Bishop as Pawn Page 0,6
fifteen years younger than his own sixty-six years. “You liked it there?”
“I loved it.”
“Then why …?”
“Why did I leave the missions? Why am I becoming a diocesan priest?”
Koesler opened his hands on the table palms up, inviting a response. “If it’s not too personal. Earlier you said something about the bishops …”
“The bishops …” Carleson’s expression hardened. “Yes, the bishops. See, the Church in the Third World is not all that different from the Church anywhere else—here. Bishops, by their very position, tend toward being somewhat aristocratic. The highest rank a bishop can reach, short of the papacy, is the Cardinalate. And Cardinals are referred to commonly as ‘Princes of the Church.’ The Polish word for priest is ksiądz— which is almost exactly the word for ‘prince.’ And that’s only a priest.
“Bishops—Catholic bishops—are treated pretty much like royalty, if not by everyone at least by Catholics. And that’s as true in this country as it is almost everywhere else.”
“I can’t disagree,” Koesler said. “Anytime a bishop presides at the altar, all of the liturgy revolves around him. It’s as if he were a king. He even sits on a throne.
“But, as you said, it’s a situation common everywhere—in this country as well as Honduras. So, why …? I mean as long as you’re functioning as a priest, you’re going to have to deal with bishops. And you’re still functioning as a priest.…”
“It’s a good point … by the way, could I have a bit more coffee?”
Koesler could have kissed him. Never in his life had anyone come back for seconds of Koesler’s brew. Most people never finished the first cup. Gladly did he refill both their cups. And, mercifully, that did it for the leftover coffee.
“Let me try to clarify my point.” Carleson blew across the surface of his cup. “Since bishops are treated like royalty, I suppose it’s only natural that most of them seem to identify with the movers and shakers of society, with the Establishment, with those in power.
“But, see, in the Third World there are only two classes: those who have everything and those who have nothing. Nothing connects the classes. Nothing exists between them. You must be for one side or the other. No matter with which side the local bishop relates, his priests have to choose. If the bishop joins the aristocracy, the priest does also. Or else the priest finds himself in opposition not only to the rich but also to his bishop.”
Carleson smiled grimly. “The priests get together periodically, much like the meeting we attended this evening. And down there we divided ourselves about the way you do.
“This evening, I paid very close attention to what was being said by whom. Everybody kept the conversation confined to noncontroversial subjects like the services the city doesn’t provide or the mayor or the council. I watched the departure of the guys who pretty much sided with the Church bureaucracies. I could tell because as they left, the conversation drifted to subjects not so safe.
“And then they wanted to find out which side I was on. But their investigation was short-circuited by—who was it … Ernie Bell?—and his problems with Bishop Diego.
“The priests’ meetings in Honduras—and the other countries where I’ve served—are about the same. Except that the stakes are higher. Probably because there are no neutral areas. It’s either poor or rich … the haves or the have-nots.
“Do you get the picture, Bob? Who the bishop happens to be and what his social ethic is are of tremendous importance. And, in the final analysis, the diocesan priests down there have a bit more mobility than the priests who come in as missionaries. They can move to a different jurisdiction, especially before they’re ordained. And while that’s not an awful lot of consolation, it’s better than the missionary who’s sent to a particular locale by his superior. There isn’t much of anything he can do about it.”
Koesler had been concentrating so much on what was being explained that his coffee had gotten cold. He pushed the cup aside. “You make it sound so … so dismal. As if the bishops in mission territories have abandoned the poor to mingle with the rich. It can’t be that bleak.”
“It isn’t. But it comes close. Sure, you’ve got your Helder Camara in Brazil or Romero in El Salvador. But you’ve also had the all-but-complete opposition to Aristide by the bishops of Haiti.
“If I’m painting with too broad a brush, I’m sorry. There’s no doubt it’s tough to be