In the Name of the Father
This was written during Holy Week 2006.
This is Holy Week for Christians. For Catholics, it is the end of Lent, a time to move from reflection to celebration. Yet, for the myself and many of the members of my parish, Holy Rosary in West Seattle, this Holy Week is strangely unsettling. A few weeks ago, our priest, Father Jeffrey Sarkies, was removed . He said Mass on Thursday, and was banished on Saturday.
The Archbishop’s representative was careful to explain that Father Sarkies had been removed for ethical violations, and not any inappropriate contact with minors. Reading the story from the pages of the newspaper, Father Sarkies’ removal undoubtedly seemed like another in the litany of unfortunate scandals for the Catholic Church.
But at the parish level, this turn of events has been unsettling, casting a poignant tone to Lent. As we revisit, in the Gospels, the story of a man of great faith clashing with the church hierarchy, the irony of our own priest’s removal is hard to miss.
Father Sarkies was a good man. He brought numerous lapsed Catholics back to the church. He wrote prolifically of his own struggle to maintain faith in a culture of distraction and temptation. He was maddeningly insistent on the importance of helping the poor, the unfortunate, the disabled, the neglected. He often defended oppressed minorities. He spoke of the radical nature of Christianity, carefully pointing out that the word “radical” is derived from “root.” To him, “radical” meant returning to the root of the message of Jesus. In his mind, radicalism was the ultimate conservativism.
Then something happened, and this man of great faith was removed. Our priest of 15 years was no longer present. The parish and school staff were forbidden to speak with him. Rumors spread that Father Sarkies would not be allowed within 50 feet of the school. The Archbishop sent letters and emissaries to deliver his message, yet never appeared himself. A parish meeting was held, and communications specialists from the office of the Archbishop did their job, requesting that all communication with Father go first through the office of the Archbishop. It seemed like something out of The Cold War.
A priest friend of mine reminded me that when a Catholic walks through the doors of the church, he or she leaves a modern democracy and enters a medieval society. I have always seen this as a strength. In the face of the transient nature of modern life, the Catholic church at its best can provide a convocation of ideas, a mix of the traditional with the temporal. Great art, great religion, great ideas, and great football. That was my back seat pew version of Catholicism.
But, with the rapid removal and official censure of our extraordinary priest, the complexity of the bureaucracy of the church became uncomfortably evident. To me, it was a question of degree. The extraordinary punishment just didn’t seem to fit the alleged crime.
Was Father Sarkies paying a price for his outspokenness? Was the Bishop overreacting, as the winds from Rome seem less tolerant than ever? Have the fresh air and challenging ideas of Vatican II worn out their welcome?
In the end, a massive organization must protect its day-to-day interests. Children must be educated. The hungry must be fed. These are challenging days for the American Catholic hierarchy. Any hint of scandal must be met with decisive action.
Such was the case of our beloved parish priest. I have spoken with him, and he is doing well. He says he is at peace. But this is the man counseled my wife and I as we were contemplating marriage, held my children as they were being baptized, washed my feet during Holy Week services. Losing him is a great loss to my family and my parish.
In the 60s, during the clashes with police at the schoolhouse steps in Mississippi and Alabama, John Kennedy was reluctantly drawn into the struggle and forced to call out the National Guard to protect the black activists who bravely sought admission to all-white public schools.
When he asked one of the civil rights leaders where he got the idea to go up against the Southern powers that be, the leader said quietly, “from you, Mr. President. I listened to your inaugural speech.”
Those of us who feel Father Sarkies should be treated with dignity and respect aren’t coming up with the idea on our own. We learned it from him.
-Bill Jeakle
This is Holy Week for Christians. For Catholics, it is the end of Lent, a time to move from reflection to celebration. Yet, for the myself and many of the members of my parish, Holy Rosary in West Seattle, this Holy Week is strangely unsettling. A few weeks ago, our priest, Father Jeffrey Sarkies, was removed . He said Mass on Thursday, and was banished on Saturday.
The Archbishop’s representative was careful to explain that Father Sarkies had been removed for ethical violations, and not any inappropriate contact with minors. Reading the story from the pages of the newspaper, Father Sarkies’ removal undoubtedly seemed like another in the litany of unfortunate scandals for the Catholic Church.
But at the parish level, this turn of events has been unsettling, casting a poignant tone to Lent. As we revisit, in the Gospels, the story of a man of great faith clashing with the church hierarchy, the irony of our own priest’s removal is hard to miss.
Father Sarkies was a good man. He brought numerous lapsed Catholics back to the church. He wrote prolifically of his own struggle to maintain faith in a culture of distraction and temptation. He was maddeningly insistent on the importance of helping the poor, the unfortunate, the disabled, the neglected. He often defended oppressed minorities. He spoke of the radical nature of Christianity, carefully pointing out that the word “radical” is derived from “root.” To him, “radical” meant returning to the root of the message of Jesus. In his mind, radicalism was the ultimate conservativism.
Then something happened, and this man of great faith was removed. Our priest of 15 years was no longer present. The parish and school staff were forbidden to speak with him. Rumors spread that Father Sarkies would not be allowed within 50 feet of the school. The Archbishop sent letters and emissaries to deliver his message, yet never appeared himself. A parish meeting was held, and communications specialists from the office of the Archbishop did their job, requesting that all communication with Father go first through the office of the Archbishop. It seemed like something out of The Cold War.
A priest friend of mine reminded me that when a Catholic walks through the doors of the church, he or she leaves a modern democracy and enters a medieval society. I have always seen this as a strength. In the face of the transient nature of modern life, the Catholic church at its best can provide a convocation of ideas, a mix of the traditional with the temporal. Great art, great religion, great ideas, and great football. That was my back seat pew version of Catholicism.
But, with the rapid removal and official censure of our extraordinary priest, the complexity of the bureaucracy of the church became uncomfortably evident. To me, it was a question of degree. The extraordinary punishment just didn’t seem to fit the alleged crime.
Was Father Sarkies paying a price for his outspokenness? Was the Bishop overreacting, as the winds from Rome seem less tolerant than ever? Have the fresh air and challenging ideas of Vatican II worn out their welcome?
In the end, a massive organization must protect its day-to-day interests. Children must be educated. The hungry must be fed. These are challenging days for the American Catholic hierarchy. Any hint of scandal must be met with decisive action.
Such was the case of our beloved parish priest. I have spoken with him, and he is doing well. He says he is at peace. But this is the man counseled my wife and I as we were contemplating marriage, held my children as they were being baptized, washed my feet during Holy Week services. Losing him is a great loss to my family and my parish.
In the 60s, during the clashes with police at the schoolhouse steps in Mississippi and Alabama, John Kennedy was reluctantly drawn into the struggle and forced to call out the National Guard to protect the black activists who bravely sought admission to all-white public schools.
When he asked one of the civil rights leaders where he got the idea to go up against the Southern powers that be, the leader said quietly, “from you, Mr. President. I listened to your inaugural speech.”
Those of us who feel Father Sarkies should be treated with dignity and respect aren’t coming up with the idea on our own. We learned it from him.
-Bill Jeakle
posted by Friends of Didymus at 2:16 PM
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