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The Blessed Virgin Mary's Role in the Celibate Priest's Spousal and Paternal Love | Monsignor John Cihak, S.T.D. | Ignatius Insight
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Introduction [1]
I wrote this article more on
my knees than at my desk. It began with jottings from mental prayer over the past
year. When I finally sat down to assemble them into a coherent whole, I had a
pile of Post-It notes and scribblings on the last pages of Magnificat issues – a collection of my own pensées. This
article is entitled, "The Blessed Virgin Mary's Role in the Celibate Priest's
Spousal and Paternal Love." [2] I will
argue in the following pages that Our Lady plays an essential and indispensable
role in the development of the priest's masculinity, especially its spousal and
paternal dimensions, and the manner that masculinity is lived out in celibate
love. [3] In other words, I want to show how Our Lady helps the priest become a
husband and father as a celibate and thus come to fulfillment as a man.
The Recent Challenges and the Perennial Condition
I offer this reflection in
the here and now of the 21st century Catholic Church in America,
institutionally still reeling, I suspect, from the revelations of clerical
misconduct that have shamed us, exposed us to ridicule and derision, and have
also called us to accountability. However, one easily overlooked dimension of
the recent challenge we have faced is the departure from active ministry of
those who are called "JPII priests" (John Paul II priests). After we thought
the 60s, 70s and 80s were over, we have had a discouraging repeat of attrition
of priests from active ministry. I have known several of them who have
subsequently attempted marriage, or suffered alcohol and drug problems. These
are not dissenting priests. These "JPII priests" are committed to the Church
and the priesthood and espouse the orthodox faith and the Church's disciplines,
including clerical celibacy.
Why is this happening? One
obvious answer is that intellectual orthodoxy, while necessary, is not
sufficient for perseverance in the priesthood in these times. Another obvious
answer is to place much blame on the culture and the state of family life. Many
of these men who have come unmoored in their vocations have suffered from the
effects of our culture of divorce, abuse, materialism and sexual license. A
third answer is the deplorable example for many men given by their own fathers,
who teach through their own behavior that to be a man means sexual conquest. A
man, in this view, does not need to take responsibility for his actions, and is
responsible to no one. Young men come to prepare for the priesthood with much
more relational brokenness than in previous generations. I believe these
answers are true, but do not go deep enough.
Perhaps more subtly
considered the "JPII priest" attrition is simply a recent example of the
perennial struggle for the celibate priest in his affectivity and
relationships, in his heart and most especially in his spousal and paternal
love. To put it simply, how are all those natural desires—including
erotic desires—to be a husband and father supposed to function in the
priest's free promise of celibacy? The answer that some ex-priests in the 1970s
offered was that those desires have no place in celibacy and therefore the
discipline of celibacy should change. The argument was that the discipline of
celibacy prevented a man from fully developing as a man. When it was perceived
that the Church would not change the discipline, they left. But this answer is
too superficial for the deep mystery that is the celibate priesthood.
Nevertheless the clash is felt deeply in the heart of a man called to celibacy
in the priesthood. The gap appears not in the alignment of one's intellect to
the truth of priestly celibacy, but how this truth of priestly celibacy becomes
enfleshed in the priest's heart and in his relationships as a man.
Pope Benedict has given us
an initial stab at the challenge in Deus caritas est in his treatment of the relationship between eros and agape and the transformation of disordered eros into an ordered eros that provides the vitality for agape love. [4] In the case of the celibate priest, it is
the transformation of his disordered eros into a truly spousal and paternal love that is expressed in his
celibate agape.
Can this happen? I think we would all say, Yes. But how does this happen? There is nothing automatic about
it, and there are many potential pitfalls. Careerism, illicit relationships,
alcoholism, drug abuse, exotic vacations, collections of various kinds,
pornography and the flight into television and the Internet are simply
inadequate ways of grappling with a mystery that lies, I would argue, at the
very heart of the priesthood, and which we will explore in a moment. Because of
our fallen nature, there is need for a deep healing of eros in the heart of every man. I suggest that we are
still coming to terms with this challenge in our human and spiritual formation
programs, and are only beginning to come literally to the heart of the matter.
I propose that Our Lady plays an indispensable role in the transformation of
the priest's masculinity, and the foundation for all that is said in this
article lies in the important work of John Paul II in his Theology of the Body
and Benedict XVI in Deus caritas est.
The Four Major Dimensions
of Priestly Masculinity and Feminine Complementarity
Being a man involves a set
of four basic relationships, which comprise the four basic dimensions of his
masculinity. Through these four basic relationships a man develops, matures and
attains to male fulfillment. Each dimension is important for his development in
becoming an integral man and thus being able to become a holy and effective
priest. As Pope John Paul II taught, the priest's human personality is at the
very heart of a fruitful priesthood; it is the human bridge that connects
others with Jesus Christ. [5]
These four relational
dimensions of manhood are son, brother, husband and father. The first two
dimensions (son and brother) are necessary preparations for manhood and the
last two (husband and father) bring about the fulfillment of manhood. In other
words, a man must be a good son, then a good brother, then a good husband and
then a good father to become a good man and attain his fulfillment as man. All
four together are necessary to attain mature manhood, and never is any
dimension left behind. To be a good father a man still needs to be a good son,
if possible to his earthly father, and surely to his heavenly Father, with Whom
he should live in a relationship of divine filiation. Each relationship,
nevertheless, brings its own peculiarity and focus. We know as well that in
this broken world, not every man has healthy relationships with parents and
siblings. Nevertheless, we can talk about these dimensions even if they do not
always function well in this life. Much could be said about each dimension; for
the purposes of our discussion we will focus on the final two dimensions as
lived out in the celibate priesthood.

According to the theological
anthropology revealed in Holy Scripture (primarily Gen. 1-3, Mt. 19:3-12, Eph.
5:21-33) especially as interpreted and developed by John Paul II, man is in an
essential, indispensable relationship with woman. They are equal in dignity, both made in the image
and likeness of God, and complementary in mission. Being made in the divine
image, both were made for self-giving love. God alone fulfills a man, yet the
Lord has willed that this fulfillment happen through a man's relationship with
woman. [6] This is to say, man cannot attain mature manhood without the help of
woman and vice versa. Adam's solitude (Gen 2:20) taught him that he cannot
attain fulfillment by himself; we could also say that he cannot do it in
relationship only with other men. In the same way woman cannot attain her
fulfillment alone or only with other women, but only through the complementary
relationship with man.
A corollary to this truth of
male-female complementarity is that we must reject false philosophical
anthropologies often implicit in the psychological sciences (and that sometimes
surface in our human formation programs), most especially Freud's idea that
every human person is bi-sexual, a hermaphrodite, containing both male and
female within himself. This idea, which Freud never substantiates but considers
part of his "metapsychology" (a mythic presupposition), is perpetuated today by
the gay and transgender movements in this country. Biblical revelation and even
DNA say otherwise. A man is man from his image of God all the way down to his
very chromosomes; a woman is woman from her image of God all the way down to
her very chromosomes. The truth is that human beings were made for
relationship, made to come out of themselves and develop as a man or woman
through a complementarity that lies outside of themselves. Man and woman were
made for each other so that each would help the other to attain fulfillment in
his or her nature. Thus the ideal in any psychological healing is not to try to
recover some primal monadic, hermaphroditic existence, but to cast oneself
forward, outside of oneself in love, and this can only happen in relationships
– for man and woman with God and man and woman with each other.
Through this essential and
complementary relationship with woman, a man in the natural order can grow in
his four dimensions as son, brother, husband and father in order to attain full
maturity. A son has a mother, a brother hopefully has sisters and brothers, a
husband has a wife and together they become father and mother. In the order of
nature, we can begin to see the importance of women in the development of the
priest as a man: his mother and his sisters help to lead him into maturity as a
good son and brother. A man's relationship with his mother begins in utero where as son he begins to become attuned to his
mother, her heartbeat, her bodily processes, her movements, her emotions; we
could say even her soul. In infancy, it is hoped, at some point the mother's
smile awakens him to self-consciousness. Her smile gives him his awareness in
the midst of her feminine love that he is a unique person. The beauty,
goodness, and truth evinced in the mother's smile awakens in the child an
awareness of the beauty, goodness, and truth of the world, and by analogy, of
God. [7]
Psychiatry and neurobiology
describe this as a process of "secure (healthy) attachment," a subtle
attunement between mother and child which is essential for normal brain and
psychological development, as well as normal spiritual development, especially
in those crucial first five years of life. This relationship continues in
childhood where a boy continues to learn how to be a son and eventually a
brother. In all of this development the mother's (and sisters') role is neither
as an object to be used, nor as being overprotective or cultivating a
"womanish" affect in her son – all of which would be a collapsing of the
masculine-feminine complementarity. The healthy son or brother does not
identify with the mother or sister in such a way that he imitates her
femininity (e.g., in imitating effeminate characteristics himself); rather, he
relates to her as truly an "other" with whom he, in his masculinity, can relate
through a process of complementary, self-giving love.
A man's mother is his primal
relationship to the feminine out of which he grows in all his relationships
with women. Of course his father and brothers, if he has them, have essential
roles as well, especially in how his father treats his mother. In his father, a
man finds the primary masculine response to feminine complementarity; the
father hopefully confirms it: cherishing his wife, loving her, and giving
himself over to her. A mother also prepares her son for his wife.
In marriage, a man's wife
changes him. He practices giving himself in love to her. He allows himself to
be determined by her. He must attune himself to her, and she engages his heart
and helps to develop his eros
into agape love. As a man, he
desires to protect her, to provide for her, to give her children, to do mighty
deeds for her, to cherish her and shower his affection upon her. Of course this
describes something ideal, and does not automatically happen in marriage. But
the reader can see what I mean.
The Blessed Virgin Mary's
Role in the Celibate Priest's Attainment as Husband and Father
In the life of grace, we
immediately grasp Our Lady's role in helping a man be a good son. As the
archetype of Mother Church she gives birth to him and nurtures him through
grace. She plays an essential feminine role in leading him to relate to the
Father, her Incarnate Son and the Holy Spirit. She teaches her sons about trust,
surrender, and the acceptance of weakness and poverty without self-hatred. She
cultivates in her sons the spirit of childhood. But what about the last two
dimensions for the celibate priest? In the natural order, a man's wife helps
him develop into a husband and father. I suggest that in the order of grace,
the Blessed Virgin Mary assumes this role in a very real, though nuanced way.
When it comes to developing
the spousal and fatherly dimensions of his masculinity, we cannot help but see
the Freudian in the audience raise his hand in objection that the idea that the
Blessed Virgin Mary helps bring about the celibate priest's fulfillment as
husband and father is simply rife with Oedipal "stuff". I think our response
to such an objection begins with the distinction between the Blessed Virgin
Mary and the Church; she is a type of the Church, in fact, she is the archetype of the Church. Mary is not the spouse of the
celibate priest as the Church is. Our Lady is the spouse of the Holy Spirit,
not her Incarnate Son. There is nothing Oedipal going on here if we understand
the relationships correctly, and understand them in symbolic and spiritual
terms and not in a crude, literal way. Moreover, we cannot forget that the
concrete form of the priest' spousal love is a celibate love.
With this distinction, allow
me to be a bit provocative. Our Lady herself, in a very concrete way, brings a
celibate priest into his spiritual marriage with the Church and his spiritual
paternity as he participates in Christ's spousal relationship to the Church.
She engages him deeply in his masculine heart, even in his eros, with her feminine love to bring about this
transformation in her priest from a disordered eros to an ordered eros and celibate agape.
The Central Mystery: The
Cross
This complementary
engagement of the Blessed Virgin Mary's feminine love with the priest's
masculine love happens within the central mystery of the priesthood: the Cross,
and specifically in the scene of Our Lady and St. John at the foot of the
Cross. Call to your imagination the scene: there is Our Lord nailed to the
Cross, bloodied and broken in His passion. At the foot of the Cross, we find
Our Lady and the only priest who stood with Our Lord eis telos (Jn. 13:1), St. John. The Blessed Virgin Mary is in
utter agony; both she and His priest are being interiorly drawn into His
crucifixion.
There is so much silence
around this mystery. We are basically only told the geographical facts of the
scene. Jesus is the one who sets it all in motion with His gaze: "When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom
he loved standing near, he said..." (Jn. 19:26). It begins with a gaze from our
Lord seeing His Mother and His priest. None of the Lord's words in the Gospels
are superfluous, especially those he uttered while upon the Cross. Therefore,
these words from the Cross are some of the most important words uttered to Our
Lady and one of His first priests.
She hears, "Woman, behold
your son" (Jn. 19:26). He calls her "Woman", not "Mom". Feel the distancing.
These words must have been especially painful for her. As mother all she wants
is to be close to Him and even to die with Him so that she can be close to Him.
"Woman" isolates her from Him. He pushes her away, not in cruelty, but so that
she can become the New Eve, the mother of all those who would live eternally.
Her agony is the labor pains giving birth to the Church. Here the distinction
between Our Lady and the Church, which should never be a separation, is perhaps
a little more pronounced. Here she is giving birth to the Church, acting as
Mother of the Church, through her interior agony.
St. John is at her side. It
is no coincidence that a priest of the new covenant stands at the Cross with
Jesus. St. John also is undergoing his own interior crucifixion, being
conformed as priest to the Cross of the eternal High Priest. Perhaps we can
sense St. John's helplessness. There is no worse feeling for a man than that of
helplessness. What words could he utter seeing her in such agony? The sword
piercing her Immaculate Heart is going through his priestly heart as well. This
is not some heroic charge to victory. It is blackness, loneliness, a dark
night; it is the whole messed-up incongruity of the collision between love and
sin. It feels like and is death.
"Then Jesus says to the
disciple, 'Behold your mother!'" (Jn. 19:27). At this moment, Jesus asks the
Apostle in the depth of his own pain to attune himself to her. As priest, he
must decide to put her first, attune himself to her heart. He must put her
suffering ahead of his own. I imagine St. John turning toward Our Lady, and
looking at her with such tenderness and reverence. Jesus sends His command deep
into the heart of his priest, "Look at her...receive her...take care of her." As a
man, he must feel helpless and inadequate, but now he has been given a manly
task. St. John is commanded to care for her, to comfort her, to hold her, to
protect her because she is so alone and vulnerable at that moment. Such a
command would resonate deeply in the heart of such a man: he must look beyond
his pain and accommodate himself to her, and have all that is best about being
a man rise up within him in a great act of celibate agape. The choice to be attentive to her pain brings him
to the threshold of entering into his spousal love and paternity as a celibate,
as the Church is coming to birth.
I like to meditate on that
scene, pondering the eyes of Our Lady and St. John as they meet in their mutual
agony. Neither of them seems to have Jesus anymore. At that moment she needs
St. John; she also allows him to help her. She is so alone at that moment. She
who is sinless allows her great poverty of spirit to need this man and priest
beside her. Her feminine complementarity draws out the best in St. John's
masculine heart. The need for his support and protection must have connected to
something deep within him as a man. How does he help her? St. John says that he
then took her "into his own" (in Greek, eis ta idia). What does this mean? "His house," as many
translations read? "His things"? What about "everything that he is"? Perhaps it
indicates that he takes her into his life as a priest.
She also is supporting him.
He is depending on her in that moment for he too is so alone. I wonder if he
felt abandoned by the other apostles. She leads the way in sacrificing herself,
for her feminine heart is more receptive and more attuned to Jesus'. She is not
only present but leads the way for him, helping the priest to have his own
heart pierced as well. There is much here to ponder as she engages his
masculine love. He gives himself over to her, to cherish her and console her.
At this moment she needs him and needs him to be strong, even if she is the one
really supporting him.
The Blessed Virgin Mary's
role is to call out of the priest this celibate agape to help him become a husband to the Church and a
spiritual father—a strong father, even in his weakness. She does this at
the Cross by drawing the priest out of his own pain to offer pure masculine
love in the midst of her own pure feminine love. This scene becomes an icon of
the relationship between the priest and the Church. The priest hands himself
over to the Church in her suffering and need – to have his life shaped by
hers. At the foot of the Cross the Church agonizes in labor to give birth to
the members of the mystical body. I am struck by the next verse in this passage
from the Gospel of St. John: "After this Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said... 'I thirst'" (Jn.
19:28). It was after this exchange of love at the foot of the Cross that "all
was now finished".
St. Charles Borromeo often
gave conferences to his priests when he was Archbishop of Milan. In the opening
lines of the conference he addressed to his diocesan synod on April 20, 1584,
he draws the connection between the woman of the Apocalypse in Revelation and
Rachel in Genesis to the Church:
She
was with child and she cried out in her pangs of birth, in anguish for
delivery." (Rev12:2).... O what pain, O what wailing of Holy Church! She
cries out with prayers in the presence of God, and in your presence through my
mouth, pronounces divine words to you. It seems that I am hearing her saying to
her betrothed, the Lord Jesus Christ, what Rachel had formerly said to her
husband Jacob, "Give me children or I shall die" (Gen30:1). I am truly
desirous of the one to be born. Indeed I dread this sterility; so unless you
[priests!] come to Christ and give to me many sons, I am precisely at this very
moment about to die. [8]
The implication of St.
Charles' words is that Holy Mother Church cries out to her Divine Bridegroom,
and to the one who participates in Christ's spousal relationship – the
priest, for children. It is at the Cross where the priest in the sting of his
celibacy becomes a husband to the Church and a spiritual father. For the
celibate priest, the Cross is his marriage bed, just as it was for Our Lord.
Read Part Two of "The Blessed Virgin Mary's Role in the Celibate Priest's Spousal and Paternal Love"
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