Revitalised Catholic Church Attracting More Trainee Priests
By Shane Green
This is striking, counter-intuitive news. For the past decade, the Catholic Church has been shaken by revelations of the sexual abuse of children by clergy, and worse, the covering-up of the crimes and the protection of the offenders. To be a Catholic – let alone a priest – meant dealing collectively with this stain, this shame. The logical conclusion would be a priesthood and church in decline. Yet a different and surprising picture is emerging, partly demonstrated each morning at 6.45am in a pocket of Carlton, where in the bluestone chapel at Corpus Christi, every pew is filled by men called to the priesthood. "This turnaround has been a real surprise I think to us, especially with the bad publicity," says Lane. "But in fact the more bad publicity we've had, the more students we get.
"I think it probably works in a reverse way. It says that we're trying to do something about the problems we've got." Beyond the gates of Corpus Christi, the Catholic landscape is also surprising. Anecdotally, some parishes are even reporting bigger attendances. Something unexpected is going on. My starting point was to discover what it was like to be a Catholic in Australia today. I wondered how much the abuse scandals had shaken the faith of everyday Catholics.
At the same time, there has been the remarkable effect of Pope Francis. In the two years since his election, his impact has been profound, his pastoral approach to the papacy transformational. He has shunned the historical trappings of the office, and embraced the poor and disadvantaged. He has become the rock star pope. How would these forces translate? My personal disclaimer is that I was once a Catholic. It was the full 1960s and 1970s Catholic experience: altar boy, educated by the nuns in primary school, and the brothers in secondary school. The latter was a sometimes violent experience – the sting of the leather strap remains a painful memory – and was among the complex reasons I walked away from the church. That was 35 years ago.
I have watched, then, with a deep shock and sadness the abuse revelations, wondering about the Catholic experience and those who are part of the church. So I searched out everyday Catholics, archbishops, priests and young men such as those at Corpus Christi. For a secular journalist, the answers are sometimes challenging because, more often than not, the explanations provided relate to faith. THE waiting area outside the office of the Archbishop of Melbourne Denis Hart faces a wall that is adorned by a large classical oil painting depicting Christ carrying the cross. Bent on one knee under the weight and strain, there is a hubbub around him, all faces turned away. Except that of the central figure, whose soulful gaze engages the watcher. It is a theme – the trials of faith – that emerges often in my interviews. "It was always the best of times and the worst of times to be a Catholic. There's nothing terribly new about that," says Mark Coleridge, Archbishop of Brisbane, when I ask about the experiences of Catholics over the past few years.
Jesus didn't promise popularity, nor comfort, says Coleridge. On the contrary. "In any time, in any place, the challenges of Christian discipleship are very real, and they are at this time. But each time and each place has its own particular set of pressures and challenges and we've got ours here. "Sexual abuse – and its implications – would be the greatest, but not the only one." The Melbourne diocese and its leaders – Denis Hart and his predecessor George Pell – have been front and centre as the abuse story unfolded, including the criticisms of the failure of the church in dealing with this scandal and compensating victims.
So what does Denis Hart sense amongst the Catholic flock? When he goes around to parishes, there is what he calls an "awful shock and sadness that those who should have been trusted to care for people have harmed them and ruined their lives." "Good lay family people find it even more intense because they have protective relationships with their children," he says. "They can't believe that people whom they should have respected and loved have done these awful, awful things." Yet Hart says the general trust of Catholics in their faith is strong. "There is displeasure at the way things have been handled from time to time, but there is a realisation that we are quite determined and resolute," he says.
Strength of faith is impossible to measure, but certainly, one concrete indication is attendance at mass. Anecdotally, it appears that rather than repelling people, the church in some areas is attracting them. Over Easter, Hart noticed bigger crowds at his Good Friday and Easter Sunday services at St Patrick's Cathedral, up a couple of hundred. Of course, there has been a new dynamic in the Catholic Church. The election of Francis two years ago was revolutionary in that the Argentinian was the first non-European pope in 1200 years. But it has also been his remarkably refreshing approach that is energising Catholics, and attracting the attention of the wider world. The US-based Pew Research Centre tracks the standing of popes, and its recent survey at the end of last year found broad support for Francis across most of the world. Francis was overwhelmingly popular with Catholics, and enjoyed strong support among the general population.
The survey did not include Australia, but there is general agreement the survey findings would reflect the mood here. Archbishop Coleridge says Francis has a simplicity about his vision – a homeliness, a directness, and is not afraid to call a spade a spade. "It's a style we haven't seen in the papacy in living memory." While he hasn't seen a surge in numbers in Brisbane, Coleridge has no doubt of the impact of Francis and the sense of hope he has provided. "I think [for] the vast majority of Catholics, at a time when morale has been taking a devastating blow because of abuse, I think in fact he's been a huge boost for morale in a fairly deep sense." Francis has provided a new sense of hope and therefore possibility. Paul Collins, a Catholic writer, historian and former priest of 33 years, recently attended a meeting in Ireland of progressive Catholics from around the world. Given that there was a sense that the Catholic Church had emerged out of the darkness with Francis, the meeting asked questions about what support they could provide to him.
The nature of the gathering meant the issues were among the most vexed for the Catholic Church: the role of women, the church's attitude to the divorced and remarried, and the LGBT community. Collins, who has written several books on the papacy, is no fan of Francis' predecessors in John Paul II and Benedict – the latter, he argues, created a "dawn" when he resigned. "And the sun arose, if you like, with Francis. However, we Catholics should not be totally dependent on popes." The sun is shining, says Collins, but the Church is by no means out of the woods. DANIELLE Lupi has seen the evidence of something happening among Catholics on the ground. Lupi is a member of Catholic Voices, a group set up to – as the name suggests – give a voice to everyday Catholics. Lupi, a Catholic school teacher, talks of the great shock when the abuse reports surfaced. Was it true? Was it really happening? "But at the same time, living in reality, we live in a very broken, fallen world," she says. "Even good people like priests are subject to turning away from God and doing wrong things."
Some psychologist friends who had worked with victims struggled with their own faith. But there was no exodus of her fellow Catholics. Rather, in recent times she has witnessed the reverse. At her parish of St Philip's in North Blackburn, she has seen a doubling of numbers. "What I'm seeing are Catholics who are really choosing to be Catholic," she says, "and to support the church in trying to fix this problem, because walking away or giving into the evil behaviours of these priests and lay people that have committed these crimes is not the answer." Are the increasing numbers the result of the Francis Effect? Lupi believes it is more about prayers being answered. "We have a man here who is living what he preaches, living what he speaks, and really speaks from the heart," she says. "The Lord always provides and we needed a strong leader to face this." Paul Sheehan, a fellow Catholic Voices member, believes the greatest impact of Francis has been for people outside the church. "All of a sudden a lot of secular publications like Time magazine and people in media and people outside the church in general all of a sudden take notice of him and what he does, and say what a great person he is," says Sheehan. Theresa Chamoun, also a member of the group, explains how the Francis Effect is working at a similar level in her life. At the University of Melbourne, where she is studying arts and music, Francis has been the prompt for wider discussions. "I'm not a Catholic," a girl told her, "but I really like this Pope Francis guy." "It opens up opportunities for conversations – really positive ones as well," says Chamoun. Archbishop Denis Hart tells a similar story. Recently, he had an identity from the sporting world in his office, who saw the photo of Francis on the wall. "Look at the Pope," the visitor said. "Isn't he something?" "THE seminary is full," began the article in the April newsletter of Corpus Christi College. "How can this be?" The question was posed by third year seminarian Nathan Rawlins, who went on to note that we live in one of the world's most secularised societies, where to say one is a Catholic and attends mass is considered unusual. "I am one of the generation that has grown up with the dark cloud of the sexual abuse crisis dragged through the media and stain the image of the priesthood in the eyes of the faithful and wider society for what seems my entire life." So why indeed is the seminary full? Rawlins offers a simple answer that is hard to appreciate from the secular viewpoint, but blindingly simple for those who have embraced the faith: "Now people are realising how great a gift it is to be a Catholic." I ask Rawlins why he has become a priest, and the answer is similarly unchallengeable. "I heard God call me to the priesthood." Rawlins says he knew from primary school this is where he would end up. He told his fellow students of plans, which led to years of bullying. "You want to be a priest!" they taunted. "You want to be one of those paedophiles!" But Rawlins saw the work of the priests. He remembers how a priest would visit his dying grandfather daily. This, he knew, reflected the overwhelmingly majority. Rawlins also experienced World Youth Day in Sydney in 2008, attended by Pope Benedict. The concept was started by Pope John Paul II in the 1980s and, in part, is credited with the resurgence in the faith among younger Catholics. The seminarians also reflect the ethnic mix of Australia today, and by extension, the Catholic congregations. They are drawn from 11 countries of origin. What of the Francis Effect? The seminarians now in training would have been influenced by John Paul II and Benedict. As Daryl Montecillo, who will be ordained this year, puts it: "We trust in God regardless of whoever God gives us as pope. But we thank God for Pope Francis, that's for sure." Father Brendan Lane believes the tide has turned, and ponders why. "I see them for the future, these fellas. Why are these guys coming in now? I think people are going to need hope." Christ calling Seminarians at Corpus Christi College 1999 - 28 2005 - 37 2010 - 48 2015 - 59 This year's intake: from nine different archdioceses and dioceses across Australia from 11 countries of origin: Australian, India, Croatia, the Philippines, Vietnam, New Zealand, Nigeria, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Poland, Indonesia
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