People come in different shapes and colours – so do priests. Maltese priests are still numerous, but in other countries priests are becoming extinct. Yet there is a new breed that is coming up – more Christ-centred, assertive and idealistic.
My fellow priests are my friends. Friends are to be treasured. When I was ordained a priest we were a group of 50 young men ordained together on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of my bishop.
The bond created during the eight years of formation together is sacred.
When I meet someone with whom I spent some time in a residential house of formation I feel at home with him – even after many years.
When I think and pray for my fellow priests I am impressed how much good there is in this world. I am amazed that the young university footballers of yesterday have grown up as mature adults, community leaders scoring for their team.
Many priests I know are very dedicated to their work. They are the refuge of so many.
When I visit old priests at Dar tal-Kleru, Birkirkara, I contemplate that these same leaders of communities who were very active until a few years ago are now practically abandoned by the multitudes they served.
Some would remain alone if it was not for their own family members or extended families.
Some religious people who have spent the prime time of their vocation in a convent would still remain alone as their companions are too busy doing apostolate work; as if visiting old friends is not part and parcel of a genuine vocation – and a testimony to a world inundated with hollow sermons.
Priests are fragile too. Some of us are on the verge of being burnt out. We need to love and to be loved. The rhythm of some of our work is exhaustive, and eventually counter-productive. Very often, priests are crying out for help and a shoulder for support.
Very often priests are crying out for help and a shoulder for support
But there is no one except spiritual gurus to repeat the prayerful mantras that leave you worse. I don’t believe in spiritual love; love is either love or it’s a camouflage of love.
I believe in prayer and in the Eucharist. But sometimes these are given as ‘remedies’ for a priest’s frustrations. Frustrations are the result of expectations. And there are legitimate expectations of every healthy priest.
Talking to fellow priests I feel that there is a long way to go. Unless soldiers are well-prepared and feel they belong, any battle one thinks they are going to win will result in failure. Only compact, tender loving care, also with Jesus, that gives hope.
Some of these 50 priests who were ordained together have died or were killed in a foreign country while on duty, or simply moved on. Some are sick and in a wheelchair.
These are the unsung heroes, witnesses of a deeper reality.
Other colourful priests are familiarly known as ‘tal-kurja’.
The Curia, the Archbishop’s entourage, is very often maligned. Everything that goes wrong in a diocese has to have a scapegoat. People in the Curia are a soft convenient target.
I happen to know quite a lot of them. No one has opted to work in the Curia.
Many of them are there just because they want to fulfil the vow of obedience to the Archbishop. Many of them, I know, are eager to continue pastoral work in the parishes, outside the Curia structure.
Obviously I cannot vouch for everyone. Life has many colours. And some in life are unreliable, Machiavellian, and genuinely believe that their school of thought is infallible; all the rest are a threat to orthodoxy.
It is my opinion, that like all those who work in the parishes, it is healthy to move on from time to time, to take part in renewal courses, to change, to move to greener pastures. Challenges are healthy and guarantee growth. Stagnation brings bad omens.
A renewed vision is not produced by a subculture of same elite.
It ought to be the normal praxis that every five or six years there is a normal exchange of roles with a period of reflection before beginning the new assignment.
After five years, indeed, governments resign to place themselves under the scrutiny of the people. I cannot understand why some people in the Church seem to be indispensable and are proud to present themselves as such.
There is no place any more for musical chairs or immovable furniture.
Fr Colin Apap is co-founder of Moviment Era Ġdida.
Lino Spiteri’s column is not appearing this week.