Jane Anderson
Migrant Priests?

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The majority of these priests are from “second” and “third world” countries; countries often plagued with turmoil, poverty, disease, corruption and a lack of basic needs.  These countries are in desperate need, including their Christian communities, many of whom also lack sufficient priestly leadership.  Yet, these predominantly young priests have migrated to Australia with a desire to pastor in a “first world” country, encouraged by papal and episcopal pleas to help with our “shortage of priests.” 

Bringing these migrant priests here as a curative for our “problem,” however, is not problem-free in itself.  They bring with them attitudes that are foreign to Western culture and ideas that are not necessarily esteemed by some (or many) as being good for our local Church.  As lay people, we have no official say or public recourse for concerns about local priestly leadership, but that must not deter us from striving to share our anxieties about difficulties that affect our faith community.

For some time I have reflected on a number of aspects related to migrant priests.  Status, for example, is culturally constructed.  In most “second” and “third world” countries, priesthood is considered a prestigious position in society, its eminence some times given as the reason for a priest’s vocation.  However, when authority is elided with status and then transferred to the “first world,” cross-cultural conflict can occur.  Australians, for instance, do not have respect for authority unless it is earned; deference is not automatically given just because someone has attained social status.  Secondly, in the cultures from which these migrant priests come, men and women are generally prescribed sex roles that uphold patriarchy.  Many Western women consider this social form oppressive; while in Australian society, both men and women now generally shape their sex roles according to their personhood, relationships and circumstances.  Hence, this cultural difference renders migrant priests’ pastoral relations with Western people problematic.  In particular, Australian women generally regard themselves as individual persons of worth, with marital status not principally included in that measure – unlike most women in “second” and “third world” countries whose only social measure is their marital status.  This cultural divide shows itself even in very ordinary situations.  Two migrant priests refused to use one woman’s preferred title, “Ms,” whilst teasing her with “Miss” and “Mrs” - titles that traditionally determine marital status.  Her perspective of self-understanding and their perspective of her are culturally conflicted from the outset.  How then are migrant priests to effectively minister to Western women and give nuanced advice to those in Western-style relationships?

These priests also often fail to realise that these women have come to expect certain characteristics in all their relationships, including those with their priest; qualities such as mutuality, equality and reciprocity.  A few migrant priests who are aware of their difficulties in relating to Australian women tend to avoid pastoral situations that require personal interaction because they feel unable to respond appropriately.  They do, however, try to compensate by increasing sacramental service.  While this might alleviate their dilemma, it is not always in accord with parish needs and can create its own difficulties.  The problem of sexual bias, for example, can also occur during Mass: some priests give moral instruction that is received as socially insensitive and on occasion, sexually discriminating.  I know a small number of women in several parishes who won’t go to Mass if young migrant priests are giving the homily.  Their partners are none too pleased either. 

These migrant priests also come with culturally filtered interpretations of Catholic teaching that do not always accord with Western readings.  Without an awareness of subtle differences, pastoral care can be rendered ineffective.  These migrant priests do not have a relevant cultural bank from which they can draw pastoral sensitivities.  They have very little familial or relational experience that connects with Western interpersonal styles.  A number of these priests are also young and immature but are expected to minister to a progressively older congregation who have a vast pool of experience and knowledge.  Generally, parishioners regard their cultural faux pas as social incompetencies; some are too polite to say so, others just become indifferent.  Yet, it leaves a taste of dissatisfaction that can only erode, rather than build up our local Church.  On rare occasions where people do criticize or simply give an opinion that is not in accord with the priests’, these priests are generally unprepared for counter-argument.  They come from conservative backgrounds where the priest’s word is the last word, and such expression can be perceived as a challenge to their priestly authority rather than as an invitation to personal dialogue.

It is true that some of these priests minister to people of their own culture here in the Western world.  These communities are certainly welcoming and are happy to treat them as they did priests back home, often by putting them on a pedestal.  Exalting “Father,” however, can cause numerous problems in the local Church, and often leads to polarization.  Some of these priests develop expectations that other cultural groups should treat them similarly.  Further, when these priests assign people from their own cultural group to parish positions without recourse to due process, accusations of racial favouritism can be made, damaging both priest and lay relationships, individually and collectively.  Yet, how can these difficulties be resolved?  Of course, these priests have needs that can often be uniquely met by those from their own culture.  I remember seeing the back of an old man shuffling into the presbytery.  At that moment, he turned around.  I was aghast, this man was not old; he was one of these young migrant priests bent low with an unknown burden and I am sure loneliness featured in his lot.  At times, these priests must experience serious social and personal dislocation in our local Church.

 I know too that these migrant priests have really been affected by the recent case of a confrere being charged with sexual abuse, and then been physically abused as retribution.  Many of these priests do not think of the victims and are fearful of parishioners speaking to them about this issue.  Of course, recent media reports would indicate these difficulties are not confined to migrant priests, but for young migrant priests in particular, who have decades of priesthood ahead of them, they are preoccupied with how this situation impacts upon them and their future.  Indeed, this tragedy must be very unsettling for those migrant priests who are used to unquestioned authority and unaccountable status; I know that one, at least, has given serious thought to returning to his country of origin.  Yet, more importantly, how is our local Church able to reflect on this tragic situation if these migrant priests remain egocentric and uncommunicative?  Are these priests able to provide much needed leadership in this traumatic period?

While attempts to inculturate these priests are to be applauded, there are numerous questions about how this is being done?  Inculturation involves adaptation to the values, cultural norms and needs of people other than those known and familiar to the migrant priests.  It also calls for an alteration of the priests’ perspectives, attitudes and life style.  From a Christian perspective, inculturation demands a genuine transformation that is directed to gospel values.  Yet, some of these migrant priests seem too ready to adopt a “first world” lifestyle and are quick to avail themselves and take for granted the following: new cars, fashionable clothes, expensive vestments and mobile phones.  Perhaps it is worthwhile remembering that this priestly package also includes free medical benefits, free education, free accommodation, a generous stipend and flights back home.  When does a priest pick up the tab?  More importantly, how do they identify with their parishioners, some (or many) of whom are struggling financially?  While this criterion is also true of some Australian priests, it is nonetheless disturbing to see these migrant priests so willing to take on materialist habits without question, especially since some have seen the extremes of poverty and know the injustices of Western greed.

Questions also arise when Western choices do not appeal, such as eating our food.  I was immediately taken aback by a priest’s refusal of a particular rice dish at a dinner in which the hostess had made a special effort to please her guest: his response being,  “rice is served differently back home.”  Back home; some don’t even have rice to eat, here such refusal does nothing for pastoral relations.  Where too is “home” for these priests?  Furthermore, what about migrant priests’ language difficulties?  For some, English is their second language, which can cause frustrations in ministry.  Even those whose first language is English, do not always understand our idiomatic expressions, as it is sometimes difficult for us to understand theirs.  Yet, there seem to be no programs to alleviate these problems.  Moreover, how is the inculturation process measured, either from the priests’ or parishioners’ perspective?  Is this process even being evaluated?  It is also pertinent to add that many presbyteries no longer have housekeepers and cooks.  What happens when these migrant priests, with nuns and others to do this work back home, are put into growing numbers of impoverished parishes without an inkling of what it means to be domestic?  Whose responsibility is it to ensure that these priests know how to cook, iron and clean house?  Another related set of questions that needs to be explored concerns the cross-cultural relationships between the various groups of priests within the diocese.  How do they get along with each other?  Is there a cultural pecking order, perceived or actual?  More specifically, do priests sharing the same presbytery clash because of cultural differences?  If there are clashes, how does that affect priestly leadership?  Moreover, how does it affect our local Church?

Nevertheless, there are questions that are far more critical for our local Church.  Why are these priests here?  Are we really bereft of the talents and gifts necessary for leadership in our local Church?  Some say it is because of a “lack of faith,” that we do not have priests.  However, there is no evidence to support such claims.  I sincerely believe that we have men and women, celibate, married and otherwise, who have the abilities necessary to maintain, build up our local Church and spread the Good News.  These people have pastoral skills, many are mature, a few are knowledgeable in Scripture and theology, and some certainly have deep, deep faith.  However, they do not fall into the category of being “male, celibate and ordained.”  This leads to a host of new questions.  Given the aforementioned difficulties for both priests and parishioners, are we being wise in overcoming the “shortage of priests” by introducing migrant priests?  Is this the way forward for our local Church, or is it simply a stopgap measure leaving the deeper issues unresolved?

Stereotyping migrant priests, however, can be reductive, and, as such, can neglect some of the desirable qualities they in fact possess.  Perhaps in some circumstances, it is good to have a migrant priest from these countries; after all Asia, Africa, Europe, America and Australia were originally evangelised by migrant priests.  Perhaps mature and experienced priests who do not succumb to Western consumerism might remind us that our “first world” wealth needs to be shared with those who are less fortunate.  Insights from other cultures might also be helpful; some have relational qualities and spiritualities that may help alleviate the alienation many feel in the Western world.  Perhaps too there are personal reasons why a priest is here, for example, persecution may have driven him from his country, or he has chosen to be near his family who themselves have migrated.  However, if these migrant priests, many of whom are youngsters, recruited abroad and trained in Australia, are here solely because of a so-called shortage of priests, then I remain concerned for the future wellbeing of our local Church.  More specifically, if we have a policy of attempting to overcome a shortage of priests that results from an inadequacy of our local Church to produce priests, then we are not facing the difficulties that have caused that problem.  We may even be exacerbating the original problem by the current policy of importing priests.  There is also a haunting suspicion that these migrant priests are welcomed by the hierarchy because they are seen to be a way of restoring conservative priorities, but which do not speak to our contemporary Western culture.

Yet, concern can never be the last word for Christians.  There are in the “first world”, other groups of migrant priests, some of whom belong to trans-national missionary orders; mature men who have served in “third world” countries.  These priests have invested their lives and ministry in establishing local Churches but as indigenous priests have naturally emerged, these missionaries have given up their positions.  Limited numbers of these men have crossed the seas to minister on the same invitation as their younger migrant confreres, but there are notable differences with regards these priests.  They usually have Western origins, and while they have been inculturated elsewhere and have trouble returning to excessively materialist societies, I believe there is a lingering familiarity that helps them in their pastoral and sacramental ministries.  These particular migrant priests share our first world culture but have been enriched through inculturation in another culture and so have much to contribute to the broadening of our vision as Church.  Many have been instrumental in building communities in physical and spiritual ways, the latter involving the formation of parishioners who now lead and catechise their own communities.  Migrant priests like these can teach our local Church the theology of small Christian communities, develop and support native talents and skills, and encourage and build networks in parishes. 

The best of these priests also have a strong sense of social justice; they have seen the ravages of colonialism and have made it their goal to set right the wrongs that have been done to these “third world” peoples.  These missionaries have the potential to turn our often-introverted view towards a global vision.  Unfortunately, the “first world” tends to close the shutters on other cultures’ local events, keeping us relatively comfortable but regrettably immune to the passions that keep us vital and strong.  Generally, for example, we don’t factor justice and peace into our Christian practice, which demands our active engagement in making our world a better place for all humankind.  Moreover, our local Church’s difficulties are similarly felt in other church communities around the world, and any furtherance to that awareness not only magnifies problems but also offers opportunities, fertilized by cross-cultural dialogue and experiences that can help us creatively establish new pathways.  I also believe these missionary priests, particularly those who are able to jettison vestiges of patriarchy, have some of the insights and skills needed to lead and transfer our local Church from the monopoly of the ordained to the shared ministry of the baptised, priest and parishioner alike.  These missionary priests have a particular attitude their younger migrant confreres generally do not: “it’s the business of a missionary to put himself out of business,” quipped one priest.  I am not here suggesting that we should be a Church without priests, but what I am asserting is that there needs to be room made for different notions of priesthood and Christian ministries, filled with a diversity of people from many walks of life.

Evangelisation is the task of all the baptised.  Being effective in this mission requires us to speak up for causes that we judge to be morally valuable, whether they are in the secular world or in our own backyard.  In our Church, too many important questions are being set aside, particularly those that inquire why is there a threat of Eucharistic famine, why are some being refused Eucharist, and why are some groups barred from celebrating Eucharist.  Beyond these questions, however, is a new way to be Church; it is inclusive, communal, contextual, experiential, and compassionate.  Within the year, our bishop will ordain two more young migrant seminarians.  I pause to wonder at the consequences of this move.  Is this move about maintenance and exclusion in our local Church?  Will the neo-conservatism of some migrant priests arrest the fundamental changes needed to reinvigorate parishes?  On the other hand, will those very much concerned about the lack of vision for our local Church seriously reflect on the question of migrant priests?  Furthermore, who is willing to actively engage in bringing about appropriate solutions to our difficulties?  In the meanwhile, if we are to have migrant priests, surely it is not too much to ask that only bridge-builders to a new way to be Church need apply.

 

*Acknowledgement:  Thank you to those priests who provided editorial comment. 

 

Ref.: Written by Jane Anderson, 9 Bottlebrush Road, Albany, W.A. 6330, AUSTRALIA.