Love for the Bishop
By Fr. Conor Donnelly
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In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins, and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.
We are told in the Acts of the Apostles, “Take heed to yourselves, and to the whole flock, wherein the Holy Spirit has placed you bishops, to rule the church of God” (Acts 20:28).
History speaks to us of men who by the force of their personality and the power of their words have swayed the minds, won the hearts, and subjugated the wills of the multitudes that came within the orbit of their influence.
During their lifetime, mighty movements deeply affecting the course of history took place at their bidding, and the destinies of peoples trembled on their decisions.
These great ones of the earth have passed away, and their memory, though it may still kindle the imagination, is powerless to warm the heart and win for them the affection of the generations that have succeeded them.
But twenty centuries ago, there appeared in an eastern land one who, unlike all the others, has been able after his death to arouse in the hearts of men either fierce hatred and implacable hostility, or passionate love and ardent loyalty.
In each successive age are being literally fulfilled the words of the prophecy which greeted his entry into the assemblies of his fellows.
“Behold, this child is set for the fall and for the rise of many” (Luke 2:34).
Having grown to manhood, he trod the highways and the byways of his native land, addressing all who would give him a hearing.
The charm of his personality was magnetic, and his speech irresistible. “Never did man speak like this man” (John 7:46), they said.
His voice trembled on the air, stirring the hearts of his audience strangely, opening unknown horizons to the aspirations of their souls, and revealing to men that dazzling supernatural destiny that awaited them.
His words drew all hearts to him with an attraction in which strong love was mingled with reverential awe.
He too died after a brief sojourn on earth. But the tones of that voice which charmed the fisher folk on the shores of the lake of Galilee have never died on the air.
They ring through all ages and penetrate with the same persuasive charm and the same compelling power to the very ends of the earth.
They reach men absorbed, as were the apostles, in the ordinary affairs of human life, startle them out of the tranquility of their obscure existence, and bid them with an imperiousness which there is no resisting to leave aside the accustomed task and enter on a life of arduous labor. A labor which, when crowned with success, involves the crucifixion of the toiler, a labor of conquering the world by teaching men to conquer themselves.
We are told in scripture, “Raising up the needy from the earth, that he may place him with princes, with the princes of his people” (Ps. 112:7–8).
As of old, the voice of Jesus summoned the apostles from the peaceful pursuits of the fisherman’s life to the perilous eminence of the chiefship of the church.
So in times following, it calls others from the hidden and obscure toil that is the lot of the ordinary priest to take position with the princes of the kingdom of Christ by entering the ranks of the episcopacy.
That sweet, strong voice must have lost none of its persuasive force over the human heart, none of its might to bend the reluctant human will. Else, humbleness would shrink from the great dignity thrust upon it, and human weakness from the crushing burden laid upon it, when the goodness of Jesus offers to one of his creatures the plenitude of the priesthood.
Were the appeal not weighted with Christ’s own authority that admits of no reply, no one who looks upon these things with the eyes of faith would accept that which appears to the thoughtless or the ambitious nothing but high honor and distinction.
The episcopate is in truth a great dignity, the richest with which the merits of Christ have enriched the church. But it is a dignity that is empurpled by the blood of the Savior. By the rite of consecration which we have witnessed occasionally, the elect is exalted to the summit of the sacred hierarchy of orders. In him, the sacred character of the priesthood receives its ultimate complement and its full perfection.
But it must be remembered that Our Lord Jesus Christ donned the priestly robes when he was invested with the chasuble of derision, crowned with a diadem of thorns, and had laid upon his shoulders the heavy burden of the cross. And that he exercised the highest act of his priesthood at the moment that he was crucified to death on the cross.
In the new law, the perfection of the priesthood carries with it the perfection of victimhood.
The office to which the elect of today is called is one which, while carrying with it the highest distinction, is worthily undertaken only by one who is insensible to honor. It gives an eminence on which can safely stand only he who knows how to sink to uttermost abasement before his God. And it is a power which can be usefully wielded only by him who has learned to spend himself to the last in the service of others.
Jesus is the source and fountain of all that supernatural light with which the church glows and that supernatural life with which it palpitates.
And he has created the episcopal order as that by which alone that light and that life which resides in him is to reach the faithful.
“As the Father has sent me, I also send you” (John 20:21), says St. John.
These words were addressed to the apostles, but they apply with the same force and in the very same sense to all those who were to succeed them in their charge.
The apostles, commissioned to instruct and sanctify all men to the end of time, could, in virtue of the fecundity of the priesthood existing in its fullest perfection in them, live in those on whom they laid their consecrating hands.
What Christ said to Andrew and James and John, he said to each and every one of the bishops who succeed to their pastoral office.
My word is law in this world and in the world to come. So also for you. “Whatsoever you shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever you shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matt. 18:18), we are told in St. Matthew.
“And therefore he that hears you, hears me; and he that despises you, despises me” (Luke 10:16), says St. Luke.
The sacred hierarchy, considered from the point of view of jurisdictional power, consists of the supreme pontiff and the episcopate.
These two powers for the government of the church are of divine institution and so belong to the essence of the church’s constitution.
All other jurisdiction is of ecclesiastical origin.
Holy and sublime indeed are the prerogatives attached to the power of orders. Yet they are limited. The right of ordination does not impart authority over the mystical body of Christ. It gives power only over his sacramental body. At his ordination, the priest is made judge of the human conscience and so may absolve from sin. But he cannot use the wondrous faculty thus accorded him except with permission of his ecclesiastical superior.
The priest enjoys the ineffable privilege of being able to offer up the adorable sacrifice of the Mass, and this is a glory which is denied to the angels. But he cannot consecrate the chalice in which the precious blood is poured, nor the altar on which the victim is laid, nor the temple in which the altars are erected.
Furthermore, though the priest can bless and absolve and change bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, all that wonderful power is confined to himself. He cannot impart it to others. When he dies, the effectiveness of his priesthood ceases. But not so with the bishop. He who is called to the summit of the hierarchy is free from all these limitations. Christ communicates to him the priesthood in its fullness of sanctifying force and divine fecundity.
He who has received the episcopal character may die, but the sacerdotal unction received at his consecration has overflowed on others whom he has ordained or consecrated, and continues to exercise its life-giving influence after his death.
He it is that maintains the whole line of priests and that gives to the church its everlasting and imperishable character.
He not only sacrifices and absolves, he gives power to others to do the like. By the fullness of divine energy of the priesthood in him, he can multiply his priesthood in other men.
The whole palpitating life of the church receives from him its vital impulse. He is the beating, living heart of that portion of Christ’s flock which he is called to govern.
It is he that unlocks the tongues of the newly ordained and sets free the flood-tides of absolution. It is he that places on their lips those words which bring Jesus on our altars and constitute him a victim pleading with the justice of his Father on behalf of erring humanity.
From him, all blessings come, and by him all light of doctrine is diffused. And when he disappears, a complete paralysis seizes on the church over which he rules. There is no longer any sacrifice on the altar, no divine host in the tabernacle, no heavenly food for starving souls, no pardon for sinners, no light for the uninstructed, and no consolation for the dying. The faithful weep around their ruined altars and finally disappear themselves.
Such is the fate of many places that were once flourishing centers of Catholic life. Such has been the fate of the great diocese of Hippo in Northern Africa, that counted a martyr in its line of bishops, and which is now but a name preserved by our holy Mother Church, that ever mourns the loss of her children and never allows their memory to fade from her mind.
Superior to the priest in this, that he can transmit the power that is in him while the priest cannot, the bishop has a further title to preeminence in that he is divinely appointed to instruct, to guide, to sanctify, and to govern the part of the Lord’s flock that is entrusted to his care.
He who occupies the lower rank in the sacred hierarchy has received no such commission.
The Holy Spirit, as the words of the text express it, has placed bishops to rule the church of God, and the duty devolves on them and on them alone to judge, to interpret, to consecrate, to ordain, and to confirm.
The bishop speaks on his own authority. The priest is but his herald, having no voice but the bishop’s, no message but such as is given to him to convey to the faithful.
Should he presume to teach in his own name, in opposition to or without commission from his higher ecclesiastical superior, his utterance is an utterance which is no longer salutary but baneful, which carries death and not life.
The psalmist tells us, “Their throat is an open sepulcher. The poison of asps is under their lips” (Ps. 13:3).
It is true that the bishop receives his appointment from the supreme pastor and cannot legitimately exercise his function except if he is in union with and subordination to the see of Rome. Yet once appointed, he rules in his own name and of divine right.
The promise that was made to the college of the apostles with regard to the whole world, that Jesus would be with them all days even to the end of the world, that same promise is made, due proportion being observed, to each bishop with regard to his own flock.
The head of a diocese does not stand in exactly the same relation to the Pope as the priest does to his ordinary. The bishop is a divinely constituted teacher and interpreter of the law of Christ, whilst the priest’s power is restricted to conveying that interpretation to the people.
This great authority invested in the bishop is given him by God, not for destruction but for the edification of the mystical body of Christ.
It is his duty to subject his mind to the sense of the scriptures, that he may thereby be enabled, for the enlightenment of his people, to shed light on the great truths of the faith.
Whilst illuminating their minds, he labors to mold their wills to obedience to the laws of the Christian life. He has full control over all aspects of human conduct that have a bearing on man’s supernatural destiny. And what form of activity, public or private, is not intimately bound up with that end, either leading men thereto or turning them aside therefrom?
The final end projects its influence over every aspect of a Christian’s life.
The true pastor is vigilant to study the different movements that agitate society, for on him lies the obligation of judging what makes for good and what for evil in the practical decisions and determinations of men.
He is the authentic guide and teacher in these matters. His judgments are weighted with more than human gravity and cannot be gainsaid without extreme rashness and grave danger of error. They are the fruit not merely of human prudence, they are the issue of a prudence not left to its own resources but sustained by the ever-abiding assistance of the Holy Spirit.
That assistance has been promised to him on whom is laid the charge of souls, and it is given in no niggardly fashion. God is generous, and “God does not give the Spirit by measure” (John 3:34), says St. John.
Every Catholic child knows, of course, that it is only a decision concerning faith or morals emanating from the whole episcopal body in union with its head and directed to the universal church that has set on it the seal of infallibility.
Nevertheless, once the Holy Spirit has appointed a man to rule a province of the kingdom of Christ with the obligation of guiding its members securely in the way of salvation, it is impossible that he, the Holy Spirit, should refuse the assistance of his grace to his chosen one when grave issues of conduct have to be decided.
The sacred character of consecration establishes a title to and creates an exigency of such assisting grace.
Thus St. Paul, writing to Timothy, encourages him saying, “Let no man despise your youth” (1 Tim. 4:12).
Well might St. Paul say this. But the wisdom of the youthful prelate’s government is not that which comes with the passage of years, but that which is derived from the instinctive promptings of the Holy Spirit.
What the ordinary instructions of the head of the church are to the entire body of the faithful, such are proportionately the injunctions of the bishop to his own flock.
And as the Pope’s pronouncements, even when not definitive, not only exact the subjection of the will but furthermore require the adhesion of the intellect of every loyal Catholic, so too the good Christian should promptly judge that course of action to be best which seems to be so to the pastor who has been placed by the Holy Spirit to rule the church of Christ.
Such ordinances cannot be resisted without incurring the guilt of disobedience and without grave peril to the soul.
The words of the Pontifical recited over the elect are full of grave import. They say, “Cursed be he that curses him, and may he that blesses him be filled with blessings.”
It is the extreme of folly to plead the reasonings of the human intellect, no matter how gifted, no matter how deeply it may be versed in natural or in sacred science, against the decisions of the episcopal authority.
The light of natural reason is very faint and feeble as contrasted with that with which the human intelligence glows when, penetrated with faith, it is resplendent with the grace of illumination attached to the episcopal office.
These graces of light, these subtle suggestions of the Holy Spirit, are not given to ordinary priests, for it is not so much their office to teach as to transmit the teaching of their bishops. The teaching of bishops when they are in communion with the vicar of Christ is safe and availing to salvation, for it is sustained by the assistance of the Holy Spirit. And that aid is accorded not merely for special crises and in isolated cases. It is ordinary, constant, abiding, and unfailing.
The bishop, therefore, is the bond of unity in his diocese, the sacred force which holds together the different elements which compose the Christian edifice. All his priests, subject to him and attentive to his instructions, may employ the resources of their own talent and their own science, but they convey the same message of light and of grace to the scattered members of the flock.
No diversity of action, no want of harmony in belief can arise when all derive their knowledge from a unique source.
Thus the priests speaking in the name of their bishops, the bishops governing in their own right but in union with and subjected to the authority of the Pope, and the Pope in his turn exercising power over the whole body of the faithful. Such is the glorious constitution of the church of Jesus Christ, marvelously beautiful in the harmony which binds its varied elements together and stamps it with the wisdom which bears the mark of its divine origin.
The episcopal character realizes in itself and contains in an eminent way the virtues and powers that belong to each rank in the sacred hierarchy. And even though the sacerdotal ordination confers the same power over the sacramental body of Christ as that enjoyed by the bishop, still the manner in which the latter publicly offers up the holy sacrifice expresses the preeminence of the priesthood as it exists in him.
In his person, it is the whole sacred hierarchy that moves and acts and accomplishes the supreme act of worship.
His head is crowned with the miter, the symbol of his doctrinal and teaching authority. And in his hand he holds the crozier, the emblem of government and pastoral care. As he stands at the altar, he is clothed in the majesty of Jesus Christ himself, whose person he represents.
To exercise such an exalted office demands a high sanctity, because it is incumbent on the bishop not merely to tend towards perfection himself, he must lead others to the summit of perfection.
The magisterium perfectionis, the perfection of teaching, says St. Thomas, is his. He must not be a disciple but a master in the science of sanctity.
This is a thought which is calculated to inspire the soul with dread, but he need not shrink from the task to which he is called. When God calls to an exalted office, he imparts the faculty of discharging it worthily. God’s power is not limited to conferring the external trappings of dignity, as is that of an earthly potentate. The latter may confer the honor of knighthood and bestow the insignia of that order of chivalry, but he cannot endow his subject with a knightly and chivalrous soul. It is not so with God. When he calls one of his ministers to the supreme rank in the hierarchy, and no one may dare to take the honor to himself except called thereto by God, as Aaron was, he confers with the episcopal dignity the episcopal soul. As the hands of the consecrator are imposed on the elect and the sacred oils descend on his head, the character of the priesthood receives an energy, an expansion, and a development which it had not heretofore.
The sacerdotal unction penetrates more deeply into the essence of the soul and spreads itself through all its powers, filling the anointed one with grace and enabling him to fulfill the duties of his state in a manner worthy of that state.
All that is required on the part of the elect for that grace to produce its effect is that he should hold himself in an attitude of profound abasement before God and a disposition of deep humility united with great confidence.
He must not look upon his dignity as something which exalts him in the eyes of others, but as a means that makes it possible for him to sacrifice himself more completely for men and to espouse more thoroughly the interests of God.
A ring is placed by the consecrating bishop on the finger of him who is consecrated, a symbol that signifies that henceforward his life, his health, his powers of body and of mind, are to be given without reserve to the see to which he is called.
His interests are to be indissolubly wedded to those of his charge. It alone must have the affections of his heart and the preoccupations of his mind.
Set to watch over the flock, for such is the meaning of the term episcopus, a watcher, his vigilance must never relax by day or by night. Error is ever active, insidious, inventive, and tireless. All the force of his intellect, illuminated by faith and rendered keen and penetrating by his paternal anxiety, must be directed to watching the approaches of evil, and all his authority used to crushing its progress, not abandoning a just severity for mildness.
Vigilance must be combined with fearlessness, because the effort to do good invariably arouses opposition, opposition due to the hostility of the wicked and the mistaken zeal of the good. The pursuit of righteousness is not to be renounced on account of the clamorous enmity that is ever roused against it.
Animated with zeal for the salvation of souls, for the triumph and exaltation of the church, and for the glory of God, the servant of the Lord must step forward intrepidly in face of calumny and outrage, remembering that “all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Tim. 3:12), as we are told in the letter to Timothy.
Strong therefore in this view of faith, and with great confidence in the bounty of God our Father, who refuses not his grace to those who ask it, with courage assume the burden which the divine will lays upon you.
And to terminate with the words of the Pontifical, may God, the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who has willed to raise you to the dignity of the pontificate, endow you with the fecundity of spiritual benediction. Whatsoever you shall bless, be it blessed, and whatsoever you shall sanctify, be it sanctified. And may the imposition of the hand of the consecrator be profitable unto all salvation. Amen.
I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this time of prayer. I ask your help to put them into practice. My immaculate Mother, St. Joseph, my father and Lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
EW