Rural summer placement: follow-up thread

[bardegaulois]

With my summer placement soon drawing to its close, It seems a good time to begin the follow-up after the fact that I had promised in my May post asking what to expect: Rural parish placement; what to expect?.

First, we must recognize that the pandemic situation has left us with a very unusual summer, with ordinary pastoral activities like liturgies and public meetings rather muted. Thus, I resolved at the start of my placement that I would make no definite judgments this summer, but only record various impressions in my journal that I would bring to spiritual direction, and consider these down the road when times return to some semblance of normalcy if I should be assigned to a like area again. My director has advised me not to ignore these impressions, but only not to give them as much weight as I would during the best of times.

My pastoral supervisor was a pleasant fellow – and very pleased to have some company after the pandemic lockdowns. We found ourselves in accord about much and had easy conversations. The situation of the parish seemed very thorny even before coronavirus, largely due to rural depopulation. the pandemic makes its situation even less promising. Regardless of that, the administrative work continues, taking up even more time than teaching or the sacraments (even in the best of times). On my asking my supervisor why this work couldn’t be given to a lay volunteer, he replied that nobody wanted to do it and so it became his burden. That’s a big problem, likely at many parishes. We’re making efforts and requests to try to get more layfolk to take on this work according to their lay competencies, but it doesn’t seem like it’s working. The aim there seemed more one of survival, rather than of growth or thriving, and in all it felt somewhat Sisyphean.

(To be continued)

 

[bardegaulois]

(Part 2)

The country was very beautiful and picturesque, but I’m not an outdoors type, and thus a few hikes go a long way with me. I can’t admit to having had much interaction with the human geography of the area due to the unusual time. The people I met seemed pleasant enough, but, well, rather parochial. I heard nothing about liturgical or devotional preferences (except from our organist, a genial bloke) nor about matters of great church or cultural or political interest. Nobody talked about their work. Their average age was over 50, and that is skewing young, considering that the very old are still staying at home. Children and adolescents were rare. The 18-40 demographic was non-existent. I could discern a definite character to the communities in the area, but it was difficult for me to see anything within the parish that might have stood out from the one the next town over. Thus, it’s probable that people’s fondness for the parish stemmed more from its role within the community framework than any particularly religious aspect of it. Thus, a potential closure of the parish due to its demographic and financial insufficiency would not be readily accepted as a pragmatic necessity, but met with a great outcry as a slight against the community and its sense of pride.

It felt rather like a long retreat to me rather than like work, I must admit. I’m never bored, but I did frequently find myself longing for campuses and libraries to open again (not that there were any near me). The nearest hub city was over an hour’s drive away, and I found myself there frequently on my day off to meet with fellow seminarians and priests I know, among other friends. Of course, the pandemic has made public life more muted everywhere, but the country felt especially quiet and isolated. I’ll say that it was a benefit, as I learned plenty about the practical realities of a declining part of the diocese. But the general impression that I have at this point is that I’d much rather work in a city or in a larger town, where there are more church and social resources, and I can focus on such things as evangelization, education, and liturgy and not just tread water while trying to stay in the black. The diocese keeps track of every priest and seminarian’s ministerial talents, strengths, and interests and makes effort to assign them appropriately, so I doubt such a placement is in my stars on ordination to begin with, if such churches are still extant then.

Please remember my supervisor, who understands all of this and bears it very stoically, and the faithful there in your prayers.

 

[vsedriver]

The diocese keeps track of every priest and seminarian’s ministerial talents, strengths, and interests and makes effort to assign them appropriately, so I doubt such a placement is in my stars on ordination to begin with, if such churches are still extant then.

Have you ever seen the movie The Cardinal?

 

[bardegaulois]

No, I tend not to watch movies unless specifically recommended.

 

[Glennon_P]

Thank you for the update and your reflections.

I wonder what life would have been like if you had been placed in an urban setting? Covid-19 has drastically curtailed social contact throughout the world - in fact, in urban areas where there are more cases, perhaps even more than a rural setting with few or no cases. Did you fellow seminarians in the more urban locations have any insight?

 

[bardegaulois]

The broader area is far past the pandemic peak, and the cities have begun bustling somewhat again. Still no libraries or campuses, though. Liturgy is quite muted as well, Low Mass being the norm. Commercial establishments are, however, open, allowing people to meet in public places again.

Again, due to this situation, I really only have impressions based on my conversation with my supervisor, our secretary, organist, and sexton, a few of the faithful, and random encounters in the community. It’s not enough data to make any sort of determination, but does provide for an impression that I can bring to spiritual direction.

 

[InThePew]

We’re making efforts and requests to try to get more layfolk to take on this work according to their lay competencies, but it doesn’t seem like it’s working.

Tbh I’d say it’s more of a problem in small and/or rural parishes which don’t have the financial means to support paid staff meaning that an increased administrative burden falls to the parish priest (often the only priest). That said, the role of the priest isn’t simply a mobile sacrament dispenser - stewardship is also important. Even when there’s staff to take on much of much of the administrative burden, the pastor is still ultimately responsible.

The aim there seemed more one of survival, rather than of growth or thriving, and in all it felt somewhat Sisyphean.

This is true of a lot of rural parishes but that doesn’t mean they don’t matter; any sort of cost-benefit analysis needs to take into account spiritual benefits as well as financial. It is about survival and struggle and progress isn’t always obvious. That said, nobody ever said labouring in the Lord’s vineyard was supposed to be easy and this is where the rubber hits the road in terms of priestly ministry.

the general impression that I have at this point is that I’d much rather work in a city or in a larger town, where there are more church and social resources, and I can focus on such things as evangelization, education, and liturgy and not just tread water while trying to stay in the black

Diocesan priesthood is, first and foremost, about being a pastor and not “evangelisation, education and liturgy”. These things exist but on a micro level; I evangelise and educate through encounters, preaching and by attending to immediate needs. “High mass” is something which happens at the Cathedral and places where they have the people, money and talent for a high class choir. You may well spend much of your time treading water, but your parishioners might be too.

The diocese keeps track of every priest and seminarian’s ministerial talents, strengths, and interests and makes effort to assign them appropriately, so I doubt such a placement is in my stars on ordination to begin with

Unfortunately, that’s not quite how things work in reality and is a luxury most dioceses simply don’t have. What you need to ask yourself is how you would feel about being placed in a parish like that - it is, after all, part of your diocese. If what you’re after is campuses, libraries and high mass then you might want to consider whether an order like the Dominicans or Oratorians would be more suitable. Diocesan priesthood is ordinary and about working for the people of God in small, often understated ways. Granted, some priests have the opportunity to be church builders (not nearly as attractive as it sounds) or at the Cathedral with high music and liturgy but very little family life. These are the exception though rather than the rule. Any placement - as a seminarian or (God-willing) priest - is what you make if it; Ars was “Siberia out of season” when Jean Vianney went there. You may well have your preferences but always remember God has the final say!

 

[OddBird]

Thank you very much for the update, @bardegaulois !

The aim there seemed more one of survival, rather than of growth or thriving, and in all it felt somewhat Sisyphean.

Welcome to ministry

I don’t mean that in a snarky way at all. It’s just that this is my daily experience, and the experience of most of the ministers I know (Protestants and Catholics alike). In my part of the world, it’s not specific either to rural parishes. We’re all struggling to survive, and counting every penny at the downtown basilica as well as in the little Reformed congregation up there in the mountains.

There’s a Cistercian monastery not far away which has existed for the past 800 years – 800 years of struggling to survive. Their motto is “Dominus providebit” – and indeed, He does. One learns to see His faithfulness in the waters one is treading.

 

[bardegaulois]

Tbh I’d say it’s more of a problem in small and/or rural parishes which don’t have the financial means to support paid staff meaning that an increased administrative burden falls to the parish priest (often the only priest). That said, the role of the priest isn’t simply a mobile sacrament dispenser - stewardship is also important. Even when there’s staff to take on much of much of the administrative burden, the pastor is still ultimately responsible.

And that indeed is at the very crux of many conversations I’ve had with fellow seminarians and my priest friends: no one got into this to work with balance-sheets, yet that, and not your Sunday homily, is what the chancery is calling you up about. In a jaded moment, a priest once told me that he probably should have gotten an MBA rather than an MDiv, because he’d be doing much the same work for at least triple the salary. It never seems to be the properly clerical work of preaching, praying Masses, hearing confessions, or providing spiritual direction that wears priests out; instead, it always seems to be the paperwork.

While granting that paperwork is a part of just about any job nowadays (and almost always the most displeasing part), there really has to be a point at which a priest (or teacher or cop or what have you) ceases primarily to be a priest and becomes a bureaucrat. I believe our bishop and chancery have become somewhat wise to this lately and factoring this into their future pastoral plan. Alas, as more retirements than ordinations are projected over the next few years, that’s likely to mean more parish closures or mergers, and the smaller, more rural parishes with limited financial and human resources (like that which I am leaving) will be the first to be placed under scrutiny. The shortcomings in donations attendant to the suspension of public liturgies due to coronavirus is only accelerating this process. Many parishes that were on the rocks at the beginning of the year are now past the point of no return, and the diocesan higher-ups must want to ensure that our increasingly limited priest personnel are used in a most effective and fair manner – with, of course, most particular attention given to those parishes and apostolates that are producing the most vocations.

To be continued…

 

[bardegaulois]

Part 2:

I know that many laymen, particularly of the older generations, do not like hearing about this grim reality, whether out of that civic sense that the parish is as intrinsically a part of their town as the post office and volunteer fire department or out of sheer habit forged in the days when Fulton Sheen was on the television and vernacular languages first started to creep into the liturgy. That generation, though, is passing away, and as it accounts for most of those filling our pews now, our churches are sure to face rapid depopulation just based on demographic pressures alone over the next few decades. Those under 50, I can assure you, do not hold similar views of their communities or of the church that their elders do, and that will be strongly affecting the way we plan our ministry for the future – especially as you have many middle-aged men in formation now, often having been rejected elsewhere while younger, and who saw how the pastoral and liturgical practice common in their youths led to something of a “lost generation” to the Church whose effects we are now starting to feel strongly. To continue according to that model, thus, whether due to long-established habit or institutional ossification, is but to lose more generations yet and to continue this troubling state of affairs.

In short, any cleric must develop a good relation with his bishop so that he trusts his judgment in making his various ministerial assignments, understands that these are not arbitrary, and obeys by going to where he is placed. But we should also be understanding of how the present situations might be affecting the diocese and her parishes 5, 10, or 20 years down the road in order that we might be very realistic about what we are stepping into.

 

[bardegaulois]

No snark taken in the least.

We do well to ask ourselves, though, when the administrative charge starts to impact our priestly ministry adversely, and what effect that might have on those to whom we minister. Are we primarily priests, or primarily pastoral administrators? That is a question I believe every priest, especially every pastor, should be asking himself.

I should add, as InThePew did, that there is always the option of religious life or membership in a Society of Apostolic Life, but age is a factor there. A diocese will accept a man in his 30s or even 40s (that is, of the “lost generation” I described earlier) for formation. The Dominicans or Oratorians or Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter generally will not. So, later and second-career vocations becoming increasingly the norm in many areas, that is a factor, too.

 

[Glennon_P]

Are we primarily priests, or primarily pastoral administrators? That is a question I believe every priest, especially every pastor, should be asking himself.

A problem for the Church from the beginning that led to the ordination of the first deacons.

More years ago than I care to admit, I had an administrative position in a Church-run agency. I was having lunch one day with a priest friend and he said he’d love to hire someone like me to handle the administrative side of parish and school life so he could focus on the pastoral needs of his people. Sensing a potential job with a priest I really liked and respected, I told him that would be my dream job.

“Well, this is a dream that won’t come true,” he told me.

The reason? Finances. His large urban parish (the largest in the diocese at the time) simply couldn’t afford it.

Alas, I couldn’t work for free and so my dream job was never realized.

 

[bardegaulois]

A problem for the Church from the beginning that led to the ordination of the first deacons.

It’s interesting that we’ve had the order of deacons reinstituted on a permanent basis for 50 years now, and yet this problem has only worsened since…

 

[OddBird]

Are we primarily priests

I’m not a priest, I’m a Reformed pastor, but the issues we face on this point are much the same.

That is a question I believe every priest, especially every pastor, should be asking himself.

And that here is the reason why many of my colleagues leave ministry altogether. They entered the Reformed seminary seeing themselves delivering fiery sermons and converting masses to Christ. They find themselves doing the dishes instead in a shabby parish kitchen until the wee hours of the morning after a parish feast, because only two little old ladies had stayed behind to do it. Or they spend evenings addressing hundreds of letters. Or mornings posting baptism certificates, bringing the collect to the bank, fixing the parish toilet because the plumber is the last option - he’s expensive. Or sitting there with grieving family after grieving family, sometimes faced with such pain and anguish and despair that there are no possible words to be said. Or reviewing the parish finances before the parish council meets. And then preparing a Sunday sermon they’re dissatisfied with because there was so much to do and so little time.

I’m headed to Rome, but if I were to stay, it’s actually because of these moments I get to spend with “ordinary” people - the village’s “little hands”, the bereaved, all these old ladies who have behind them a whole, often thankless, life of service to the parish - which would make me go on.

I don’t get often to evangelise or teach them - in fact, it often goes in the opposite way - but I sometimes think that simply being there for them is one of the most useful things I can do.

I think many of the diocesan priests I know would say the same. It is a beautiful calling.

I will admit I miss having time for “serious” theology. I do, once in a while, but not nearly as much as I’d like.

 

[bardegaulois]

Some great insights to which I will soon respond; alas, the clock is ticking and I will likely be occupied until tomorrow evening or Monday.

 

[Pitcairn17]

Glennon_P:

A problem for the Church from the beginning that led to the ordination of the first deacons.

It’s interesting that we’ve had the order of deacons reinstituted on a permanent basis for 50 years now, and yet this problem has only worsened since…

In my diocese, that would be because some pastors didn’t like deacons, some used them primarily liturgically, and held parish management issues - especially “the books” - close to the vest. And parish secretaries became jealous over their own administrative fiefdoms.

 

[bardegaulois]

And that here is the reason why many of my colleagues leave ministry altogether. They entered the Reformed seminary seeing themselves delivering fiery sermons and converting masses to Christ. They find themselves doing the dishes instead in a shabby parish kitchen until the wee hours of the morning after a parish feast, because only two little old ladies had stayed behind to do it. Or they spend evenings addressing hundreds of letters. Or mornings posting baptism certificates, bringing the collect to the bank, fixing the parish toilet because the plumber is the last option - he’s expensive. Or sitting there with grieving family after grieving family, sometimes faced with such pain and anguish and despair that there are no possible words to be said. Or reviewing the parish finances before the parish council meets. And then preparing a Sunday sermon they’re dissatisfied with because there was so much to do and so little time.

You bring to mind many of the conversations I’ve had with my fellows regarding the four pillars of priestly formation, and how the pastoral pillar is the uncharted territory for all us. We’ve all (and indeed every human has) been involved in human, intellectual, and spiritual formation of some sort for as long as we can remember, but the pastoral element is brand new. And frankly, none have said that they were so much interested in becoming a pastor as they were in becoming a priest. The term seems to have migrated away from spiritual director and shepherd and instead become more synonymous with administrator. I’m not the only one whose experience of priests often considered pastoral was generally of mundane and platitudinous men who failed to inspire. Unsurprisingly, their parishes were quite lacking in vocations.

(To be continued)

 

[bardegaulois]

Part 2

I come from a low-density suburb that one might very easily confuse with a rural area upon first glance. There are Catholic parishes (and other Christian churches) here, but they are all rapidly greying. Does this mean that the young have forsaken the practice of their faith? Not in the least. Before I entered formation, I was involved with an urban Extraordinary Form community. Very few people there came from the parish that hosted us. Most came from suburbs, smaller towns, and rural areas – even in neighbouring dioceses – and noted that they came because the business-as-usual ethos within their local parish did nothing for their faith, and those with children wanted them to grow up with a deeper sense of Catholicity than their local parish could provide. All of this is even when their local priest in question was sterlingly orthodox, and a very pleasant and respectable fellow indeed.

With projected ordinations expected not even to approach half of projected retirements over the next few years, with all parishes and dioceses feeling the pinch that the coronavirus shutdowns put into our coffers, and with the rising generation of priests being less parochial in outlook than their predecessors, it seems like we’ll have a lot of thinking to do over these next few years as to how best to distribute our increasingly scarce resources – both financial and human – in order to forestall a complete decline. Survival of bodies that have passed the point of no return, whatever an increasingly sparer number of people’s sentimental attachment to them, should be considered an investment that no longer returns dividends.