decree on Priests, art. 16)
Many other reasons, of which only a few are listed here, could be brought forward in support of clerical celibacy, reasons which, though only of secondary importance, are nevertheless not to be regarded lightly. Some people, accustomed to clerical celibacy, might be unwilling to accept married priests and might regard them as an inferior class. It is reasonably certain, too, that, for many people, the example of a celibate priest is an encouragement to face the difficulties involved in chastity; it is a reproach to the unchaste; it assures people that when a priest calls on them to make sacrifices that he knows what he is talking about; it liberates missionary priests from anxiety about family problems particularly with regard to education; it precludes the possibility of divorce cases which could cause scandal; it removes anxiety which some people have expressed with regard to the seal of confession; and, of course, it must also be borne in mind that marriage is not “all honeymoon.” Lastly, but by no means least, we have the encouraging words of Christ, ‘Truly I say to you, there is no one who has left house… or children or lands for my sake and for the Gospel, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time… and in the age to come eternal life.’ (Mark 10.28-30)
I hope that the preceding has made it clear that I am very far from questioning the value of celibacy in the life of a priest. However, it is at this turning point that misunderstanding is most likely to arise, for when we acknowledge the nobility of celibacy it does not follow that we accept the practical wisdom of imposing it as a universal norm, and, conversely, when we question the law on celibacy we are not questioning the value of celibacy itself.
Firstly, a clarification is necessary. In the words of Pope Paul, ‘virginity… not… required by the nature of the priesthood itself. This is clear from the practice of the early Church and the traditions of the Western Churches.’ (S.C., paras. 17, 38) for example, most of the Apostles were married men, and St. Paul, writing to Timothy, says, ‘a bishop must be above reproach, the husband of one wife.’ (1 Tim. 3.2) “The obligation of celibacy… is in fact added to the order of priesthood by the will of the Church.’
Present-day legislation, however, has the effect of making what Christ proposed as a counsel to be an indispensable condition for the priesthood. Celibacy presents itself as “as price to be paid.” This, furthermore, appears to unite two vocations which are in fact distinct. The Pope’s encyclical recognises the distinction but does not explain why they are united by law, merely saying that for a vocation to be considered definitive it must be tested by superiors in accordance with circumstance of time and place. This is certainly true but it does nothing to clarify the point at issue. Is it not strange also to say that the reception of one sacrament – orders – has the effect of invalidating the reception of another – matrimony? Legislation which places an obstacle between the reception of different sacraments would seem to be of questionable value. It also has the effect of creating an atmosphere of mutual exclusiveness between the two sacraments. Indeed, after the Council of Trent, when the law of celibacy was re-affirmed, there was for a time a theory that orders and matrimony were naturally incompatible.
The present discipline in the Church appears to be an attempt to legislate the ideal into the actual. To impose celibacy as a universal, indispensable condition for the priesthood appears to presuppose that all priests undertake the obligations of celibacy with as much willingness as they do that of the priesthood, and that there are no men who have a vocation to the priesthood without having a vocation to celibacy. Men are not all the same; they cannot all correspond to a standard pattern. This does not make them to be lesser men. Surely, while strongly recommending celibacy as a more fitting accompaniment to the priesthood, there is yet room in the Church for those who wish to combine the priesthood and marriage. An opening such as this could save many a priest from a spiritual and human collapse. (Cf. S.C., paras. 60, 88)
One reason why many well-meaning people oppose any relaxation in the law is their fear that if it is mitigated in any way there would be a veritable stampede to the altar rails! This view, however, does scant credit to the depth of conviction of celibate priests and would indicate that the law, far from freeing them for the ministry, was in fact chaining them to something they no longer desired. If it were true, it would constitute one of the most convincing arguments for a change. Besides, the gradual development of the practice of celibacy within the Church, together with the experience of Protestant and Orthodox, indicates that the majority would remain celibate.
A second argument for the retention of the present law in its entirety is that such a long-standing tradition should not be tampered with. However, to quote Blaise Pascal, ‘If antiquity was the criterion of belief (or of action) then the ancients had no criterion.’ (Pensées) But if we examine the development of the practice within the Church we can see that the reasons adduced in support of it were of great variety. The recommendation of 1 Cor. 7, for example, appears to be presented with the expectation of an impending parousia, ‘I mean, brethren, the appointed time has grown very short; from now on, let those who have wives live as though they had none.’ (v.29) In addition, the attitude of at least some of the Fathers appears to be coloured by a prudish attitude to sexual matters. As a much later date, Pope John XXII (1316-1334) declared in the Bull of canonization of Saint Louis, a bishop, that ‘Woman is more bitter than death.’ It must not be forgotten either that although celibacy was prescribed in some areas as early as 300 AD, it was not universally adopted until well into the 12th century. St. Peter Damian, in his Liber Gomorrhianus, makes it clear that it was not widely practised in the 11th century. I think it is not concluding too much from this to say that arguments from tradition must be examined very carefully.
A married clergy would be a valuable asset to the Church. They could give an excellent example of married life and also be of great assistance to the Church in its task of developing a fuller understanding of marriage. This could forestall some of the criticism about celibate theologians telling married people how to exercise their rights. Likewise it could be a great help to priests who would otherwise succumb to the dangers and pressures of loneliness (S.C., paras. 58-59), not the least of which are a sense of frustration and the development of eccentric habits. A noted psychologist writes, ‘It cannot be mere coincidence that mental homes and sanatoria contain twice as many celibates of both sexes as of married people.’ (W. Demal, Pastoral Psychology, Mercier Press, Cork, p.81)
By way of summary and conclusion I think that while not in any way taking from the beauty or nobility of consecrated celibacy there are solid, cogent reasons for modifying its present legal embodiment.