A favorite novel of mine is “The Once and Future King,” T. H. White’s lengthy and imaginative retelling of the legend of King Arthur. The book’s first section – titled “The Sword in the Stone” details the education of Arthur as a boy through the influence of the wizard Merlin. The most creative and imaginative part of the novel, this section offered me an ideal on which I thought the ministry of priests ought to hinge.
White describes how the boy Arthur, under the wizard Merlin’s guidance, becomes king of England. Told with great wit, cleverness and sophistication, Merlin transforms Arthur, known as “the Wart,” into a variety of animals to complete his education as a boy, as a man, as a future knight. One day he is an insect. Another day he is a bird or a hedgehog. Arthur talks to and plays with these animals as if they were personal friends. They become his teachers.
From the birds he learns what it is to see the earth from the sky. From the snakes he learns what it is to crawl on the ground. And so forth. In this way Arthur learns not only that human beings are different from these animals. He also learns something about human nature and he discovers how human beings might get along with each other as well as how they might not.
There comes a day, however, when Arthur, now apprenticed to the knight Sir Kay, finds himself assisting that warrior at a joust. But Sir Kay forgets to bring his own sword with him. He sends Arthur to retrieve it. But because Arthur is basically still a boy, and because he is always in a hurry, and because he is inclined to be lazy, he does so reluctantly. Then he remembers having noticed a sword stuck in a stone in a nearby churchyard. So he decides to borrow it for the occasion. Arthur is in such a hurry, however, that he fails to notice the inscription on the stone. “Whoever pulls this sword from this stone shall be king of England.” With no hesitation Arthur reaches for the sword.
The description of what happens next in the novel is something like a movie suddenly going into slow motion. Arthur hears music and everything around him suddenly becomes very clear. People gathered and so too did the hundreds of animals with whom Arthur had associated himself as a young lad. It was an unusual family reunion.
The animals, his friends, encourage Arthur to pull the sword from the stone. They cheer him on and applaud as the momentous event takes place. When it later becomes clear to Sir Kay and the other knights and ladies what has occurred, they each bow down before Arthur and honor him as their king. The novelist writes that Arthur becomes very upset by this, so much so that he bursts into tears and exclaims that he wishes he had never seen the sword.
This tale touched me deeply. The magical element of talking animals was fascinating enough. The writing kept me interested. But there was something else. Arthur was talented and gifted but he wasted a good deal of these talents as well as time and energy. Like all young people, he couldn’t fully appreciate the community that was his. The “lovers and helpers of Wart” came to support him in his most important moment as an adolescent moving into adulthood. As an adult, Arthur would learn to suffer and to sacrifice and to discover what “growing up” means. And there was no other way to discover this than to do so painfully.
Over time, the tale of “the Wart” has become an instrument helping me to realize how much I idealized my vocation during the years of training in the seminary and beyond. It also helped me realize how much growing up I still needed to do.
For myself the priesthood was a fraternity of caring men who encourage one another, who support one another in somewhat the same way in which animals supported and encouraged Arthur. When ministry becomes difficult or burdensome, I thought, there are brother priests to turn to for solace and comfort. When the priesthood becomes a challenge, there are brother priests to stand with you during those challenges. At the time I believed the priesthood was a place where I would find a nurturing family. I thought of the support I needed but not always the support other priests might need.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells his disciples, “As the Father has loved me, so also I love you.” Priests share the Father’s love in a very special way. Jesus smiles upon priests. He says, “You have not chosen me; I have chosen you.” He tells them this “that my joy may be yours and your joy may be complete.” Jesus’ words to his disciples can aptly be spoken to priests and lay people both. Priests ought to reflect constantly on these words in order to deepen their own relationship with the saving Jesus.
My years as a priest have been full of sadness as well as joy. The scandals of sexual misconduct among the clergy have shocked and disappointed both priests and lay people. Both clergy and laity are deeply wounded by the betrayals. In thinking we could be better priests than the generation that preceded us, my classmates and I somehow neglected our own humanness. Grace builds on nature, our theology teaches. We forgot that we too are fallible. Priesthood does not make men better than other human beings. In wanting to be seen as ordinary as other human beings, my generation of priests forgot that all human beings sin and make mistakes. I forgot to consider my own sinfulness.
(To be continued)
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