The Wounded Priest

Three of my dearest priest friends died in recent years, each of them shamed and stripped of priestly perogatives because of credible sexual allegations. Each cherished his priesthood; each was gifted in extraordinary ways; each was a cherished collaborator of mine in different periods of my life; each was very close to my heart; each did much good. Yet a sadness hangs heavy over their memory. They lived and died without a happy resolution to their suffering. It is a Mystery!

Perhaps that is why I find myself this morning considering a type I know and love well: the wounded priest. This is the priest who quietly suffers his sadness, a sadness which is deep, mysterious and incomprehensible even to himself. It may involve anxiety, depression, social nsecurity. It may manifest itself in dysfunctional, toxic or self-destructive behavior: typically alcoholism in the Church of my youth; homosexuality in the Church of the last 50 years. It is a sadness that does not resolve itself: largely invulnerable to therapy, 12-step work, good friendship, sound theology, and even prayer. A psychologist might suggest a kind of "structural damage" to the psyche: a deep disorder immune to cure and even treatment.

In an earlier essay I wrote about the "Maverick Priest." Many mavericks are wounded, and many wounded are mavericks; the two coincide in many priests. But they are quite distinct. A maverick need not be wounded and a wounded need not be maverick. There seems, however, to be a common sensitivity, depth and vulnerability underlying both.

The wounded priest is quiet: Not a dissenter; Not a Culture Warrior; Not a Social Justice Crusader. Those types are aggressive, confident, indignant, (self?)righteous, strong in judgment against injustice exterior to themselves. The Wounded Priest is mute, introverted, humble, meek.

At its best this sadness moves into the desolation of the spiritual "Dark Night" and becomes a path to sanctity. Classic examples: the striking Javier Bardem priest in "To the Wonder", "Diary of a Country Priest," and the clerical alcoholics in "Power and the Glory" and "The Edge of Sadness." In such cases, there is no moral victory of the will over weakness! On the contrary: the suffering persists; the protagonists remains a victim to hostile forces beyond his control. Rather, in a mysterious manner, there is an enduring, a surrender, a serene acceptance of the "wound in the flesh" (St. Paul) such that the misery prevails but a gentle, subtle Mercy emerges. A wise young man (my nephew Brendan) once told me: "Some things just must be suffered."

Oftentimes the wounded priest becomes more of a deficit than an asset to his bishop or superior as he, like the maverick, does not fit into the system. His suffering may involve a negativity that can be contagious. He may have to be sequestered where he an do minimal damage.

An emblematic figure for me is the late Brennan Manning: ex-priest, gifted writer and speaker, he left the priesthood to marry and then divorce, and finally succumbed to alcoholism. To the end however he fiercely prolaimed the Gospel of the love of Christ for each sinner, preisely in his sin. He pushed Catholic theology to the limit. But I cherish his message. There are among us many who are so broken that there really is no hope, in this life (there is always Hope) for wholeness and healing. His last years entailed evangelization behyond the boundaries of the Catholic Church. But I understand he had a Catholic burial at St. Rose's in Belmar. That last Eucharist sealed his life and his message.

It is a Mytery of suffering and tragedy...the Wounded Priest. Futile suffering, failure and frustration, incurable pain. We do well to pray for them:those who have passed and those here with us even now.