#397: A Truly Jesuit Pope

After merely 100 days, the new pope is already quietly charting  a different course for the Church...

It seems like Pope Francis keeps catching my eye with an outlook unlike any pope since Blessed (soon Saint) John XXIII.  This time it was the remarks Francis made to a group of papal nuncios, who nominate bishops in each country whenever there is a vacancy.  Francis was talking about the kind of candidates he wanted them to look for, and he was characteristically blunt about what kind of candidate to avoid. According to Thomas Reese in the National Catholic Reporter:

Pope Francis described the kind of persons he wants them to put forward. He wants pastors who are "close to the people, fathers and brothers." They should be "gentle, patient and merciful; animated by inner poverty, the freedom of the Lord and also by outward simplicity and austerity of life." They should "not have the psychology of 'Princes.'"…The pope specifically warned them against ambitious prelates who want to be promoted from one diocese to a more prestigious one. He cited the ancient view that bishops "are married to a Church" and should not be "in constant search of another."

     And the Catholic News Service quoted Francis acknowledging that what he was asking for was not easy:

"It's a delicate task," the pope said. "Beware of those who are ambitious, who seek the episcopacy."

These remarks reminded me that Francis is a Jesuit, and confirmed my experience of the sharp difference between the Jesuits and some diocesan priests.  The difference is often between humility and ambition, and it is illustrated by two examples from my own life.

First came the example of Father Raymond Swords, SJ.  He was president of Holy Cross when I arrived there. He held degrees in theology and mathematics, taught mathematics at Holy Cross, and then found himself president in a time of great cultural upheaval.  While generally regarded as a low-key, uncharismatic figure, he nonetheless became the focal point of some dramatic events during my senior year (1969-1970).

President Swords (left) confers an honorary degree

 The fall term brought the Vietnam Moratorium, a mass movement of protest against the war that garnered huge crowds demonstrating in most major cities across the United States.  In Worcester, Massachusetts (the state’s second largest city and home of Holy Cross) a rally was held on city hall plaza.  Fr. Swords appeared on the podium and announced today he spoke, not for the college, but for himself as a Catholic, as a priest, and as a Jesuit.  He explained that he had reluctantly concluded that the war in Vietnam could no longer satisfy the requirements of the Church’s just war theory, and so he felt compelled to call for an end to the war--and to urge all Catholics to do the same.

Suddenly, Ray Swords was no longer just the chief administrator of our school.  Suddenly he became our leader.  The assembled protesters gave him a standing ovation.

In December a labor dispute led to the expulsion of some black students and the decision by all the blacks on campus to leave Holy Cross permanently (see CrossCurrents #346, A “Small” Crisis Recalled, for details).  After several days of pressure on the administration to restore order on campus, Fr. Swords arrived at a packed “town meeting” of students to announce an amnesty for the expelled students and the creation of an “open university” to reflect on the lessons of recent events and their implications for the college’s future.  That night he received his second standing ovation from the students.

That spring Nixon invaded Cambodia, the National Guard killed four students at Kent State University, and Holy Cross went on a general strike (as did hundreds of U.S. campuses).  It was a time when many college presidents were being hanged in effigy on their own campuses, but at Holy Cross the senior class voted to invite Raymond Swords--their own president--to be their commencement speaker.  In his address, he predicted that the future of the college would be secure if future classes followed our example of moral conviction and committed action:

What you young graduates are completing here today--your four years of living and learning at Holy Cross--has had no real parallel in the past history of this college.  But most of all it is different because what you are commencing here today is--I believe and I hope--something new in the history of Holy Cross.  That “something new” is the beginning of a life-long commitment to fundamental change--social and political, cultural and religious--a commencement grounded on a level of awareness and concern never before achieved by so many in so short a time.  In a profound and genuine sense the class of 1970 has been radicalized as no other class before it.

 When he finished, the entire class rose to its feet and to deliver his third standing ovation of the year.

This man left the mark of his indelible character that year on our class and on our school.

 One year later he finished his 10-year term as Holy Cross president and moved on--to become president of Cranwell Prep, the Jesuit high school In Lenox, Massachusetts. He later led Jesuit high schools in Manhattan and Portland, Maine.

To me, that move—from college president to high school work—typified the Jesuit commitment to service, a commitment rooted in the dedication to one’s work regardless of its status.  Loyola’s maxim “Age quod agis” (“Do what you are doing”) meant that ambition was out of place in Jesuit Life, that one’s mission was to contribute to the whole mission of the Jesuits and of the Church.  “Promotions” were not permanent, and “demotions” were not punishment.  The alternation of “higher” and “lower” positions made Jesuit Life humble by design.

That this is precisely what some commentators noted as a significant aspect of electing a Jesuit as pope. Here is Rev. Richard Ryscavage S.J., a professor of sociology at  Fairfield University:

“St. Ignatius Loyola never wanted us to become bishops. Some exceptions were made in the mission territories, where Jesuits were sometimes the most qualified candidates for becoming leader of a diocese. At times, the Pope himself would intervene and promote a Jesuit bishop to the College of Cardinals. These were exceptions to the rule. St. Ignatius wanted to prevent us from ‘climbing the Church ladder’ by ambitioning high offices.”

Fr. Ryscavage explained that St. Ignatius’ original objection to seeking higher office was in response to the clerical careerism so prevalent at the time. Thus Jesuits take an additional vow not to seek high office.

All of this contrasts sharply with my experience of a certain kind of diocesan priest. The truth is that clerical careerism never died out.  Over my 40 years in church work I’ve occasionally encountered priests who projected a certain ambition.  I cannot describe concrete symptoms of that ambition; it always was a kind of intangible aura such men carried with them like baggage.  But when I felt it, I would tell myself (and often tell others too): “That man wants to be a bishop.” As it turns out, every single one of those men did become bishops, their ambitions fulfilled. Many of them lead dioceses today far from their native local church.

I was seldom privy to the details of the clerical politics that produced such bishops, but I’ll never forget the remark of one pastor, a close family friend, who early in his priesthood had declined the tempting invitation to become a bishop’s secretary (often a step toward higher office).  He confessed to me that he was indeed tempted by that prospect of higher office, but even then he knew he was uncomfortable taking that path.  He described “climbing the church ladder” to me.

“There are only two ways to get ahead,” he told me.  “One is to climb over other guys.  The other is to push them out of the way.” He decided he wanted none of it, became a pastor instead, and stayed in his small, out-of-the-way parish for nearly 30 years until retirement. 
He and I both knew one exception to the rule, however.  One of his seminary classmates, Dan Hart, had left a high diocesan office

Fr. Dan Hart

to return to parish work, where he and I were colleagues.  This priest taught fourth grade CCD and worked with me on baptismal and confirmation programs.  One day, out of the blue, he was named an auxiliary bishop, and several years later became bishop of a New England diocese of his own.  

I always said the highest compliment I could pay him was this: he always remained “the same old Dan Hart” I had known in the parish.  And that was enough to make him a terrific bishop: caring, accessible, solicitous, an authentic shepherd.

Bishop Dan Hart

True, he had never been a great parish priest.  He was a tepid preacher, a dry teacher, an uninspiring liturgist. Yet his very ordinariness made him a good bishop.  “After all,” I would explain to others, “The standards for bishops are much lower than for parish priests!”

Sadly, the last 10 years have demonstrated that truth, and worse: those few priests who sunk below the usual standard and abused children with their power were the very priests that bishops worked hardest to protect.

Ironically, neither Ray Swords nor Dan Hart ever served as a pastor, but they had the qualities a pastor needs. What they proved was that, pastoral skills aside, the personal qualities of humility, simplicity, and authenticity are enough to make a bishop great.  That’s why, 43 years after my college commencement, I’m sure that Pope Francis is onto something.  If we could have more bishops with qualities like Ray Swords and Dan Hart--bishops who adopt a Jesuit spirit of avoiding ambition--the Church will be better for it.

And these are precisely the gifts Pope Francis has brought to his job as Bishop of Rome.  Here is hoping we now get more bishops in his mold. 

  © Bernard   F. Swain PhD 2013