Celibacy falling away in practice if not in doctrine

BISHOP Brendan Comiskey must have permitted himself a wry smile when he heard Cardinal Hume's remark this week that the compulsory celibacy requirement for Catholic priests could be relaxed. A similar comment by him last year led to a reprimand from Cardinal Daly and a summons to Rome to explain himself.

I do not know how Dr Comiskey feels about the latest celibacy controversy as he seems to have assumed an uncharacteristic vow of silence since his press conference on his return to Ferns last February, but I must say I felt a profound sense of liberation on hearing Cardinal Hume.

This feeling was occasioned not, by a belief that a change in the celibacy law, in place since the Second Lateran Council of 1139, is now imminent, but rather because the most respected Catholic cleric in western Europe, a man of faith who expresses the truths of that faith with exquisite felicity, has contributed to the ongoing public debate. Among Catholic laity there is a growing consensus that compulsory, celibacy is an inhumane imposition.

At one level, the public scandals, most notably concerning Bishops Casey and Wright, can be explained as occasional lapses from a clerical sexual code that is generally lived. In an imperfect world sexual infidelity will always be a fact of life.

This explanation obscures the reality that while the wall of compulsory celibacy remains intact, its foundation is crumbling. Richard Sipe, who has studied clerical celibacy extensively in America, estimates that two per cent of those who pledge celibacy achieve it. Since 1960, 20,000 have left the active priesthood in America, the majority to marry. At any one time, 20 per cent of priests in good standing are involved in sexual relationships with women.

There is sufficient anecdotal evidence to suggest celibacy is disregarded in third world countries to merit investigation. In the context of this evidence, Cardinal Seper's remark that he is not confident that "celibacy is in fact being observed" sounds like a remarkably laconic understatement.

In the developed world, vocations to the priesthood have plummeted. In Europe, a third of parishes are without a resident priest. Many of those running seminaries say that celibacy is a deterrent to men who might be interested in the priesthood. This year 18 students entered Maynooth to prepare for priesthood, the lowest intake in its 200-year history.

The recent admission of married Anglican clergy to the Catholic priesthood makes clear that Catholic priesthood and marriage are not incompatible. Despite the protestations of church leaders to the contrary, it has opened a door.

All the signs converge to indicate that compulsory celibacy is not working, to borrow from the famous Saatchi and Saatchi poster which helped the Conservatives defeat Labour in the British General Election of 1979.

For the debate to progress, it is necessary to get away from the glare of tabloid headlines on the sexual indiscretions of errant clerics and to hear the voices of those strangely absent from, the debate and whom it most intimately concerns - ordinary priests striving to live a celibate life.

As Father Brian O'Sullivan has well said: "No good purpose is served by trying to pretend that only priests who leave have found celibacy difficult. It is even more unhelpful to pretend that those who stay are all keeping the rules. It is only when we begin to be honest and open about the problems of celibacy for those who do not leave that debate will get anywhere."

I would not like to pre-empt what the voices of ordinary priests speaking honestly and without fear of hierarchal reprimand would reveal, but I suspect they would show widespread dissatisfaction with the compulsory imposition of celibacy.

Most diocesan priests, as distinct from religious order priests who choose to live a vowed life in community, accepted celibacy as part of the price of ordination. In the seminary they were told repeatedly of its value in freeing them for total service of their people.

Beyond these pious exhortations, they were rarely given any formation on how to live a celibate life. In the febrile camaraderie of the seminary, where companionship of a kind was only a cup of coffee or a football game away it was relatively easy to stave off loneliness. Seminary life is a far cry - and maybe cry is the operative word - from the experience of a solitary life in a dark and often comfortless presbytery.

Many priest& would empathise, with the minister in R.S. Thomas's poem whose heart broke "beneath a load unfit for horses". In The Sunday Press last year, the doyen of Irish religious affairs columnists, Father Colm Kilcoyne, expressed a crie de coeur that resonated with many.

"In seven years in Maynooth I never had a minute's advice on, how to live in celibacy and still stay normal and warm. In 35 years as a priest I have never been at a local conference in our diocese when we talked openly and honestly about celibacy.

"We have discussed FAS, school management, divorce, pensions, drugs and emigration until you'd be fit to scream. But never, ever, a session on how to live something that profoundly influences your life."

While there is validity in Cardinal Hume's comment that we live in a sexually-obsessed age, there is equal truth in the observation that today we have a greater understanding of the human completeness that can be achieved in a relationship. It is a truth of which priests are increasingly aware.

What is needed now is an open and honest examination of celibacy, the terms of reference for which should not pre-empt its conclusions. It would reveal the pain and frustration of many priests coping with a condition for which their seminary training ill-prepared them. It would listen to the Christian churches which have a tradition of married ministry. It would examine the financial implications of a change in the law. It would undermine the increasingly popular assumption that celibacy causes sexual infidelity and paedophilia. It would highlight the value of the charism, as distinct from the law - of celibacy in a sexually-haunted world.

Hopefully, this time Rome will not close the door on the debate. You may end the debate by closing the door, but there is no better way of ensuring that those cut off in mid-sentence do not knock again.