The Decay of Gravitas
July 21, 2011
IN TWO articles posted at Tradition in Action last year (here and here), Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira, now deceased, reflected on the decay of gravitas in the modern Catholic clergy. He illustrated his points with numerous images, including the photo above and a painting of St. Dominic by Fra Angelico.
Of the priests above, he wrote:
Note the optimism of these priests. For these poor men nothing is elevated any more. Should someone try to speak to them about the sublimity of God, he would be looked at askew. For them life is a cloudless horizon. Their main concern is to joke, which is the lowest level of amiability: to make others laugh. They do not want to see that the Church is going through the most apocalyptic time of her existence.
Do these poor men have an idea of what it means for us laymen to persevere in the Catholic faith and morals? Do they have any notion of the fights, persecutions and adversities we have to face in order to remain faithful? Do they think that they will guide people to practice virtue with this attitude? They imagine that this is what they are doing and that everyone is following them; they believe they are conquering the world. But they are not. They are helping the Church to lose her credibility.
Imagine a man like this in a public square telling his jokes to the people. Do you believe people would follow him as they followed St. Bernardino of Siena as he preached, changing places in the square so as not to lose a single one of his words? No. People do not take this kind of priest seriously.
According to a legend, an Angel once appeared to St. Jerome and scourged him for his attachment to the classic authors of Pagan Antiquity. One would say that these men need to be scourged by an Angel for them to change their spirit of endemic optimism.
As this selection of pictures on the decay of the clergy’s mentality and attire through the centuries comes to an end, I offer this conclusion: From the times of St. Dominic in the 13th century until today, the mentality of the clergy, generally speaking, changed from being serious and grave, turned principally toward the glory of God in heaven and on earth, to a mentality turned toward pleasing men. We saw how the clergy had faith, but subordinated that faith to the service of their Kings. Then, as in this last picture, the vice of imitating secular manners and pleasing men reached an apex that transformed innumerable members of the clergy into optimistic jokers, who no longer represent Christ to the faithful. Their attires followed an analogous path.
— Comments —
JAMES P. writes:
They look like they’d endorse the “Buddy Christ” from the movie Dogma.
Crucified Jesus, depressing and outdated! Buddy Christ, happy and uplifting!
J.C. from Detroit writes:
I do fully understand and fully agree with everything said about the loss of dignity and seriousness among the Catholic clergy. However, something needs to be added. This portrait of the agreeable, super-friendly, upbeat, over-optimistic (and oblivious) priest is correct. We have all seen them. We even know them. But why are they that way? Why? I would say that it is, at least in part, because we insist they be. We insist they be like politicians: positive, responsive, agreeable, even unctuous, there to serve us (not priestly service, mind you, but the kind of service we expect from utility companies and retail outlets). We insist they be our friends and supporters, not a pastor who guides and corrects. We don’t want to be corrected, or told how to behave in the sanctuary, or told the rules regarding Sacraments, or told “no” about anything, really. We call them by their first names: Fr. Bob, Fr. Jim. We expect them to put on a swimsuit and participate in the dunk tank at the parish festival. Or dress up like Santa Claus. Or wear red, white and blue vestments on the 4th of July. We want lively music, interesting programs and lots and lots of Fr. Steve smiling and saying flattering and convivial things.
I know you don’t really want this. Neither do I. But many do. The pressure to be superfriendly, supernice, supercasual and, therefore, completely non-threatening, is immense. Guys in seminary who attempt to capture and emulate the dignity and nobility of the priesthood are usually branded as rigid. Those who insist on an exacting proclamation and practice of the truth are called harsh or legalistic. The many social engagements in seminary life are there, at least in part, to encourage amiability and conformity. Priests must learn to be nice.
The priests of today are products of the surrounding culture: Catholic and secular, both of which are in full decline. It is not surprising that they reflect who we all want them to be.
That’s why I wish that this Fr. Tom would stop going on and on about abortion and all those unpleasant things like sin and hell. I want to hear about how much God loves me and wants to help. Just like Fr. Dave used to be. He was so sweet.
Laura writes:
You are right that the serious priest risks his popularity. You are absolutely right. But priests shouldn’t seek popularity or take their tone from the surrounding culture.
I once attended a funeral mass during which the priest grinned broadly almost the entire time. As at most funerals, there were many people there who were not practicing Catholics. I imagine they came away not with a feeling of persuasive welcome, as the priest’s grins were intended to create – “Hey, guys, isn’t this fun and non-threatening?” – but probably with a a sense that they were not missing anything of consequence.
Kimberly writes:
These priests are the spouses of the Feminist Catholic Church. There are still good priests out there who guard and nourish the Roman Catholic Church. But they are not these men. These are the comfortable gopher husbands of the church, described in a recent post of yours about why men promote feminism. They have big-screen TVs and fancy golf equipment. They laugh and joke and smile in public, but at home they are grouchy and drag their feet. Lots of people say they are wonderful, but people who know them best say they are strange.
These are the priests who don’t want their authority. It is too much responsibility and they aren’t looking to become heroes. The best way to know a real priest from a feminist priest is through the sacrament of confession, especially if you make your confession face to face. Even in using the most modest, simple terms and wholesome language, if you make a sincere confession about an ugly sin, a happy-go-lucky priest will either turn bright red and rush to end it or act extremely superior and annoyed, and encourage you to go to a different confessor. A real priest will guide you like a loving father would, whether it takes patience and kindness or admonition. And then there are plenty of the in-between types, the confused ones still unsure of which side they’re on, who do a little bit of both. This has been my experience, anyway. Sadly, the real priests are far and few between. But to know even one is the difference between life and death. One priest like this will do more good than ten-thousand of these phony ones. They deserve great reverence, love, and support, especially through obedience.
James P. writes:
This vicar is not a Catholic, but suffers from the same syndrome discussed in the thread. He has decided to edit the Bible to remove the “negative, nasty bits.” Note that the most cogent response the Church hierarchy has made is to warn the vicar that “his actions could cause offense”:
The Rev Geraint ap Iorwerth cut up pages from the King James Bible and burnt the ‘negative, nasty bits’. The artwork was then mounted on a 9ft-by-7ft board and displayed in church.
Mr ap Iorwerth, 60, of St Peter ad Vincula Church in Wales, said: ‘I cut out all the nasty bits of that Bible, the language of which is being celebrated this year, because I don’t think you can separate it from the God it is representing.’
The Bishop of Bangor has warned Mr ap Iorwerth, who describes himself as a ‘bolshie b*****’ on his Facebook page, that his actions could cause offence.
