All Men Need Intimacy. Even Priests
By Angela Mollard
But after four episodes and a speed read through Colleen McCulloch’s 692 breathless pages, I came to a single blinding conclusion: How dumb is it that priests can’t have sex? I raised it with my maths teacher. How can you concentrate on trigonometry when there’s a nonsensical rule called celibacy preventing the lovely Rachel from getting it on with gorgeous Richard? (Somewhat concerning was the priest being called Ralph, but I digress). Mr Thomas, as well as teaching Grade 11 maths, also headed up the school’s Christian Fellowship club. Poor man. Imagine having your benign little lesson in tangents hijacked by 20 teens pouring scorn on a central tenet of your faith. From memory, Mr T had a crack at convincing us of the merit of abstention but, as I say, we were 16 and throbbing to the beat of Culture Club. Not having sex for your whole life seemed utterly illogical. What a validation it is to fledgling adolescent instinct to therefore learn that the Pope at the time was enjoying, if not a sexual relationship, then certainly an intimate one.
Pope John Paul II had a close relationship with a married woman lasting 30 years according to letters unearthed by BBC documentary makers. “I would say they were more than friends but less than lovers,” says Edward Stourton, the journalist who has pored over more 350 letters between the Pope and Polish-born philosopher and writer Anna-Teresa Tymieniecka. There’s no need to go into what the relationship was or wasn’t. What matters is that it was something. That this man of greatness, the revered mouthpiece of God, needed something that we all need: intimacy. And if we can acknowledge that, we can acknowledge so much more. At a time when our nation is broken and angered by the Catholic Church, when a cardinal so many upheld stands quivering on the other side of the world, this insight into the church’s humanity should serve as a guiding star to the faith and all who follow it. Because it’s one of the great mysteries that we have chosen and anointed as our moral and spiritual shepherds men who have half the emotional experience of your average 22-year-old university student.
Celibacy is not solely responsible for the sexual abuse that has infected the church and left so many lives ruined. But even George Pell (does he still deserve the dignity of a title?) told a parliamentary inquiry that celibacy “might be a factor in some cases” of abuse by priests. Of course it’s a “factor”. Intimacy is a basic human need up there with food, shelter and sleep. It’s elemental to our wellbeing. Denying intimacy and insisting on celibacy as a prerequisite for ministry is not a sacred act but a dark tunnel to a life of secrets, torment and hypocrisy. You only have to look at pictures of Pope Jean Paul II and Anna-Teresa camping and on a ski holiday to understand that human love nourishes. We only have his letters, not hers, but his reveal that she was “torn apart” by her feelings for him and longed to “be in his arms and remain there in happiness”. When she told him “I belong to you” he gave her his scapular, a clerical garment worn next to the skin. Whatever you think of religion generally, a fear of intimacy has poisoned the Catholic Church (it’s been no great shakes for Islam either). Intimacy calls on our deepest honesty yet when we suppress it we cultivate the conditions for shame and secrecy to take root. Indeed, banning relationships hardly prepares a priest for pastoral care. Just as you wouldn’t call upon an electrician to solve a plumbing problem, why would you turn to a priest to help solve a family issue? Especially one who bans birth control and bars women from ministry. If the church is to survive the global unveiling of its sickening sexual abuse it needs to reframe intimacy as a normal and necessary pillar of life. Celibacy may remain, but as a choice, not a pointless practice that infects and erodes the compassion that should be the cornerstone of service. You see, I’ve seen The Thorn Birds with a different ending. One of my flatmates through university fell in love with a priest. For years she talked about him, loved him, desired him. When he left the priesthood for a relationship with another woman, she was devastated. Fortunately for her — and her long-suffering friends — the relationship ended. Slowly, quietly, my friend and the former priest became lovers. He took a job in the corporate world. They married and had three gorgeous boys. They’re still heavily involved in the church, minus the robes and incense. Instead they offer much more: openness, mutual support and integrity. They are what a church should be. We can only hope they, and their like, will be its future.
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