Bishop Edward O’Rourke
Bishop Edward O’Rourke was bishop of Peoria through the seventies and eighties. I became aware of him shortly after my return to the Church in 1979. He was notable because he sold the sumptuous bishop’s mansion, bought a one bedroom house near the cathedral, and deposited the remaining money in a fund for retired priests. He planted a garden on the small plot, drove an old car, and in other ways eschewed the luxury most bishops take for granted.
I mention him because until the other day I was unaware of any other bishop having done such a thing, let alone someone who was ordinary of such a large diocese as Buenos Aires. I find this remarkable, this voluntary simplicity and solidarity with the poor.
Because like it or not -and I really do not like it – the hierarchy with few exceptions lives a life that is bourgeois if not aristocratic. They are called “princes of the Church” and most of them live up to the title. In this they are not imitators of Christ but of the rich and the ruling classes.
And now this man from a far country, this man who chose the name of the little poor man of Assisi, appears ready to shake up the culture of clericalism. It may prove hard to replicate his life of simplicity, but he seems ready to try: instead of calling for a Vatican driver, he took a cab to the conclave. Immediately after the election he picked up his own baggage and paid the fare. His first appearances were in a simple white cassock. I do not expect him to favor the furs and silks and fancy shoes of his predecessor.
Please note that I am not calling for liturgical asceticism; the temple is the place where human artifice is consecrated to God, where all that is beautiful and splendid should shine. Silk and brocade and gold and jewels are utterly fit in worship. But in private life, those who are the successors to the apostles should imitate their lives, not the lives of the affluent.
There is much talk of a “new evangelization”. Let’s hope that it begins with the evangelization of the clergy, with the conversion to voluntary simplicity and renunciation of the culture of clerical privilege and soft living.
It appears that Pope Francis is ready to set an example.
One of my favorite priests from high school, Fr. Ed Coleman, lived like this. I always wondered how he stayed so thin- the only time he ever ate anything substantial was at public potlucks that were so common in my parish growing up. In private, breakfast, lunch, or dinner was usually just a pot of hot water flavored by maybe a stalk of celery or an onion or whatever vegetable he was given from somebody’s garden.
Almost all of his salary, he gave to the poor.
Pope Francis is indeed a good example in a lot of things: A Jesuit faithful to church teaching. A humble servant of the poor.
I hope 50 years from now we’ll still be talking about “Pope Francis priests” and the vocations he is sure to create.
“Please note that I am not calling for liturgical asceticism; the temple is the place where human artifice is consecrated to God, where all that is beautiful and splendid should shine. Silk and brocade and gold and jewels are utterly fit in worship. But in private life, those who are the successors to the apostles should imitate their lives, not the lives of the affluent.”
This.
I think there is a place for silk and brocade and gold in private life as well as in worship ~ using and wearing these daily on our bodies and in our homes (for priests or lay Catholics) reminds us and others that the body itself is a temple deserving of adornment and that beauty – even mere physical beauty – is a good to be embraced. The successors of the apostles should – as individuals, in varying ways – seek to remind themselves and others that they are the Successors of the Apostles, both lowly and exulted, for some this is best done by pursuing asceticism, but for others, it’s best done by reminding the world that the body itself is also a place for beauty and splendor to shine in Christ’s honor.
I think that, given the cult-like devotion to the body that secular society has, and the quest for ever greater material wealth and comfort, the pope is right to reject the silk, brocade, and gold, in order to be a sign of contradiction to the world. After all, the sacrifice of material goods proves the value of material goods.
There is something about all of the talk about how “humble” the new pope is that bothers me. Maybe I’m too cynical to believe it’s really true?
I don’t like “I’m so simple that I don’t need all of those trappings, etc.” It seems disrespectful to the office itself and to the people whose job is to see to those trappings.
There’s a difference between using trappings for ceremonial duties, and then every other time. The Queen wears a crown when she opens Parliament and a diadem at state dinners, but other than that she rarely wears a crown, and certainly never in her private life.
That being said, it’s entirely possible the humility is simply a facade.
I have always loathed the “trappings”. And I think the world is repulsed by them.
The world is indeed repulsed by the trappings. My non-Catholic relatives complain about them. What if the trappings are preventing people from hearing the Gospel? Are they still worth preserving?
In a word, no.
The world is repulsed by many things – Christ among them.
If it is repulsed by Christ, fine. But if they are repulsed by the ermine robes of those who claim to represent Christ, well, that is another thing.
Surely you are not comparing Our Lord to a piece of fabric or metal?
Huh? How can you misconstrue what I said like that?
I mean that, far from rejecting Christ, when people are repulsed by clerical finery they are repulsed by worldliness and wealth, not Christ.
When you are too extreme, the middle often looks to be the other side. For each person who was repulsed by the trappings, another was drawn in by the beauty and dignity.
St Bernard of Clairvaux, writing to Pope Eugene III, has the following to say:
“At least either deny that you are shepherd over this people, or show that you are. You will not deny it, lest he, whose chair you fill, deny that you are his heir. I mean, of course, Peter, who never, so far as can be ascertained, paraded himself decked with gems, or robed in silks; he was not covered with gold, he did not ride on a white steed, he was not surrounded by soldiers, nor fenced off from his flock by noisy attendants. He thought that without all this he could amply fulfil the salutary command, If you love me, feed my sheep. In all this painted pomp you are not Peter’s successor, but Constantinc s. What I insist on is that while you may tolerate such pomp and glory to suit the time, you must not claim it as a debt due to you. I rather urge you to consider those things which are a debt due from you. If on state occasions you are robed in purple and decked with gold, I am sure this does not mean that you, the shepherd’s heir, shrink from the shepherd’s toil, or the shepherd s care ; it does not imply that you are ashamed of the Gospel. Albeit, if you willingly preach the Gospel, you, too, have a glorious place among the apostles.” (http://archive.org/stream/bernarddeclirvau00bernuoft#page/n105/mode/2up)
I find it interesting that he refers to “the time” (“pro tempore”), which is exactly the what Pope Paul VI referred to when he reduced the trappings of papal dignity. I’m not sure I understand what that means.
For commentators above who struggle with the idea of the pope not using finery, I recommend Fr. Thomas DuBay’s classic Happy Are You Poor: The Simple Life and Spiritual Freedom to see how many saints of the Church, including bishops, have embraced and lived Gospel poverty in their lives, and how the embrace of this principle often lead to spiritual renewal in the people surrounding them.