A monsignor is to the priesthood what a made man is to the mob: He has proved himself; has paid his dues; is entitled to respect; his loyalty, competence, courage, dependabiltiy is beyond dispute; he carries a quiet gravitas about him; he is no one to be played with; he is serene, calm, gentle and confident in his strenth; he is a stand-up guy, a goodfellow; his word is gold.
MonsignorJim Finnerty, a marvelous priest, spent his last years in residence in our parish and then a nursing home nearby. He told someone I was the only one who called him Monsignor. For everyone, including himself, he was "Father Jim." He was comfortable, friendly, tender-hearted, informal, approachable, kind, non-judgmental, peaceful. Clearly, he was Fr. Jim. Nevertheless, I continued, more purposefully, to call him Monsignor.
It is not just my contrarian conservatism. The word for me carries respect. Jim Finnerty more than deserved it. He was a Vatican II priest in all the best sense. He spent decades in poor neighborhoods of Newark, serving the poor even as he himself was by any mainstream standard poor. He made thousands of visits to local hospitals and prisons, bring the sacraments and consolation. He touched my own family and in-laws over 50 years in parishes in Newark, Montclair and Jersey City. He visited our home to annoint a family member suffering serious mental-emotional torment. A little afterwards he started to improve. Now he is doing marvelously. Did the sacrament have anything to do with it? I think so!
I would visit him, wheelchair-bound, in the nursing home. I always left the visit bouyed up with happiness. He was always at work: often writting letter to friends. He would be in his clericals. He heard confessions and ministered to the residents and visitors like myself. When he said mass, he always delivered a homily that was a model of homelitic brevity, clarity, humour and inspiration. I wanted to get a copy of it. I found it comical that he delivered this perfect, handwritten, thoughtful, wise talk to a group of residents who were all at varying stages of senility and sleepiness. I just know that the angels and saints in attendance enjoyed it with me.
He was a true Monsignor. "Monsignor" is a form, an inner reality. I will give you a phenomenology of it: Steady, stable, and rock solid...emotionally, socially, intellectually, spiritually. Reliable and dependable. Intelligent, often in the academic and practical realms. Confident, strong, dignified. Good sense of humour. Humble; and usually from common, working class roots. Virile. In love with the Church.
Pope Francis discontinued naming such at one point and has since reinstated it with restrictions. The Holy Father has a bit of a chip on his sholder about hierarchy, clericalism and formalism. It is ironic: a monsignor is considered an honorary member of the Popes inner circle and here he is disapproving of it.
But he does have a point. There is the dark side of clericalism: careerism, arrogance, ambition, pomposity, privilege, unrecognized psycho-sexual immaturity, distance from the laity. We are all now living in the dark shadow of Maciel-McCarrick! The pope's changes make sense: now one must be over 65. It should take a while to "be made."
Honestly, I have not personally encountered much of that dark clericalism at its worst. It surely contributed to the priest sex scandal. But the monsignors I have met are remarkable for being at once gifted-intelligent-competent and yet humble and down to earth.
Calling someone Monsignor is a way of saying: Thank you for your service! Thank you for using your gifts so generously and humbly! Thank you for representing in yourself the Church as solid, reliable, enduring, enlightening, inspiring!
Thank God for our monsignors!
No comments:
Post a Comment