In my commentary last Sunday I appealed for a Church that is able to decipher the image of Christ in art and beautiful human artefacts.
This is a brave Church ready to accompany people in their journeys along the digital highways of contemporary society. So in preparation for the 38th anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood, besides reading some spirituality texts about the priesthood I also leafed through the literature I have on priests in films.
Ironically, while priests featured quite a lot on the silver screen it is significant that the first Church document discussing the cinema, published in 1909 in the name of Pius X, prohibited priests to watch films in cinemas. This diktat remained in place until the first Roman synod held in 1960, which does not mean priests did not go to the cinema before that date.
During these 38 years I learned a lot about myself and about the priesthood. Before I was ordained I shared the feeling expressed by Gregory Peck’s missionary in The Keys of the Kingdom, who confessed that at one point of his life he imagined priests to be “infallibly perfect”.
Throughout the years I thankfully discovered “how frighteningly human we are”, as Peck’s mentor quipped in reaction.
Quite naturally, the way priests were portrayed in popular culture developed over time, reflecting the defining spirit or mood of the day.
In the 1930s and 1940s, Hollywood generally idealised priests, showing them in unrealistic and sentimental hues, such as Bing Crosby’s singing curate in Going My Way. The strength of the American Church, particularly its Legion of Decency, during the studio era, probably explains this positive portrayal.
The sacramental dimension of the priesthood was emphasised from the very beginning. In 1915, D.W. Griffith’s Intolerance prominently featured a Catholic priest administering last rites to a condemned man.
Other films showed the socio-political role of the priest as part of the community he lives in, sharing its hopes and anxieties. Don Pietro martyred by the Gestapo in Roberto Rossellini’s neorealist masterpiece Open City and the Jesuits martyred at the hands of the most Catholic Portuguese emperor in The Mission are just two examples.
As a result of the secularisation of society, priests were no longer a protected species. The new breed of box office priests included those struggling with their sexuality and more.
The Thorn Birds, The Priest and The Crime of Father Amaro manifest such struggles. The child abuse scandal ripped the respectability of the priesthood to shreds in many countries. Alex Gibney’s documentary Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the House of God and Peter Mullan’s The Magdalene Sisters – both award winners – offer a shocking portrayal of abusive Catholic priests at their very worst.
The priesthood is a pure gift given primarily for the sake of the community and not for the sake of the recipient
I find particular inspiration and comfort from The Fugitive, the film of Catholic director John Ford and rumoured to be his favourite cinematic production. During these past 38 years I discovered the truth of the words of Henry Fonda’s hunted priest: “The priesthood is large, it’s tremendous; I was always too small for it.”
The film is loosely based on Graham Greene’s masterpiece The Power and the Glory, which often accompanies me on my annual retreats as it is the best book I have ever read about priests and the priesthood. Greene weaved the story of a priest caught in the Mexican persecution. The priest portrayed in the book was an alcoholic and even fathered a child. However, while the ‘good’ priests ran for their lives this ‘bad’ priest stayed around trying to minister to his flock as best as he could.
He finally did get away to a safer state but was called by someone who said he was dying and wanted to confess. The priest was almost certain that this was a trap. However, he left the safety of his haven and was arrested and, later, shot.
Greene’s novel shows the priest in all his misery and in all his glory. All priests are fundamentally similar: the misery is theirs; the glory is the Lord’s.
As I wrote in a commentary six years ago, being a priest is different to being a doctor, or a lawyer or a carpenter. One holds a profession thanks to one’s talents and hard work. It is one’s merit to be a doctor or a carpenter or whatever. A priest is not a priest because of his merits or hard work.
A priest is not a priest because of personal achievements. He is not a priest because he is the wisest, or the holiest in his community. On the contrary, we are priests in spite of many mistakes we do and sins we commit.
Every day at the beginning of the Mass we proclaim to the community that we sinned. The sins of some are more public than the sins of others. However, sinners we are, all of us.
One is a priest in spite of himself and not because of himself.
The priesthood is a pure gift given primarily for the sake of the community and not for the sake of the recipient. “All is grace” (Bernanos). Consequently, while one can boast of being a doctor or a carpenter one cannot boast because one is a priest. The sensation that a priest has is of a different kind; it is joy. As Joseph Ratzinger writes in one of his books, we are ministers of His joy.
I thank God for every one of the years I have served as a priest and for the many graces He bestowed on me. I beg His and the community’s forgiveness for the many times I failed. My parting shot is the statement made by Alec Guinness’s politically imprisoned prelate in The Prisoner: “Do not judge the priesthood by the priest.”
It is greater and more beautiful than anyone can live it.
joseph.borg@um.edu.mt