In the run-up to the papal conclave that convened this Monday,
the cup of speculation ran over. There were the bets on the
identity of the next pope, but there were also predictions about
what the pontiff-to-be would do, mixed with some stern advice.
Chief among the words of worldly wisdom was the notion that,
really, it’s time to knock off this celibacy business for Catholic
clerics. There’s a priest shortage, after all, and the idea of
celibacy is just weird, inhuman, and likely an invitation to the
worst sort of candidate.
I object. But first, in laying out the case against the case
against priestly celibacy, I should disclose an interest: I am the
son of a Baptist minister and a convert to the Church of Rome. This
fact has given me certain insights to separate the wheat from the
chaff — or, if you prefer, the bull from its product — in the
ongoing debate over priestly nuptials.
It is popular to say that the Catholic Church has no theological
objection to married priests. In a sense, that’s true. Saint Peter
and many of the early church leaders were married and, even today,
the Church does make exceptions. Married Episcopal priests who
convert are allowed to come on as Catholic priests. Some married
Eastern Rite Catholics are allowed to become priests, though their
married status prevents them from attaining the office of
bishop.
But there is one good, practical, and, yes, theological
objection to a married priesthood: It wouldn’t work. Just because
the church hasn’t raised the discipline of priestly celibacy to the
level of a dogma does not mean that there isn’t good reason for
keeping that discipline in force.
Start with economics. Some priests take vows of poverty. And
those diocesan priests who don’t take vows of poverty might as
well. According to statistics provided by the U.S. Department of
Labor, parish priests can expect to make between $15,000 and
$18,000 a year, plus housing and benefits. Most priests do not live
as though they are impoverished, but try raising a family on that
salary, even if the missus has a job.
The Church could cough up this money, but it would have to come
from somewhere. Married priests would mean cuts in Catholic
education, cuts in Catholic charities, fewer new parishes. This
might be a small price to pay to convince more people to become
priests, but it would probably have the opposite effect.
Why? Because a married priesthood would set the dominos
crashing. Remove the vow of celibacy and there goes the vow of
poverty. The vow of obedience isn’t far behind. It may be annoying
to order a 35-year-old priest to travel across the country or
across the world on a new assignment, but he knew what he was
getting into. But a 35-year-old priest, married with four children,
has obligations to his family that may at times eclipse what he
owes his church — and rightly so.
Then there’s the implementation. The Church wouldn’t go from an
unmarried priesthood to a married one by telling priests that they
can start dating. Instead, Rome would allow married Catholics to
study for the priesthood and tell current priests that they are so
out of luck. Many priests would find this situation hard to bear.
Some would jump ship.
The scheme that most people superimpose over the priesthood is
the Protestant model. What works for the descendants of the
Reformers should work for Catholics too. There are two problems
with this approach.
One, the priesthood is more demanding. With daily Mass, often at
multiple parishes, a rigorous regimen of prayer and contemplation,
confessional duties, hospital duties, and the general demands of
ministry and administration, most priests would be de facto married
to the Church, even if that was not formalized in the discipline of
celibacy.
Two, the Protestant model is far from perfect. Every year,
Protestant seminaries mint more new pastors than their Catholic
counterparts, but the mold doesn’t necessarily stick. Good figures
are not easy to be had but, anecdotally, I know many more pastors
who have called it quits after a few years — often for family
reasons — than priests who have decided to hang up their
collars.
Right now, the decision to become a priest is a transformative
experience. Those who travel down that road give something up in
order to live a life of service to Church and man. Would-be
reformers want to lower the price — to make the tradeoff less
steep. Far better, I think, would be to convince more young
Catholics that this is the kind of life they should want.
