Bishop Brendan Comiskey, who has had more than his share of media attention in recent years, hardly set out this week to raise once more the controversial issue of compulsory priestly celibacy in the Catholic Church. After all, when he called for a debate on the issue in June, 1995, he was publicly rebuked by the Primate of the day, Cardinal Daly, and ordered by Cardinal Gantin, head of the Vatican's Congregation of Bishops, to retract his views and desist from further comment on the matter. Still, when the question was put to him on RTE radio last Tuesday in the context of declining vocations and the consequent closure of St Peter's seminary in Wexford, he gave a plain, honest answer. The debate on celibacy would not go away, he said. "The question will continue whether or not some people would like it to stop. You can't stop people asking questions - it is a normal, intellectual exercise of rational, mature adult people."
Bishop Comiskey's remarks are incontestable common sense. Yet on this question - as on so many others - the official Church repeatedly attempts to do the impossible: to stifle debate, to declare the issue "closed" by force of diktat, to close ranks and hope that awkward issues will simply go away. Rather than welcoming the engagement of rational, mature, adult and, yes, questioning members of the clergy and laity, it gives the appearance of hankering for the docile flock of the days before Vatican II.
The official teaching on compulsory celibacy, as set out in the current Catechism of the Catholic Church, explains that priests are called to "consecrate themselves with undivided heart to the Lord" and "give themselves entirely to God and to men [sic] . . . Accepted with a joyous heart, celibacy radiantly proclaims the Reign of God." Many, perhaps most, priests experience celibacy in such unambiguously exalted terms; but for many others - and for many would-be priests - the rub lies in the preceding phrase, "ac- cepted with a joyous heart." For, through no fault of their own, they cannot find this joyous acceptance within them. The dilemma was succinctly expressed some time ago by Father Jackie Robinson, of Aghaboe, Co Laois, when he wrote: "Celibacy was part of the deal and, if we are to be honest, some of us accepted this part of the bargain rather than chose it. Therein lies the problem."
One of the arguments advanced in favour of celibacy is that it makes priests more "Christlike", as Jesus himself was presumed to have been celibate. But St Peter, founder of the Church, was married. So, probably, were most of the other apostles. So were many of the Popes and clergy of the Church during the first millennium of its existence. So too, of course, are the former Anglican clergy accepted into the Roman Catholic priesthood in recent years.
Undoubtedly, celibacy can be a powerful and practical expression of total commitment to ministry and a positive source of spiritual energy. But should it be compulsory? At a time when many fine men are leaving the priesthood to marry and many others are declining "the call" because of the marriage ban, at a time of new insights into sexuality and human relationships, surely this question must be debated freely and openly within the Church. It does not seem a lot to ask.