Being 'pastoral': What it means

		The Catholic  Difference  George Weigel

At a recent meeting to debate Catholic reform in the U.S, I said that I'm less interested in changing the process by which bishops are chosen than in amplifying the criteria that guide the process.

A participant asked what those criteria should be. I cited one criterion I mentioned in The Courage To Be Catholic - one way to spot a likely bishop is to find a successful local pastor whose parish has grown and flourished.

'Pastoral' bishop

This prompted a prominent Catholic editor and commentator to jump in and ask whether I wasn't changing my mind: "In this pontificate, it's been a question of 'fidelity, fidelity, and fidelity' in choosing bishops. Aren't you suggesting that we go back to the (pre-John Paul II) model of the 'pastoral' bishop?"

It was a telling question, which said more about my colleague's presuppositions than about my position. The question seemed to assume that "pastoral" and "faithful" are mutually-exclusive opposites: you choose one or the other.

Faithful teacher

In my vocabulary (and in John Paul II's apostolic exhortation "Pastors of the Flock"), "pastoral" means "faithful and compelling teacher."

A faithful and compelling teacher listens and learns. A faithful and compelling teacher understands that some Catholic truths take longer to absorb, and then live, than others. A faithful and compelling teacher suffers with his people as they wrestle with the more demanding truths of faith.

Above all, being "pastoral" means being a priest or bishop who can teach the truth, with charity, but without compromise.

The tendency to juxtapose "pastoral bishop" and "faithful teacher" reflects many confusions. It also reflects the tendency to think of every contested question in the church as an "issue" - a matter to be resolved, finally, by a political compromise.

Not hot-button 'issues'

What the media and Catholic culture of dissent often define as Catholic hot-button "issues" aren't "issues" in that sense.

The church's teaching that natural means of regulating fertility are morally superior to artificial contraceptives; the church's inability to ordain women to the ministerial priesthood; the church's conviction that homosexual sex is disordered sex - these are settled matters of Catholic doctrine.

A truly pastoral bishop will understand that these teachings are hard to grasp in a unisex culture that often defines freedom as personal willfulness.

While helping his people grow into a full embrace of these truths, a genuinely pastoral bishop won't begin by suggesting that these really aren't settled matters, after all.

That's not being "pastoral." That's not treating intelligent lay Catholics with respect. The truth, the Lord tells us, is liberating.

George Weigel is a senior fellow of the Ethics and Public Policy Center in Washington, D.C.

Finding joy: In breaking Christmas traditions

		Grand Mom  Audrey  Mettel Fixmer

Some of us have lived through so many Christmases that they have finally blurred into just one emotional feeling, a blending of love, joy, and peace.

It's a spirit so precious that we try to make sure each year that we do everything like we have done before in an attempt to recapture that feeling. It's the way traditions are born. Then one day we discover that when life forces us to break with tradition, we create something even more wonderful: a precious memory.

Special gift

At a recent Woman's Club meeting we were asked to share stories of memorable Christmases. What could I share?

Would it be the story of the Christmas we spent in a Quonset hut in University Village when Bob was doing graduate work at the University of Minnesota? It was the first year ever that we would not be able to join our families in Aurora, Ill. How could we bear the separation?

We looked at our two little boys, two-year-old Robbie and one-year-old Tommy, longing to share them with their grandparents. Bob was getting his education on the GI Bill, supplemented by his part-time job selling shoes in a department store. We didn't even own a car and couldn't imagine where we would find the money to buy a gift for our boys, much less ourselves.

Then one day in the laundromat I saw a memo on the bulletin board that said, "For sale: Child's peddle car, $2." We went to look at it and discovered that although it was scratched and banged up, it had movable parts that seemed to work. So we hauled it home and set to work painting it bright red so that it could pass as a new one, at least to a two-year-old.

That Christmas we experienced a new kind of joy as we watched Robbie's delight in his new "wheels." He lovingly tooled around in that thing for the next three or four years and never did forgive me for taking it to the dump when it became all rusted. Perhaps that explains why today he drives a little Miata, a roadster not much bigger than that little red salvaged car.

Christmas delay

Or should I tell the story of that other memorable Christmas 24 years later? By this time Rob was the eldest of 10 children. His brother, Tom, had moved away to Colorado with his two little boys. I had finally earned my degree and had a fulltime teaching job, which put us into a better financial position where we could afford to remodel our old house.

We had been breathing and wiping up plaster dust for months, cooking on a hot plate, and washing dishes in the bathroom sink. The good news was that our kitchen counter tops would be in place the week before Christmas and I would be able to cook our traditional turkey dinner for Christmas Eve.

As luck (and contractors) would have it, the countertops were delayed and wouldn't be in until the week after Christmas. I got this message in the hardware store and burst into tears right on the spot. My youngest son, Mark, was shocked and embarrassed by my emotional display. What kind of a Christmas would we have with Tom and his family gone and having the older kids home where I couldn't even feed them?

Flooded with joy

It turned out to be one of the best! We couldn't put up a Christmas tree in the new two-story family room where I had planned it, because the 22 foot fireplace wasn't finished. So we strung lights on the scaffolding instead. The older kids all arrived with food as well as gifts, and Rob and Lee brought their newborn son, Andy, our beautiful grandson.

Rob was still working on his journalism degree and had won a literary contest with a short story he wrote. We were flooded with joy as we gathered around the fireplace with its first fire.

With Tim accompanying us on guitar we sang Christmas carols and listened spellbound as Rob, sitting above us on the unfinished balcony with legs dangling over the side, read us his prize-winning story.

God's love

It turned out I didn't tell of either memory because another lady told of a frightening experience that made the same point. She was traveling with her family to Indiana one Christmas Eve to spend the holiday with her in-laws, when they ran into a blizzard that shut down their highway.

A police officer directed them to a shelter in a church, where they would have to spend the night with more than a hundred other travelers. Local people, responding to the call of their pastor, cheerfully left their own warm homes to bring them pillows and blankets to turn pews into beds and food to sustain them.

With full tummies these "orphans of the storm" spent a most memorable Christmas Eve singing carols before the manger under flickering candles and praising God for sending His Son to teach us how to love.

It's that "Reason for the Season" that permeates any circumstances.

Merry Christmas!

"Grandmom" likes hearing from other senior citizens who enjoy aging at P.O. Box 216, Fort Atkinson, WI 53538.