I am grateful to the membership of the Long Island VOTF for inviting me here to meet with you today and in particular for asking me to talk about empowering the laity. This challenge has aided me in pushing my own thinking forward a little, and I thank you. But the brief time I have, and the complexity of the issues involved, as well as my wish to leave plenty of time to hear your comments and questions, means that I must get right down to business. So, the usual three sections. First, I want to say a little about the components of empowerment. If we are to be empowered, how will our empowered state differ from our currently unempowered or even disempowered condition? Second, what will bring us from disempowerment to empowerment? And third, as we begin to test the wings of our fledgling empowerment, what shall we tell our bishops that we expect from them, if they in their turn are ready for an adult church?

To begin, the components of empowerment are themselves threefold. The great Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky once wrote that human beings are distinguished from lesser creatures by their capacity to "take an attitude" to whatever they encounter. This thought buoyed up the remarkable Jewish psychiatrist, Viktor Frankl, when he ruminated on what it was that gave inner spiritual strength and a will to survive to some concentration camp inmates, and not to others. The Nazis, he said, can take away any and all of our freedoms, except the last freedom, the freedom to take an attitude. Not coincidentally, Frankl also thought that this inner freedom was the possession not so much of the physically strong, as of the spiritually strong. When we are faced with a challenge, we must call upon resources we already have in reserve. If we are in flight from an enraged bull, racing across a field to scale the wall to safety, it is of no earthly use to wish we had taken exercise and hadn’t eaten all those Krispy Kremes. Too late. Physical strength comes from working out, and spiritual strength comes from working out too. Spiritual work-outs are normally called prayer. So the habit of prayer will lead us to the capacity to take an attitude to our situation. It is, if you wish, a discipline for overcoming passivity.

Obviously, VOTF is a prime example of a group of people who have chosen to take an attitude to the dark side of the American church revealed to us over these past few years. The discomfort with VOTF in some quarters, and among some bishops, is a result not of our taking the wrong attitude, but of our taking any attitude at all. The problem that VOTF has come to be to some members of the church is not that we are angered by sexual abuse or by the failure of some bishops to address it, but that we have had the temerity to organize, to band together, to speak out forcefully and, at least by implication, to criticize the ecclesiastical status quo. In other words, we haven’t just taken an attitude, but we are people "with attitude," and that is discomfiting to those who would have us be merely "nice." The member-bishops of the USCC are all individuals, and they do not all agree, not even on issues like mandatory celibacy or the reinstitution of the female diaconate. But when they meet twice a year, no breath of disagreement is ever allowed to ruffle the calm waters of their collective public persona. A bishop never criticizes another bishop in public. This same polite reticence has marked the demeanor of the Catholic laity. It is what is expected of us, and it is time for it to stop.

If taking an attitude is the first step in empowerment, then taking responsibility is the second and far more difficult stage. Taking an attitude can stop with words or even thoughts, but taking responsibility carries us on to deeds. Just as taking an attitude is fuelled by prayer, so taking responsibility begins in an act of contrition. We laity who have decided to take an attitude and to move forward to taking responsibility are sorry that we didn’t do it sooner. Taking responsibility for our church is our responsibility as adult Catholics. We deserve our share of the credit for the strengths of American Catholicism, and we deserve our share of the blame for its weaknesses. "Our share," of course, does not necessarily mean an equal share with clergy and bishops. The present sorry mess is a direct result of a few abusive priests and a few derelict bishops, and indirectly enabled by centuries of weak ecclesiology. For most of that time, the laity were an unlettered lot, more unable than unwilling to take upon themselves the responsibilities of baptism, and victims to an ecclesiastical system which failed to point out to them the requirements of adult Christian discipleship. Educated laity in large numbers have only come lately upon the scene, but we are here now, and we have often been asleep in the hold when we ought to have been up on deck, assisting in steering the ship through whatever kind of seas it encountered and, by the way, keeping an eye on what the officers were up to. Hence, taking responsibility for our own adulthood, and taking responsibility for our church, turn out to be pretty much the same thing. What God has given us, we can just "have," or we can "own" it.

When we move from taking an attitude to taking responsibility, we come quickly to the principal barrier to our fuller participation in the church, namely, our lack of voice. Of course we can be noisy, and sometimes perhaps we should, but I use the term "voice" here in a more technical sense, as when say that someone who cannot vote in an election does not have "active voice" and someone who cannot be elected does not have "passive voice." Voice is the right to be heard, guaranteed through the structures of a particular institution. Our right to be heard rests in Vatican II and canon law. But the structures through which we can exercise that role in the church do not exist. In consequence, lay voice in the church occurs only in the following inadequate ways: (1) Bishop X asks a few of his benefactor friends what they think about this or that; (2) Bishop Y holds a "listening session" on a given topic; (3) The National Catholic Reporter does another telephone survey of Catholic opinion; (4) a group of laypeople stand outside the diocesan chancery office with their opinions expressed in brief on a few placards; (5) another group of laypeople walk out of church when Bishop Z gets up to preach, and give a short press conference to waiting reporters; or (6) we write to the newspapers and make ourselves heard that way. None of these, not even the listening session that the good Bishop Y has organized, is an adequate avenue through which our adult lay responsibility for the church can be given expression.

So how are we going to change all this? This is the structural problem, that we cannot change the structures because the structures do not permit us voice through which to try to move the church towards change. We are in what scholars call a classic "client" or "subaltern" relationship to the hierarchy, who in this regard are our patrons, our masters, even—dare we say it?—our oppressors. We laity are not oppressed in our church in any obvious way. No one is hitting us over the head daily with a blunt object. We do not go in fear of our lives. But we nevertheless suffer from a more insidious form of oppression, that of the structural oppression of the laity. Here, the villains are not bishops, but structures. And those at fault are all of us, clergy and laity, who live unprotestingly in such an oppressed condition.

In a church in which the laity are structurally oppressed, real structural change is unlikely to come about without a catalyst that arouses the hopefully righteous anger of the laity, and leads us into a new critical awareness of our ecclesial reality. For the church of the new millennium, that catalyst has been the terrible phenomenon of clergy sexual abuse. It has become a truism to say that every crisis is also an opportunity. Nevertheless it is true that in many places the sex abuse crisis, in particular the episcopal response or lack of response to it, has been the moment of truth for the laity. Beyond dealing with the crisis, which is ongoing, it is incumbent upon us to imagine a future beyond the crisis. Hence the calls for a reconsideration of issues of authority, governance and accountability, through which the laity are attempting to reclaim their rightful roles as responsible agents in the church, not merely passive subjects. Do not, however, underestimate the extent of the opposition, whether it be expressed in the institutional church’s call to a kind of faithfulness, or in the inertia of so many of our fellow Catholics, clergy and laity. In responding to the call of the Spirit, we must expect some church leaders to accuse us of tearing down the precious pillars of our mother church, and perhaps some lay people to find us disquieting. This is exactly what a context of structural oppression will call out of people. If structural oppression is indeed in place, then one of the consequences is that the objects of this oppression may very well prefer their captivity in Egypt to the long, hard road across the desert.

One of the problems with being in a state of structural oppression is that there is no way out without challenging those unjust structures. The sinister efficiency of structural oppression is that to work for change is too often to be open to the criticism that you seem to be tearing down the entire building. This was precisely the charge that the conservative, "curial" party at Vatican II made against the majority of the bishops, who wanted a reforming pastoral Council. But take heart, the reformers won, at least temporarily, and in the documents they left us, too often more honored in the breach than in the observance, there are the seeds of radical change. After Vatican II, we can comfortably claim that we are the people of God, living in a church which is bound to collegiality, even when it is lacking. We know that lay people and clergy together are apostolic, that we all have a calling to ministry. But forty years after Vatican II, we also know that there are powerful forces at work in the church that would rather not take the novelty of Vatican II seriously. To begin then, our first charge is to call for faithfulness to the vision of the church laid out at Vatican II. However, as we call for it, we need also to work for the vision. What practical things could we do now that would work around the structural oppression of the laity and move us towards a church which will throw off such sinful structures? Since we have a finite amount of time, I won’t give you an endless list. I would like to touch, however, on nine items that I believe we could profitably turn our energies towards. I have grouped them in threes, under the headings pastoral, theological and practical.

In the pastoral area, the first priority should be to make the structures we already have work better than they currently do. This means in the first place the effective functioning of parochial and diocesan pastoral and financial councils, as instituted by Vatican II. It means finding ways to reaffirm the teachings of Vatican II on the responsibilities of lay people in virtue of their baptism, on their apostolic freedom. It means pushing the church to recognize its own nature as collegial, not only the much-vaunted but hardly operational collegiality of the bishops, but also that co-responsibility of all of us for the church we love. Second, we need to get behind the movement for the restoration of the female diaconate. For all the words, church structures shout loudly enough that women’s vision and experience is not valued by the institution. To re-establish the ancient order of women deacons, if it did nothing else, would send a powerful signal that the work of service (diakonia) that women already do in the church needs formal recognition. It would also, inevitably, however we understand its relationship to priesthood, begin to undercut some of the worst features of clerical culture. Third, we need to move urgently towards a much greater role for lay people in the selection of their pastors and bishops. This, of course, is an old practice, not a new one, and something whose restoration would mean giving up nothing, doctrinally speaking.

I am a theologian, so you will pardon me the inclusion of some theological issues that need to be pursued, but I will do no more than mention these. They are a sustained theological reflection on the laity, a renewed theology of priesthood, and the involvement of lay people in theological education. We need to be much clearer about what a lay person is, theologically speaking. And, as Yves Congar wrote at the time of the Council, these days the priest must be defined in relation to the layperson, and not the other way around. And if we are to have more voice, to be empowered, we had better know what we are talking about.

Finally, there are three practical steps we need to work for. The first is for a free and responsible Catholic press. Of course there are the independent national Catholic journals like the National Catholic Reporter, Commonweal and America. And there are a few small journals on the right, like Crisis and The National Catholic Register. But what of the great mass of diocesan newspapers that are the only sources of church news for most lay Catholics? To judge by the diocesan newspaper in my own diocese of Bridgeport, the Fairfield County Catholic, the sex abuse crisis has barely ruffled the surface of the calm waters of deep Catholic faith. And you simply would have no idea that lots of lay people out there are hopping mad about the biggest scandal ever to hit the Catholic Church in America, or that there are serious issues to be discussed about accountability, education and so on. These papers and others like them, with their endless good news and propaganda, are like Pravda in the days of the Soviet Union, stolidly presenting an official truth that is seriously out of touch with reality. We need to work for a wider availability of publications like Commonweal and the NCR and America and, yes, like Crisis and The National Catholic Register, at the parish level, where they can stimulate lay thought about important issues in the church. We need to insist on lay editors whose jobs do not depend upon satisfying the bishop’s ideological litmus test, who know that their professional responsibility is to inform and educate the people of the diocese, and who are convinced that the truth, not the party line, will set you free.

The second practical step is to continue to withhold monies from organizations, parish or diocese, which do not publish fully independently audited accounts that disclose completely how the money provided by the laity of the diocese is spent, and which do not have their finances supervised by a lay board of suitably qualified women and men. This is sometimes a matter of trust, though most bishops and clergy are not embezzling money. But it is primarily a statement about the church: ordained ministry has no connection whatsoever to financial acumen or control, and ministry can frequently be impeded by too close proximity to money. Those with the best financial training and track record are "called" to take care of the community’s monies, and they will only very infrequently turn out to be ordained clergy. There is no justification, theological or practical, for anything other than fully open accounting.

The third and final topic under this heading is the ongoing fight against clericalism and its attendant careerism. In the present clericalist structure of the diocesan clergy, careerism is a constant threat. Some clergy are ambitious for the gospel, some for their next parish. Some want to be pastors, some want to be bishops. But the sad fact is that in the present church advancement goes too frequently to those who seek it rather than those who earn it. Consequently, too much effort can go into ensuring that the "right" things are done and none of the wrong things are said. While it is no doubt the case that the majority of clergy set out with high ideals and stick to them, the system being what it is, it is those who faithfully fulfill the expectations of their superiors who rise through the ranks. Relatively few promotions come from showing prophetic leadership skills or independent judgment.

I have two proposals for terminating careerism in the church. The first is to return to the pattern of the early church, in which under normal circumstances the bishop—who had been selected by the members of the local church—expected to remain for the rest of his life with the community to which he had been called. I doubt that this could always be the case, but think what it would mean for it to be the norm. Some of the pressures that can distract a bishop from looking out first and last for the good of the local church would simply disappear. Moreover, if translation to a larger, richer or more prominent see is not in the cards, then the bishop is freed to do what he thinks is right and say what he thinks is true, without fear of consequences. A similar stability could also be introduced into the expectations for parochial ministry. If this alarms those of you who suffer under particularly difficult pastors, let me say that it would also need to be accompanied by the kinds of changes in the way we select ministers that I included in my vision of the church of the future.

My second proposal is related to the first. I would immediately abolish the College of Cardinals. The office of cardinal is an anachronism, but that is not the primary reason why it should be abolished. Rather, it stands as a symbol of preferment, of the prestige and power that go to someone, not because he is a great bishop or pastor or theologian, a wonderful and courageous leader or a wise and discerning spiritual director. He gets to be a cardinal because the pope can say, "Come on in, you’re my kind of guy." For all but a very few, it is the last promotion in a lifetime of moving up the ladder. For some, it is the crown of their ambition. For many, it just happens. But for all, it makes them living symbols of power divorced from ministry and of the perks of a feudal society. So long as we insist on maintaining the cardinalate and its junior brother, the ranks of the monsignori, a similarly useless and empty honor, just so long will it be hard to dismantle clericalism.

So let us shoulder the burden of empowerment and accountability, let us accept the hard task of being adults in our church. But let me end with a caution. I do not think for a minute that the details of this or that initiative that I have suggested here are some of kind of blueprint, a perfect picture, or the only one, or the best we could possibly imagine. I shouldn’t think any of us could do that alone. And I certainly do not think that the Spirit of God speaks through my theological meanderings, or that of any one of us. But I am unshakably convinced that we are obliged by our baptism to take up the challenge of being responsible for our church. We are children of the Lord, not children of the bishops. So we need to be firm in our commitment to empowerment and accountability, but modest and humble about our personal preferences for the future of the church. The institutional church is rightly wary of people who invoke the Spirit to justify them grinding their own particular axes. The Spirit speaks not through my ideas or yours, but through the process in which, as Dorothy Day might have said, thought is clarified. But I also, for the life of me, cannot imagine the mighty wind of the Spirit looking down upon us and telling us, perhaps wagging a divine finger, that the church the way it is just right, that no further modification of structures is to be considered, and that we have nothing more to learn than a little ecclesial fine tuning. The spirit of God is not timid, or afraid of the future, and nor should we be. At Pentecost, the spirit turned frightened men into apostles, who fearlessly proclaimed the gospel despite the personal cost, and who marched confidently into a future whose outlines were considerably less clear than our own. We are bound to the gospel, we are bound to the best of our past, and we are responsible to the future. If the church lasts another ten thousand years, when they look back to us they will classify us as "the early church." Let us not let them down.

An open mike period followed.

• Speaker is puzzled by the choice of speaker for the Faith Conference of Fr. McBrien as speaker considers him a dissenter from church teaching.
• We are the church
• Speaker says she will not become member because she loves the Bishop like a father figure and considers herself a loyal daughter of the church.
• We are more Katherine of Sienna than Martin Luther.
• Read Vatican II – Speaker cannot find any evidence that it suppresses Vatican I
• If Bishop William Murphy had been a CEO of a corporation, he would have been voted out. Speaker sees two options for Bishop – Immediately open churches to VOTF and do something about the pastors.
• If Bishop William Murphy lifts the ban, are we ready to have a good meeting?
• Will Paul Lakeland share his qualifications with us?
• The Professor wants to educate laity. Why the discussion on feminism and Buddhism?
• If VOTF accepts teachings of Catholic Church then shy have Paul Lakeland speak? He is not against homosexuality. Does not consider it a disorder.
• VOTF is getting a little of what Bishop William Murphy got at the listening sessions.
• In the history of the Catholic Church many different things have been taught. It is an ongoing process.
• Speaker is a pew Catholic and appreciates VOTF. Concerned with what Jesus taught. We are not seeing this in our church leaders.