MEN OF THE CLOTH

WINTER 2018–2019

ON A CRISP NOVEMBER DAY, WE SAT DOWN AT THE CAPUCHIN YOUTH MINISTRY RETREAT CENTER in Garrison with Msgr. James Sullivan, pastor of St. Martin de Porres, Poughkeepsie; Fr. Brian T. McSweeney, pastor of St. Augustine, Ossining; and Fr. Stephen Ries of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton parish, Shrub Oak. Here is a condensed transcript of what they had to say.
 

ON BECOMING A PRIEST

Msgr. Sullivan: When I graduated from eighth grade, in 1958, at St. Angela Merici School in the Bronx, there were 37 guys who graduated. Four thought about becoming priests and two went on to be ordained. In those days, it was not unexpected that such would happen at a Catholic elementary school. So it was very easy to think about becoming a priest. At least it was for me.

I grew up in a place where there were lovely priests. There were just great priests at St. Angela, and I grew up with the thought that I might want to be like them.

My beginnings are, I think, very typical of a kid growing up in the south Bronx who was impressed by priests, whom I knew as an altar server. Certainly I grew up in an environment where I never felt that it was anything but appropriate to think about being a priest.

Fr. McSweeney: I started thinking about it in third grade. Catholic grammar school – Sisters of Charity and then the Dominican Sisters of Sparkill. Whenever we had the discussion about what you want to be when you grow up, I always wanted to be the priest. That changed in high school, where the brothers were a great influence, but the focus was to do well so you could get into a good college. Nobody ever asked what do you think God wants you to do. And when I was in college everyone said you have to do well in college so you can get a good job. So I graduated, I got a job, and they said you have to get an MBA, so I went at night and got an MBA. Got my own place in Scarsdale and had everything the world said was supposed to make you happy. I couldn’t figure out what was missing until I realized I had never thought about what God wanted me to do. And I started asking questions about that. Talked to the vocation director of the archdiocese. I think I actually talked to you [nods toward Msgr. Sullivan] around that time.

Msgr. Sullivan: Yes.

Fr. McSweeney: And that’s when I realized that what would make me fulfilled was to go back to remembering what God wanted me to do. I think Msgr. Sullivan told me at the time to write – I remember very clearly – to write a note to myself about why I felt called to the priesthood, and to seal it, and if I should ever doubt, open it up. It’s still sealed in my desk, 30 years later. That’s my story.

Fr. Ries: I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s, without that sort of Catholic culture. I went to Catholic grammar school but I never had a religious sister or brother teaching me. I went to high school with the Marianist Brothers at Chaminade, on Long Island. It was really their example of faithfulness, their work with young people, their own dedication, their lives, that made me begin to ask those bigger questions: What is my purpose in life, what does God want for me? I had envisioned myself going off to college, probably getting a degree in business – but I ended up at 18 joining the Marianists.

I was with the brothers for eight years, I got my degree, I taught, but as I was preparing for final vows, I felt more and more called to the priesthood. So I discerned to leave the brotherhood, and I studied at Douglaston, then Dunwoodie [Saint Joseph’s Seminary], and was ordained in 2015. My parents were sort of hesitant yet supportive, which I think is something that a lot of my younger friends in seminary related to, the idea that parents are not maybe as supportive as they once were. Because it’s not so much a part of the culture anymore. And I think like any parent, they ultimately wanted their child to be happy.
 

ON HANDLING THE SORROWS OF PARISHIONERS

Fr. McSweeney: John the XXIII was asked a similar question once: How did he deal with all the challenges in the world? And he said, “Before I go to bed, I say, ‘God, it’s your Church, I’m going to bed.’” I think that’s how it is sometimes.

Msgr. Sullivan: And if each of us were a doctor, lawyer or candlestick maker, wouldn’t we be assisting people in terms of their own sorrows, maybe expressing it somewhat differently than they would to us? Doesn’t the sorrow that you’re dealing with in a person become an opportunity for you to appreciate how active God is in your life? And please: God is going to touch the life of that person who is coming to you with their own sadness. The moment always presents the challenge to appreciate that the presence of God is made real, hopefully, by our presence.

Fr. Ries: They can teach you only so much in the seminary, and until you confront some of those great challenges – the loss of a child, or having to be with someone at the hospital when they’re dying – you feel in a sense unworthy of it, because you wonder, what am I going to say, what am I going to do? But it’s in those moments that I feel God’s grace probably the most, because he seems to work in spite of my own frailties or my own struggles. And so much of it is just to be there with the people. They just appreciate having a priest there, to pray with them, to bring some comfort or sense of healing. But there is a sense of unworthiness, a sense in which you just say, I have to leave it in God’s hands and he has to help me through it, because I can’t do it on my own.
 

ON OTHER CHALLENGES FACED AS A PRIEST

Msgr. Sullivan: At this part of my life, soon to be 75, the great challenge is, your friends are dying. I don’t want to call it loneliness, but the realization that you are being called into a time of separation, in terms of human relationships. And you begin to take a look at your own fragility and frailty – the arthritis in the legs and the knees become a little more real – and as you anoint people and call them to a realization that there’s no moment in their life that God is not with them, you maybe begin to think a little bit more about this yourself. And you appreciate that now there is going to be a movement away from being a pastor at age 75, hopefully continuing on in a parish as an associate, but with the realization that – you don’t want to say death is around the corner, but that certainly becomes more and more a focus of your attention. So each epoch has its own challenge. I see now the appreciation of the time spent in priesthood, with great gratitude for it.

Fr. McSweeney: In light of the revelations of the summer: I remember as a newly ordained priest, probably just three years in, I was in Poughkeepsie when a priest was arrested for abusing a young boy. And I remember the challenge when the kids in the parish asked you to go someplace. For instance, I remember a boy was having a karate exhibition at mid-Hudson Civic Center right after the papers announced the arrest, and here you are going to go to one of your kids’ events, and walking down the street as a priest. It was a challenge. You realized who you are, not just as an individual, but what you represent because you wear the Roman collar. That was one of the early challenges, to realize that there are imperfect priests out there, and we have to do the best that we can and continue to do what we are supposed to be doing even though that can be challenging.

Msgr. Sullivan: There was a tradition at the seminary when I was a student, on Thursday night, amateur night, faculty would get up and give a little chitchat for half an hour. I guess it was 1967, and [amid the social upheavals of the 1960s] some priests were just beginning to leave the Church. We certainly knew some of them. Some of them were our heroes. And Fr. Jim Connolly, the liturgy prof, got up and he gave a talk about “Who is the hero?” He talked about the humanity of the priesthood, and ultimately said, “If the pope were to leave tonight, would that destroy my faith? If it does, then my faith is in the wrong person.” And he just kept drawing us back to: “It is in Jesus, it is with Jesus, and it is because of Jesus.” And if there’s anything I remember from Seminary, in a sense, it’s that Thursday night speech. At the moment it didn’t seem to have an impact. But when you throw it into the context of what we’re all experiencing today ... It’s ultimately a crisis in holiness: that we don’t recognize and realize what we are called to be in terms of our own relationship with Jesus, how it’s constantly a challenge to recognize our weakness and our sinfulness but also find the strength to overcome that which may be weak and sinful. Jim’s reflection with us that night about “There is only one hero, and his name is Jesus” has meant more and more to me as the years have gone on. We all struggle with our relationship with the Lord and its improvement. We say it, we preach it, but if we don’t work at it, guess what?

Fr. Ries: I entered religious life in 2003, a year after Boston [the Boston Globe clergy sex abuse exposé] broke. So that was always a reality for me as a priest. I think for the guys who are studying or discerning, it’s always in the back of your mind at this point. It seems like every time we get a step ahead, there’s another headline or another article or something that emerges. I haven’t had any sort of any hostility, but every once in a while if I’m out running an errand, I’ll have a quick conversation with somebody, and they’ll sort of – they’re sort of surprised by the whole thing, that somebody young would be a priest, or why would you want to enter? You have to wonder what are they thinking. I think in everything we do now there’s a little bit of a reflection. Something as simple as, you’re having a ministry meeting with kids, it’d probably be a good idea to have another adult present. It has changed the way that we minister and the way we see our role as pastors or shepherds. I think the greatest witness we can give the world is to be holy, faithful priests and build up strong parishes. I think that’s the greatest testimony.
 

ON THE JOYS OF BEING A PRIEST

Msgr. Sullivan:  I’ve been blessed over the years in most of the assignments that I’ve been in, to enjoy living with other priests. Whether it was at the schools where I’ve taught – Farrell, Spellman, Neumann – or in the house now up at St. Martin’s in Poughkeepsie, I’ve been blessed by knowing that I have the opportunity to live in community with my brother priests. We pray with one another. We console one another. We support one another. I’ve been blessed by being able to live in that kind of community.

Without that, without the challenge and support of living together, I worry. This is not so much about myself, but the younger priests, who are much more isolated and might end up living alone at a rectory far from any other priests – that without the challenge and support of living in community, we become the lone rangers and we can lose ourselves in ourselves. Priests are not going to always agree, we have different ideologies, but that never takes away from the common bond of what we do as the priests in a parish, celebrating the goodness of God in our lives touching the lives of other people.

Fr. Ries: I would agree with that 100 percent. I think one of the sad effects of the vocation crisis is that most of my peers envision that at some point we might be alone at a rectory. It is a great worry. Because we are not called to be the Lone Ranger. There’s a great bond in our vocation, because we share the priesthood. It’s not ours, it’s the priesthood of Christ. As the Bible says, it’s not good for a man to be alone. I think it’s true for a priest as well. I don’t think it’s beneficial to have guys isolated.

But getting back to the joy: Before I was ordained, a former student of mine entered the seminary. I didn’t know he was entering, and I was just about to be ordained. And we caught up and he said, “You probably don’t remember that you said this in freshman year religion, but I never forgot.” And this just showed – wow – not only was someone actually paying attention in class, but that God can work through me and bring about something very powerful. Someone comes up after a sacrament and says thank you for bringing me to the church, thank you for hearing my confession, or somebody says, “Father, I’ve always struggled with that Gospel reading and you explained it to me in your homily.” To see people get it – to begin to understand, start to comprehend – that always is very powerful, when you can see God working and God’s insight coming to someone else.

Fr. McSweeney: I would echo that sentiment. I taught five years of high school, and one of the most challenging things is to teach morality to 16-year-olds. But one of my former students, right after high school, entered the convent. And – not that you take any credit for it – but helping not only to educate them through class but also to spiritually direct some of the students … there’s a lot of joy there to know that they got it. She’s been a sister now for over 25 years, and I remember when she was a freshman in high school. There’s a lot of joy there.

Msgr. Sullivan: My biggest joy, no matter what I did, was, to use a Pope Francis word, to accompany guys in terms of their journey to the priesthood. And I’ve been lucky because I’ve been in positions as vocation director to be able to do that, and maybe a little bit to continue doing it with some of the seminarians in the summer. As somebody said, as priests we’re not going to be biologically transcendent by passing on life in terms of our physical genes – but maybe our “spiritual genes” are going to touch the life of somebody to make them think about a vocation.

And one of our great fears is: Is the media now so impacting the message that it can’t even be heard? That what we’re saying about ourselves or about what we perceive to be the goodness and the joy of the priesthood doesn’t seem to even get through? If there’s a sin – and there are many of them, in terms of the epoch that we’re experiencing now and the issues that some of our brothers have brought us to – you wonder if it’s that it’s given the enemies the opportunity to put up that sound screen, so that the young person who is contemplating any aspect of discipleship is beginning to wonder, “Well, are they all frauds, is this whole thing a fraud?”
 

ON HOPES FOR THE FUTURE OF THE PRIESTHOOD

Fr. McSweeney: I was at a dinner last week with the Knights of Columbus for Westchester-Putnam, raising money for the seminary. Fr. Cleary, who teaches scripture at the seminary, gave a talk, and he mentioned how remarkable it is to see young men today, with all that’s going on, still coming to be priests. He told us about a nun who came to speak at the seminary recently and reminded them of 9/11. She said that when the nation was under attack and everybody was fleeing the World Trade Center, there were those who went in to help, to save lives. She said “The Church is under attack, and you’re the guys who are going in.” And for me it was beautiful imagery of how heroic it must be for young men today, with all of the challenges that our nation and our church are going through, to say they’re going to go ahead and do it, because that’s where lives have to be saved, that’s where souls have to be saved, that’s where God’s calling me to go. I give them a lot of credit.

Fr. Ries: In spite of all the problems that we mentioned, I’m a very hopeful person, and I believe it’s Christ’s church, and He’s going to continue to see us through. And if there is this period of storm and difficulty, God willing, good is going to come from it, whether in the form of vocations or people coming back to the Church.

Msgr. Sullivan: And maybe when we think that He’s gone to sleep, it’s just a reminder to us to wake up more. I’m with you. My own guess is that, rising up among us, there are men and women who are going to be able to say to themselves, “I believe, and I believe that God is going to use me to allow His light and love to become a reality in my generation.” If we don’t believe that, then we’ve thrown out more than the baby with the bathwater. I think we have to hold on to that tenaciously.