Rev. Mr. Owen F Cummings

1. Introduction

In the years following Vatican Council II, there has been a proliferation of substantive books and articles on the priesthood, both on theological issues and on more pastoral issues.  The permanent diaconate has not fared as well, at least in English.  Apart from the key essays of Karl Rahner in his Theological Investigations, the major books available are: Edward P. Echlin, The Deacon in the Church: Past and Future[2], James M. Barnett, The Diaconate: A Full and Equal Order[3], John N. Collins, Diakonia; Re-Interpreting the Ancient Sources.[4]  In my judgment, the major reasons for this paucity of publications is that the diaconate is still very young, and needs more time to generate substantial theological reflection from within its own ranks.

This essay on the permanent diaconate is a modest contribution that reflects on various images of the diaconate, various ways in which the diaconate is perceived.  These reflections deliberately oscillate between experience and theology.  At this time, debate continues about the role of experience in theology, about what experience might mean, about the role of community in the formation of experience.[5]  My approach is to see the community as the primary formative factor in Christian experience, but at the same time, to acknowledge that the individual appropriates experience and gives personal shape to it in the light of individual circumstances and reflection.  This oscillation will yield different images and characteristics of the diaconate by exploring the Church's rites of ordination and marriage, and by examining some perceptions of the diaconate as it is actually lived out.  Let us begin with diaconal ordination and marriage.

2. Diaconal Ordination and Marriage

The majority of permanent deacons throughout the world are married. There are, however, three categories of exception: permanent deacons who are celibate prior to ordination; permanent deacons who are widowed; permanent deacons who are divorced. In talking about the two diaconal sacraments of ordination and marriage, and the images of the deacon emergent from these, I have in mind the majority who are married, but in order to avoid any suggestion of exclusiveness, and, therefore of possible alienation, attention must also be given to these other three categories of deacon.

If we return to the charter of the diaconate in Lumen Gentium 29, it is noticeable that little is said of marriage and the diaconate: "Should the Roman Pontiff think fit, it will be possible to confer this diaconal order even upon married men, provided they be of more mature age..."[6] Nothing more is said. Marriage in relation to the diaconate is both undeveloped and underdeveloped - but perhaps the experience of marriage is the ingredient necessary for such development to occur.

My intention in this part of the presentation is three-fold: first, to conduct a brief examination of the respective rites of ordination and marriage, both fruitfully understood as sacraments of service, literally diaconal sacraments; second, to affirm that the sacrament of marriage is also a sacrament of encounter with the living mystery of God-in-Christ, co-equal in that respect with the other sacraments, in particular with holy orders; third, that the meaning of service/diakonia is central to the tradition of Catholicism because it reflects the triune God.

3. An Examination of the Rites of Marriage and Ordination

There is a tendency, at least at the popular level, to think of the sacraments of marriage and orders as equivalent to the celebration of the rites. Thus, one hears people say, "I was married so many years ago", or "I was ordained so many years ago". This way of understanding is most inadequate. The sacrament in both cases consists in the entire lives of the married and the ordained until death. The sacrament begins with the public celebration of the rite but does not end there. That is why for example getting married in church, that is, with the rite of Catholic marriage, means so very little unless being Church for the couple is an important priority. It is essentially being Church that makes the marriage fully sacramental, Church understood as the fundamental sacrament of Christ, Christ understood as the fundamental sacrament of God.[7]

A further point needs to be made about the sacramental rites of the Church. The Church has traditionally taught the axiom that lex orandi statuat legem credendi: the rule or shape of the Church's worship is the primary and fundamental and most important articulation and expression of the Church's teaching and doctrine. Aidan Kavanagh views the liturgy as theologia prima and all other theological expressions as theologia secunda.[8] Thus, if one wants to grasp the essence of the Church's views and teaching on marriage, one should go to the rite of marriage first before turning to secondary sources, however fine they may be.

The Rite of Marriage begins with the priest or deacon addressing the couple to be married with these or similar words: "My dear friends, you have come together in this church in the presence of the Church's minister and this community. Christ abundantly blesses this love. He has already consecrated you in baptism and now he enriches and strengthens you by a special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity..."[9] In this address, baptism is recognised as the basic sacrament, out of which marriage has grown; marriage is described as a sacrament of enrichment and strengthening; and the duties of marriage are to be assumed in mutual and lasting fidelity. The minister then proceeds to ask the couple; "... have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? Will you love and honour each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?" Marriage is self-gift, one to the other, "for the rest of your lives". Faithfulness and permanence are emphasized. The faithful, self-gift, one to the other, is then pledged in the declaration of consent by the bride and the groom, and is given expression in the exchange of rings, in the name of the Trinity.

The Rite of Ordination of a deacon commences with the calling and presentation of the candidate, the election by the bishop and the consent of the assembly. After the homily there takes place the examination of the candidate, in which the bishop asks five questions about his willingness to serve the people of God, according to the mind of Church. The promise of obedience to the bishop then follows, and after the Litany of Saints, the laying on of hands and the prayer of consecration. This beautiful prayer contains the following words: "Almighty God... You make the Church, Christ's Body, grow to its full stature as a new and greater temple. You enrich it with every kind of grace and perfect it with a diversity of members to serve the whole body in a wonderful pattern of unity. You established a threefold ministry of worship and service for the glory of your name... Lord, send forth upon him the Holy Spirit, that he may be strengthened by the gift of your sevenfold grace to carry out faithfully the work of the ministry... May he in this life imitate your Son, who came not to be served but to serve, and one day reign with him in heaven..." The prayer describes ordination as an enrichment and strengthening to serve faithfully in self-gift the local Church. Finally, the deacon is invested with the stole and dalmatic, and presented with the book of the gospels.

A careful reading of both the Rite of Marriage and the Rite of Ordination indicates very close similarities between them. Both marriage and ordination are sacraments of enrichment and strengthening; both are sacraments of self-donation, to one's spouse, and to the local church through the bishop; both sacraments are permanent; both have external signs of fidelity and of the pledge made.

4. Marriage as a Sacrament of Encounter Co-Equal with the Other Sacraments.

No one would question for a moment that the sacrament of Holy Orders invites and enables the ordinand to encounter and engagement with God-in-Christ. Sometimes, however, there is a sense that the sacrament of marriage is not quite equal in this regard. Central to the sacrament of marriage is the right ordering of sexuality, one of the most powerful of human forces and dynamics. Yet there is a certain reluctance to acknowledge the experience of sexuality as God-given, and a mediating encounter with God. Probing the reasons for this reluctance would demand a multi-disciplinary, co-operative effort, but some words of Karl Rahner might alert us to the central importance of the issue: "It must always be borne in mind... that in a true theology of marriage, marriage must really and truly not be regarded as a mere concession to human weakness (a conception attempted over and over again by an almost manichaean intellectual undercurrent in the Church), but must be seen to have an absolutely positive and essential function, not only in the private Christian life of certain individuals, but also in the Church. Marriage, understood as a sacramentally consecrated union, is both in and for the Church the concrete and real representation and living example of the mystery of Christ's union with the Church."[10] Our experience tells us that Rahner, retrieving the Church's traditional affirmations of marriage and marital sexuality here, is absolutely right. The bliss of falling in love with someone, the experience of love-making, the intensity of our attraction to another person - the cumulative, positive impact of these experiences suggests powerfully that human sexuality is of God, and is not outwith the presence of God.[11]

A powerful, narrative statement of the human-Christian reluctance to grasp the spirituality, the sacredness of sexuality is available in Alan Paton's novel, Too Late the Phalarope. In this story one of the central characters, Pieter van Vlaanderen, a devout South African Christian and a policeman, has a very difficult and taxing relationship with his wife, Nella. Nella has had a strict, Calvinist upbringing, as a result of which she cannot believe that human sexual pleasure is a good thing. In the course of the novel, Pieter speaks as follows: "And I wanted to cry out at her that I could not put the body apart from the soul, and that the comfort of her body was more than a thing of the flesh, but was also a comfort of the soul, and why it was I could not say, and why it should be, I could not say, but there was in it nothing that was ugly or evil, but only good. But how can one find such words?"[12] Sexuality is not of the soul which she equates with goodness, and therefore, sexuality cannot be of God. She subscribes to the latent manichaeanism of which Rahner speaks and not to the Hebrew and Christian doctrine of creation, with its basis in the creation narratives of the Book of Genesis. In the account of Gen.1:1-2:4a, the nucleus of the meaning of creation is found in the refrain, "And God saw that it was good", the refrain being repeated in 1:10, 12, 18, 21, 25.[13] After the creation of male and female in the image of God (vv. 26-27), that is, after the creation of sexuality, comes the affirmation of v.31: "And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good." Sexuality in the creation account is God's good gift.[14] In the early centuries of nascent Christianity, the omnipresent Platonic and Neo-platonic equation of soma-sema/the-body-as-a-prison-of-the-soul, led often to a low view of the body, and, therefore, to a low estimate of human sexuality: If, eschewing this Platonic dualism of soul-body and espousing the anthropology of en-souled bodies or embodied souls, then there emerges a more balanced view of the person, consonant with the doctrine of creation. Robert McAfee Brown describes the human person nicely like this: "... a total being who can do many different things - think, fight, remember, love, anticipate, copulate, sing, laugh, imagine. All the activities can be used for good ends, all can be abused and turned to evil ends."[15] Human sexuality and spirituality are not opposites, but are intimately and inseparably bound together.

A clear and tragic example of the negative consequences of failing to recognize this offers itself is the person of the great Danish thinker, Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855).[16] In 1841 he became engaged to Regina Olsen. Fearing that marriage might distract him from a total commitment and love of God, he broke off the engagement. The Jewish philosopher, Martin Buber, comments on Kierkegaard's decision: "That is sublimely to misunderstand God. Creation is not a hurdle on the road to God, it is the road itself. We are created along with one another and directed to a life with one another. Creatures are placed in my way so that I, their fellow-creature, by means of them and with them, find the way to God. A God reached by their exclusion would not be the God of all lives in whom all life is fulfilled... God wants us to come to (God) by means of the Reginas (God) has created, and not by renunciation of them."[17]

5. Celibacy, Widowhood, Divorce

The celibate, permanent deacon is a complementary sign to the encounter with God in and through marital sexuality. He is not a better sign, nor a more valuable sign - such distortions are human projections rather than a real reading of the situation. The fullness of the sign of celibacy resides in the deacon's ability to be more freely at the service of the Church. In the course of the ordination, the bishop addresses the deacon in these words: "... you will be more freely at the service of God and mankind, and you will be more untrammeled in the ministry of Christian conversion and rebirth."[18]

There has been very little reflection on the widowed deacon. The only such reflection that I have come across is from a deacon's wife. The widowed deacon continues, of course, to be a deacon, a servant of the Church, but his service is now invested with two special contributions in the area of Christian suffering and love: Christian theology has no tight conceptual answer or response to the problem of suffering, in this case suffering the absence of a loved one.[19] Bette Midler, the American singer and actress, has a great song "From a Distance", a spiritual song in which God sees our world and has compassion on it "from a distance". A great song, but bad theology! God entered into our world as a man, knows our humanity from the inside, and knows the experience of abandonment in death from the inside. This has been finely developed by the late Hans Urs von Balthasar, especially in his Mysterium Paschale.[20] For Balthasar, God is not distant from the experience of suffering and death, because he has been there in the experience of Jesus. The widowed deacon knows in his heart and soul the experience of abandonment, the loneliness in the death of his wife. "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?", are words written on the widowed heart. But even in this experience the deacon serves by proclaiming that he is not alone in his suffering.

The widowed deacon, because of his public position and ministry in the Church, can become an effective sacrament of the suffering and abandoned Christ, and through that experience may be able to witness more sensitively to others. The widowed deacon's service is also to be a vibrant sacrament of hope. In the "Preface of Christian Death I", in masses for the dead, we read, "Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended." The widowed deacon in the Catholic Church stands also as sacrament of the Church's hope that, in Julian of Norwich's beautiful words, "All shall be well... all manner of things shall be well."[21] Out of his hope he can serve others, especially in similar circumstances. Bishop Dale J. Melczek, chairman of the Bishops' Committee on the Permanent Diaconate in the United States, describes ministry in the Church in terms which lend strong support to this understanding of the widowed deacon's service. He writes: "The task of those in the Church's ordained ministry is principally to mediate the very presence, life and being of God to the Church, where the living God is continually revealed through Christ in the Holy Spirit."[22] The widowed deacon mediates the sense of God's strong solidarity in the suffering of his people and, through that conviction of solidarity, a profound sense of hope.

Something similar is true of the divorced deacon although little gets said of him. Divorce is a most complicated matter, but it is a legal statement that the relationship of marriage has broken down irretrievably. The Church finds the situation of the divorced deacon very difficult because of the clear, ecclesial teaching on the indissolubility of marriage, and also because of the public, ecclesial role of the deacon. How is one to comment on this most sensitive issue? The recent work of the accomplished Christian novelist, Susan Howatch, is helpful here. In her novel Absolute Truths[23] the Anglican Bishop of Starbridge, Dr. Charles Ashworth, is faced with the request to receive a divorced priest, Lewis Hall, into his diocese. Ashworth contemplates all the possible problems, for example, the possibility of scandal, the issue of re-marriage, the awkward social situation of such a clergyman at diocesan events. As it happens, however, Lewis Hall becomes an instrument of God's grace not only to the run-down parish in which he serves, but also to the spiritual life of Dr. Ashworth himself. One thinks of the Pauline theme of strength being made perfect in weakness.[24] Just as the widowed deacon may become a sign of God's nearness and hope in suffering, so the divorced may also become a tangible, living sign of hope. Our flawed human nature, the consequence and expression of original sin, which infects our lives and relationships, does not have the last word. With God's grace, and ongoing spiritual direction and discernment, the divorced deacon may have an ongoing role and witness and contribution in the Church.

6. Self Donation and God

The images of the diaconate which we have looked at so far spring from or are related to the sacraments of marriage and ordination. They find their unifying focus in the notion of self-donation, self-gift. The essence of the diaconate is self-gift:[25] the donation of self to one's spouse in marriage, the donation of self to the Church in holy orders. It is interesting to speculate on why this notion of self-donation is so important, so critical in the Christian tradition. The following thoughts are but the beginnings of an attempt to explore an answer.

Diakonia/service/self-donation is central to the tradition of Christianity because it reflects and participates in the very reality of the triune God. God creates and redeems. Did God have to create? Is there some inherent necessity for God to create? The traditional answer is in the negative. God needed and needs nothing to be complete. Why, then, does God create? The traditional answer of St. Thomas Aquinas is diaconate/self-donation/self-gift. Or, as Aquinas would have put it: "Bonum est diffusivum sui." Goodness is diffusive of itself. Goodness is like that, and the good God finds "natural" expression, so to speak, in giving of himself, in diaconate, in self-donation.[26]

Historically, debate has taken place about whether in order to redeem our fallen world, God had to become human, to suffer and to die. For example, Aquinas denies that incarnation was necessary for the restoration of humanity, "if 'necessary' means that people could have not been restored without it."[27] The debate is often regarded as futile today, because God did become incarnate, suffer and die. But perhaps there is an insight in the debate. If the incarnation and the cross were unnecessary, why did God act in this way? The answer is because self-gift/self-donation/diaconate is like that. It counts not the cost. John Macquarrie puts it like this: "lf we think of creation as taking place through that outgoing aspect of God's being which we call his Word, the second Person of the Trinity, then we can say that already in that eternal Word the suffering Messiah is included. For God was putting something of himself into the creation from the beginning, and eventually he must find perfect expression in the creation.

For the creation is no casual production. God cares about it, and especially for those creatures whom he has made capable of communion with himself. Wherever there is caring, there is vulnerability and suffering, or at least the readiness to suffer.[28]

The self-donation of God in creation reaches its unique climax in the total self-donation of Jesus on the cross. It is the same divine pattern of self-donation/diaconate that is the essence of marriage and diaconal ordination. The self-donation that is God wants to have and to hold, from the moment of creation onwards, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, until the final expression of self-donation in death. The self-donation that is God is willing to carry out the work of ministry, that is service, in creation until the climactic moment of service that is the redemptive death of Jesus on the cross.

7. Dysfunctional Images of the Diaconate: The Deacon and the Church

In looking at images of the diaconate in terms of self-gift, self-donation, it is also important to have regard to negative or dysfunctional images of the diaconate. Self-knowledge demands nothing less. There are dysfunctional traits that concern the deacon and the Church, as well as the deacon and his family.

With regard to the deacon and the Church one may point to five dysfunctional characteristics that impede diakonia/self-donation to the Church: ritualism, clericalism, anti-intellectualism, crusadism, negativism.

Ritualism is the tendency of deacons to get hung up on liturgical rites rather than attending to authentic liturgical service. A proper attendance to liturgical rites is not ritualism. Knowing the rites in detail, using them in personal prayer and spirituality, in such a way that the liturgy flows smoothly and with dignity enhances diaconal participation and serves the assembly. However, this does not always occur: Bishop John F. Kinney, addressing the "National Catholic Diaconate Conference" in New Orleans last year, had some critical remarks about the liturgical ministry of deacons: "Deacons need to be excellent in the liturgy, not second-rate as some of them are perceived to be. It takes study and practice and preparation. I know of no other way to be a good liturgist than study, practice and preparation."[29] The deacon must strive for excellence in the liturgy because, as "The General Instruction on the Roman Missal" has it, he "has first place among the ministers",[30] or in the expression of Aidan Kavanagh, "he is the assembly's prime minister".[31] The deacon's role as "butler in God's house, major domo of its banquet, master of its ceremonies" demands the excellent liturgical performance that enables prayerful participation by the entire assembly, including the other ministers.[32] This is not ritualism, but service.

A symptom of ritualism is when a deacon gets upset when someone else usurps his place in the liturgy, by word or action, intentionally or unintentionally. Confusion about or ignorance of the liturgical role of a deacon is widespread, and should be engaged by more adequate liturgical education. But the identity of a deacon should not be so tied to the minutiae of the liturgy in such a way that he feels diminished when this confusion or ignorance occurs.

The second dysfunctional characteristic is clericalism. Clericalism is defined in The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church as follows: "A term, often used in an opprobrious sense, for an excessively professional attitude of outlook, conversation, or conduct on the part of clergymen, or for the imitation of a supposedly clerical manner by lay persons..."[33] Expanding this pejorative definition, Bishop Melczek describes clericalism as "an ordained ministry that has grown fat, self-servicing and self-sufficient."[34] A deacon is a cleric. He is in Holy Orders and, contrary to what some think, he is not a "lay minister". There are times, it seems to me, when a deacon should dress clerically in order to signal his liturgical sacramental role in the community, and the better to enable his ministerial service. That is not what is intended by "clericalism". Clericalism occurs where a deacon is concerned about his status vis-à-vis the bishop, the priests and the laity. Clericalism happens when a deacon feels unaccepted, unappreciated, unaffirmed, especially by others in Holy Orders, and then compensates for this relationship deficit by over-emphasizing his clerical status.

The third dysfunctional trait is anti-intellectualism. Sometimes, one hears clergy, both priests and deacons, playing off the "pastoral" over against the "theological". The pastoral work, the pastoral demands of the Church, figure largely in their perceptions, and rightly so, but not when theology is seen as marginal to that work. Indeed, sometimes one hears clergy formally denouncing theology as irrelevant to ministry and to spirituality.

There is a widespread attitude in society that "elevates activity at the expense of thought and disciplined study, which devalues pure research in favor of applied, which turns the word 'academic' into a word of criticism, a synonym for 'irrelevant', 'impractical' or 'niggling'... And this mood has invaded the Church."[35] This is anti-intellectualism, and it is incredible for a deacon for two reasons.

First, it shows a most naive attitude to both pastoral work and to prayer and spirituality. When a deacon is working in the area of marriage, he is working necessarily with some understanding of marriage. That is theology. The presuppositions that he brings to his pastoral work are theological. Or, if a deacon is working with preparation for infant baptism, or with the Order for the Christian Initiation of Adults, an entire host of theological presuppositions comes into play here: What is a sacrament? What is the relation between nature and grace? What is grace? Are people saved who have no exposure to the Church and the sacraments? It is impossible to get away from theology either in pastoral ministry or in one's prayer life. The question is not whether to interest oneself in theology or pastoral ministry. Rather, the question is: "Is my pastoral work informed by solid and continuing work in theology? Or is my pastoral work stagnant because I have ceased to study?"[36] Aidan Nichols gives particular emphasis to the necessity of ongoing study for one who claims to have competence in theology: "(Theology) is a solemn engagement to developing over a lifetime the gift of Christian wonder or curiosity... As theologians, then, we commit ourselves to the lifelong study and reflection which the satisfaction of such curiosity will need."[37]

The second reason why anti-intellectualism is incredible is because it is a betrayal of the trust of the people of God. The ordinary people in the Church put their trust in clergy, including deacons, to be knowledgeable about the Christian faith, so as to be able to preach and teach adequately, in accordance with their ordination mandate. If an anti-theological or anti-intellectual attitude is present, there is a fundamental betrayal of the Church. Frances M. Young makes the point well when she says: "If the Christian community is to witness to the reality of God's presence in the world, it needs ministers and clergy who will accept the daunting but exciting task of theological enquiry..."[38]

The fourth dysfunctional trait is crusadism. As with the other traits, this is not exclusive to deacons. Crusadism occurs when a deacon becomes a "one issue minister"; when a deacon becomes over-enthusiastic about a particular issue, which, in turn, almost becomes his exclusive concern. At every opportunity this one issue gets aired, preach and acted upon, as though nothing else counted or mattered in the Church. What issues do I have in mind? One could find examples ranging from pro-life issues to marian devotions. There is nothing wrong, of course, with any such issues. They are all part of the patrimony and the tradition of the Church. The dysfunctionality occurs when an issue gets singled out and is identified with the deacon.

The fifth dysfunctional trait is negativism, and again it is neither exclusive of deacons, nor to the Church. Negativism can be found in many and varied sectors of society. Nevertheless, it is possible to point to what one might call a "general clerical malaise". This is a negativism which finds constant expression in criticism, carping, finding fault with all manner of things in the Church. Either the church is too conservative, or it is too reactionary; or the shortage of priests bodes the end of the Church as we know it, and so on and so forth. This kind of negativism is infectious and it also betrays a lack of faith in the Holy Spirit guiding the Church into all truth. The most effective antidote to negativism is a healthy pride in the Church, a pride that does not prevent the recognition of human sinfulness but sees also the manifestations of the divine glory in the Church, and a pride that enables one to give the Church one's wholehearted loyalty.[39]

8. Dysfunctional Images of the Diaconate: The Deacon and His Family

The five dysfunctional characteristics discussed above deal with the deacon as a churchman, one dedicated to the service of the Church. There are also dysfunctional traits that may exist in relation to the deacon's family, two in particular, messianism and exemplarism.

The Messiah is God's agent for a radical renewal and total transformation of the world, the one who will bring God's purposes for the world to its fulfillment. Messianism is the attitude that without me, the deacon wonderful, the Church will fall apart. The messianic deacon wants to be involved in everything that is taking place in his parish or community.

At one level, this expresses great and highly commendable enthusiasm. At the level of realism, however, messianism is a recipe for disaster. No deacon is competent to do everything that needs to be done in a parish. No deacon should feel that he needs to compensate for what is not being done in his parish by others. The entire parish should exemplify a network of collaborative ministries, in which the deacon has a place of leadership. He is not responsible for everything, nor should he feel guilty about feeling that he is not responsible for everything. Messianism translates into the feeling: "If I don't do it all myself, nothing will get done. There is no need comment on how such an attitude will impact the deacon's wife and family.

The second trait is exemplarism. Exemplarism comes from the Latin word exemplum, meaning 'example'. Good example is a moral obligation for all Christians, flowing from their baptism into Christ. Every Christian has a responsibility to build up the Body of Christ, not least by the personal example he or she gives: That is not what is intended by "exemplarism". Exemplarism happens when a deacon feels that his wife and family need to be flagships of familial propriety and domestic perfection: no harsh words, no relationship difficulties, attendance at every parish and diocesan event and celebration, experiencing no difficulties with the faith. Exemplarism is grossly unfair both to the deacon's family and to himself because it imposes unrealistic expectations, and the failure to realize them becomes a major source of stress, personal and familial. The varieties of temperament, character, stages of intellectual, moral and emotional development and maturity, which are featured in every family, are also present in a diaconal family. The deacon was ordained, not his family, and while support from his spouse and family is a normal and just expectation, neither he nor they should have ideals expected of them nor demands made of them which, in principle, would not be expected nor made of any other family in the parish community.

Once again, fiction can be of assistance to us in our reflections, this time in the novel of Joanna Trollope, The Rector's Wife.[40] At one level, Trollope's novel is a story about the attractions of adultery when a marriage has reached a dead end. At a deeper level, however, the novel is about what happens to individuals and their relationships when public expectations conflict with the realities and demands of their private lives. The rector in The Rector's Wife, Peter Bouverie, has spent his life and defined ministry according to what other people think, and he expects his family to do the same. The resulting tension is evident throughout the entire book. Gossiping village women become silent, or better fall silent when Anna Bouverie, Peter's wife joins them. Their daughter is most unhappy at school, because she is singled out as the rector's daughter, and is the butt of taunts and jibes. Peter does not permit his wife to teach - she is a linguist - because some of his parishioners might object to the rector's wife working. So, Anna spends her time working on small translation jobs, worrying about the family's dismal financial state, and doing the many parish tasks that are taken for granted both by her husband and by his parishioners. Eventually, after Peter is passed over for a promotion to which he thought he was entitled, his ministry and his marriage dry up. Anna seeks liberation in various ways, but her liberation is seen by Peter only as a series of betrayals. She has reneged on her proper role as a rector's wife. The real, root issue of Trollope's novel is that Peter and Anna Bouverie's sense of identity both as individuals and as a couple is constantly being defined by other people and their expectations. Peter Bouverie has internalized what I described as "exemplarism", and this drives his self-understanding, his ministry, and his marriage. Although the Bouveries' story is an extreme case, their predicament is one that deacon couples can understand. "Our special need is not to see ourselves as others see us, but to retain the integrity of that part of our lives that others do not see."[41]

9. Conclusion

By way of summary, the craft of being a permanent deacon consists in self donation in self  knowledge.[42]  The self-donation is to one's wife, family and the Church. The self knowledge is the prerequisite to enhance the diaconal virtues implicit in self donation, and to diminish if not eliminate the diaconal vices that impede this self gift, the dysfunctional traits discussed above. The diaconal self donation in self knowledge to which we are called as deacons is finely expressed in the "Prayer of Consecration" which we all heard on the day of ordination. Let me adjust the pronouns in this prayer to render it more personal:

"May I excel in every virtue:

in love that is sincere.

in concern for the sick and the poor,

in unassuming authority,

in self-discipline,

and in holiness of life.

May my conduct exemplify your commandments

and lead your people to imitate my purity of life.

May I remain strong and steadfast in Christ,

giving to the world the witness of a pure conscience.

May I in this life imitate your Son,

who came, not be served but to serve,

and one day reign with him in heaven."[43]

---

[1] These are re-published, along with some other helpful contributions in Foundations for the Renewal of the Diaconate NCCB/USCC, Washington, D.C., 1993.

[2] New York: Alba House, 1971. See also Echlin's articles: "The Deacon's Golden Age", Worship, 45, 1971, pp. 37-46; "The Origins of the Permanent Diaconate", The American Ecclesiastical Record, August, 1970, pp. 92-106.

[3] New York: The Seabury Press, 1979.

[4] New York and Oxford; Oxford University Press, 1990.

[5] The catalyst for much of the contemporary discussion is George A. Lindbeck, The Nature of doctrine, London: SPCK, 1984. The influence of Lindbeck on my own thinking may be found in my "Towards a Postliberal Religious Education", The Living Light, 28, 1992 and "Cyril of Jerusalem as a Postliberal Theologian", Worship, 67, 1993.

[6] Austin Flannery, ed., Vatican Council II: The Conciliar and Postconciliar Documents, Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1975, p. 387.

[7] The most significant primary texts for an understanding of Christ and the Church as sacrament are Edward Schillebeeckx, Christ the Sacrament of Encounter With God, London: Sheed and Ward, 1963, and Karl Rahner, The Church and the Sacraments, New York: Herder and Herder, 1965.  William A. Van Roo, The Christian Sacrament, Rome: Gregorian University Press, 1992. Helpful secondary literature includes:  Susan A. Ross, "Salvation in and for the World: Church and Sacraments", in Robert J. Schreiter and Mary C. Hilkert, ed., The Praxis of Christian Experience: An lntroduction to the Theology of Edward Schillebeeckx, San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1989, pp. 101-115; Geoffrey Wainwright, "Sacramental Theology and the World Church", in Catholic Theological Society of America: Proceedings of the Thirty-Ninth Annual Convention, vol. 39, 1984, pp. 69-83; Michael Skelley, The Liturgy of the World: Karl Rahners Theology of Worship, Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1991.

[8] Aidan Kavanagh, On Liturgical Theology, New York: Pueblo, 1984. Kavanagh's constant complaint in this excellent book is the inadequate perception of the principle, lex orandi, lex credendi, even among theologians. "Secondary theology even at its best, seems to approach the liturgical worship of Christians with a certain condescension and as not much more than a possible locus theologicus whose existence is to serve secondary theology and whose work must, therefore, be closely monitored" (p. 75).

[9] Quotations from the rites of marriage and ordination to the diaconate are drawn from The Rites of the Catholic Church, 2 vols., New York: Pueblo Publishing Co., 1976 and 1980, ad. loc.

[10] Karl Rahner, "The Theology of the Restoration of the Diaconate", in NCCB/USCC, Foundations for the Renewal of the Diaconate, Washington, D.C., 1993, p. 163.

[11] This is in no way to deny the negative and 'downside' elements that can exist in marital sexuality. Many, if not all human experiences necessarily have some element of ambiguity about them. For a careful exploratian of Christian sexuality see Rowan Williams, "Is There a Christian Sexual Ethic?",in his Open to Judgement: Sermons and Addresses, London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1994, pp. 161-177.

[12] Alan Paton, Too Late the Phalarope, London: Jonathan Cape, 1955. For a fine theological reading of the novel see Robert McAfee Brown, Persuade Us to Rejoice: The Liberating Power of Fiction, Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992, pp. 102-111.

[13] For standard biblical-theological accounts, see Robert Butterworth, The Theology of Creation, Cork: Mercier Press, 1969 pp. 25-43; Edmund Hill, Being Human, London: 1984, pp. 1-65; Gabriel Daly, Creation and Redemption, Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1988. For a superb Jewish analysis, see Jon D. Levenson, Creation and the Persistence of Evil, San Francisco: Harper-Collins, 1988.

[14] Robert McAfee Brown, Spirituality and Liberation, London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1988, pp. 99-100.

[15] ibid., p. 102.

[16] I owe these most helpful references to the work of Paton, Kierkegaard and Buber to the most insightful Spirituality and Liberation of Robert McAfee Brown, especially chapter 7.

[17] Martin Buber, Between Man and Man, New York: Macmillan, 1965, p. 52.

[18] The Rites, vol. 2, p. 52.

[19] Standard treatments of the theodicy issue such as John Hick, Evil and the God of Love, Basingstoke: The Macmillan Press, 1985, and Barry Whitney, What Are They saying About God and Evil?, Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1989, remain useful. However, they seldom if ever take account of the worship/liturgical/doxological dimension of suffering, which I regard as central to any response. For theological moves in this direction see Stanley Hauerwas, Naming the Silences, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990, pp. 80-84; Cor Traets, "The Sick and Suffering Person: A Liturgical/Sacramental Approach," in Jan Lambrecht and Raymond F. Collins, ed., God and Human Suffering, Louvain: Peeters Press, 1990, pp. 183-210; Rowan B. Crews, The Praise of God and the Problem of Evil: A Doxological Approach to the Problem of Evil and Suffering, unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Duke University, 1989.

[20] tr. Aidan Nichols, Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1990. For alternative theological articulations see Paul Fiddes, The Creative Suffering of God, Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1988.

[21] Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, tr. Clifton Walters, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1966, ch. 27, p. 103.

[22] Bishop Dale J. Melczek, "Keynote Conference Address on the Permanent Diaconate", Proceedings of the National Catholic Diaconate Conference, July 20-23, 1994, p. 9.

[23] New York: Alfred Knopf, 1994.

[24] 1 Cor. 1:20-31.

[25] See the remarkable essay of Bishop Mark Santer, "Diaconate and Discipleship", Theology, 81, 1978, pp. 179-182.

[26] See Brian Davies, The Thought of Thomas Aquinas, Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1992, pp. 144-149.

[27] ibid., p. 323.

[28] John Macquarrie, The Humility of God, London: SCM Press, 1978, pp. 66-67.

[29] Bishop John F. Kinney, "Diaconal Service in Pastoral Ministry", in Proceedings of the National Catholic Diaconate Conference, p. 17.

[30] Ralph A. Keifer, To Give Thanks and Praise: General Instruction of the Roman Missal, Washington, D.C.: The Pastoral Press, 1980, p. 40.

[31] Aidan Kavanagh, Elements of Rite: A Handbook of Liturgical Style, New York: Pueblo Publishing Co., 1982, p. 75.

[32] ibid., p. 76.

[33] F.L. Cross and E.A. Livingstone, ed., The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 2 ed., Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974, p. 305.

[34] Bishop Dale Melczek, op. cit., p. 12.

[35] Frances M. Young, Can These Dry Bones Live? The Excitement of Theological Study, London: SCM Press, 1992, p. 2.

[36] The same point is made by Bishop John F. Kinney, op. cit., p. 16.

[37] Aidan Nichols, The Shape of Catholic Theology, Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1991, p. 19.

[38] Frances M. Young and Kenneth Wilson, Focus on God, London: Epworth Press, 1986, "Foreword".

[39] See the interesting essay by John Macquarrie, "Pride in the Church", in his Theology, Church and Ministry, London: SCM Press, 1986, pp. 105- 112.

[40] Joanna Trollope, The Rector's Wife, New York: Random House, 1993. See the excellent review of Victoria J. Barnett in Christian Century, January 18, 1995, pp. 60-63.

[41] Victoria J. Barnett, op. cit., p. 62.

[42] For a magisterial understanding of what is involved in "self-knowledge" see Rowan Williams, "'Know Thyself': What Kind of An Injunction?", in Michael McGhee, ed., Philosophy, Religion and the Spiritual Life, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992, pp. 211-228.

[43] The Rites, vol. 2, p. 57.

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