December 16 - Diary of a Country Priest

Here is a paper that I wrote for Dr. Kalas in preaching class. He wanted to make sure that we were not just better preachers, but broader preachers; that is, preachers who had more exposure to literature. We had a list of books from which we could choose. I chose Diary of a Country Priest by Georges Bernanos. I was blessed by this choice, particularly as a green, white-knuckle, young minister. It is the story of a young priest appointed to a rural parish. He struggles with how to be in ministry and wether he is effective or not. I recommend it highly for people who struggle with whether their life makes a difference or not.

Grace and peace,

Trav Wilson

------------------------------------------

Introduction. Being a first year clergyperson, especially in a rural two-point charge, is like dusting blindfolded in a china shop. One’s blindness only fades through actions that sometimes break the priceless treasures with which we are charged. Yet somehow God’s grace abounds. This truth plays out in Georges Bernanos’ Diary of a Country Priest. Set between the First and Second World Wars, this is the story of a young Catholic priest appointed to a two-point charge in Ambricourt, a rural village in the Pas-de-Calais département in northern France. Troubled by health problems that eventually lead to his death, this is a bittersweet novel about a young priest finding hope in the midst of hopelessness, vital piety in the midst of village hum-drum, and divine grace in the midst of rational argument.

Formation. This novel reminded me of how grace can flow in the absence of hope. In June 2002, Bishop Robert Fannin appointed me to serve the Munford-Bethlehem charge in northern Talladega County, Alabama. The first death in my congregation happened within 6 hours of my first sermon. The 60 year old, Down’s syndrome stricken son of a beloved elderly couple in the Bethlehem Church died. He had lived twice as long as the most generous estimates of his lifespan. His long life remains a testimony to his parents’ love and care.

My heart is repeatedly challenged by the realities to which the world throws it. My heart is also salved by the generosity and grace that I find frequently in these trying situations. I found myself the griever-in-chief of a group of 60 people, ushered into the humble home of a darling couple in their 80s, both of them practically crippled, as if I were the President of the United States, and as if the grief could not begin, or would not begin without my arrival. To be frank, I really did not know what I was doing. I introduced myself to the grieving mother and father. I sat mainly with the mother, extended my condolences, and asked if I could pray with the family. And pray we did. It was a simple prayer. I really do not remember it. Then I asked them to tell me their son’s story. We talked for about an hour. That day I learned that above all, people not only want to hear a story, they want to a tell a story, especially the story about those that they love the most.

I imagine our young priest would have understood my feelings of inadequacy. He had his own. Yet somehow, grace happens; it’s everywhere. Our young priest seemed to be burning at both ends: on fire from doubt on the outside, burning with faith on the inside. Perhaps it was inevitable that he should die. Like me he uncovered despair, doubt, disobedience, and ordinariness. I even fell sick during my time in this rural community for nearly two weeks, missing a Sunday due to the worst bout of flu that I have ever had.

My ministry was preaching, teaching Disciple, visiting in the hospitals and the homes. I felt like I was spinning my wheels and not getting anywhere. To top it off, my then fiancée and I broke off our engagement permanently in February. Within a week, every local grandmother, regardless of denominational affiliation, was ready to set me up with their many single, female relations. In a panic, brought on by my isolation and a lack of spiritual discipline, I did the ultimate act of pastoral cowardice: I asked to be moved after one year. I know that I tried the patience of my excellent and long-suffering district superintendent. Many times, to that kind district superintendent our young priest’s words and mine were to same:

“I ought to have said: ‘I am no longer fit to guide a parish. I have neither prudence, nor judgment, nor common sense, nor real humanity. God has punished me. Send me back to my seminary; I am a danger to souls’” (141).

Bishop Fannin appointed me as an associate to Trinity-Huntsville. Before I moved, in the Munford Church, one man came to Christ through our Disciple Bible Study that year. I had the chance to baptize him. A middle-aged couple found renewed passion for their summer missions in Honduras. An entire generation in that area saw a minister who was their age; who laughed, chatted and thought much as they did. He was bumbling when it came to his vocation, but, by God’s grace, they saw that there might be something to this mystery known as faith in Christ. I did not die like our young priest. I just left, but when I did, Munford-Bethlehem had something to think about. For the next few years, several of us would still talk together. Perhaps, for all my failures, selfishness and other short-comings, grace continued to work. Nevertheless, let this brief testimony never be given the attributes of a effectiveness. It embarrasses me to this day. To paraphrase Winston Churchill ("Wars are not won by evacuations"): ministry is not made effective by evacuation.

Nevertheless, this novel confirmed much of my experience. Even a young, bungling minister can be a vessel for some good. Even a defrocked priest may give last rites. It helped me release my need of effectiveness based on myself and not on the spirit of God. It also gave me several ideas for sermons and stimulated my mind with meaningful scenes, illustrations and quotations.

Two Sermon Ideas. The first sermon I might take from this book would be on Mark 14:7, which records Jesus’ comment on the woman who anoints his feet with perfume: “For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me.” (NRSV) The title of the sermon might be “The Hour of Mercy” which is inspired by the following quote from Diary, attributed to Monsieur de Curé de Torcy:

“Have we kept God’s word intact: the poor you will always have you? … All the worse for the rich who pretend to believe it justifies their selfishness. … But Our Father taken our poor world as it is, not like the charlatans who manufacture one on paper and keep on reforming it, still on paper. … It’s so magnificent! God despises nothing. … The poor you will always have with you, answered Our Lord. Which amounts to this: don’t let the hour of mercy strike in vain” (86).

Using the urgency of found in the words of Monsieur de Curé de Torcy, the sermon would urge the congregation to acts of mercy. I would tell the story of the woman at Jesus’ feet, discerning her motivations, her hope for his mercy and then his response. To flesh this out I would draw about the parallel verses in two other gospels (Matthew 26:11, John 12:8) as well as the close fit found in Deuteronomy 15:11 which urges, “There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your brothers and toward the poor and needy in your land.” Using my exegetical work, I might use those other gospels to teach about the subtle differences between them, if the need and opportunity arose.

The second sermon idea is one that I take from the entire sweep of the story. Perhaps it is summed up in the final quote of the book:

“‘Does it matter? Grace is everywhere …’” (298).

The rarely heard stories of this world fascinate me. Though he is a fictional character, I can imagine that many like of our young priest have lived and died under the same Lord. The same can be said for those people who are in scripture that are mentioned only a few times and then fade into tradition and history. I have always longed to preach on the character of Onesimus. I have heard many different ideas about who he was and what he did after Christ changed his life. Could he have been the bishop of Ephesus? Could he have presided over the first collection of New Testament writings in Ephesus? Could he have been Philemon’s half brother? The sermon would be called “Useful” and its main thrust would be, that whoever we are, however far from or close to God, grace is indeed everywhere and we can all be useful in great and small ways; God can, will and does use anyone. Come to him and find purpose!

Three Illustrations. The first is an illustration of sin, how it hides from us, conceals itself, yet is always ready to surge to the surface under the correct conditions. Our young priest is full of insight on this one.

“What do we know of sin? Geologists teach us that the very ground which seems so solid is in reality only a thin film which seems so solid is in reality only a thin film over an ocean of liquid fire, forever trembling like the skin on milk about to boil… How far down would one need to dig to rediscover the blue depths?” (75).

We would dig so very far indeed, into eternity, to rediscover the deep blue depths. For only in the eternity that is bound up in The One who made it can we ever transcend that ocean of fire, and turn the thin film into a firm foundation. I would use this illustration to bring light to sin’s inherent nature as instability and unpredictability. A relationship with God, in an unstable and fallen world, is what will bring stability.

The second illustrates the Kingdom of God, a place where the rich give way, and there are reserved seats up front for the poor. The irony in this passage is that it is a description of the Kingdom of God given by Dr. Maxence Delbende, an atheist. This quote is long, but I just cannot resist it. In keeping with the tension between Matthew 5:3 and Luke 6:20, I would stretch the use of the word ‘poor’ in the quote to include those who are poor in spirit.

“… after twenty centuries of Christianity, to be poor ought not still to be a disgrace. Or else you have gone and betrayed that Christ of yours! There’s no getting away from that, Good God Almighty! You have every means of humbling the rich at your disposal, for setting their pace. The rich man wants to be well thought of, and the richer he is the more he wants it. If you would only have the pluck to make them take the back seats in church round the Holy Water stoup, or even out on the steps – why not? It would have made them think. They’d all have had one eye on the poor men’s seats, I know ‘em! The first everywhere else, but here in the House of God, the last!” (81)

The final illustrates the much needed word for all of the Church of Jesus Christ: go where God’s spirit already is; go where the Spirit is already blessing things; rebuild not the wheel. The quote comes from a relatively uninteresting part of the novel, when the young priest tries to start a boy’s athletic club. The young priest works so diligently to start the club, even announcing it during Sunday services. However, it does not go as he expected:

“I had only four applicants. Not too good. I hadn’t realized there was already a sports club at Héclin, munificently endowed by M. Vergnes, the shoe-manufacturer who keeps seven parishes employed. To be sure Héclin is twelve kilometers away, but the village boys can do that easily on their bicycles” (84).

I resist the idea of being too critical of our young priest. I was and in many ways I still am in his shoes! However, perhaps, after his inclination to form a sports club, he should have prayed it through and asked God to reveal to him any similar ministries that were already abounding. Even if such prayer were not an inclination of our young priest, he might have done some investigating to see what God was blessing in the line of sports clubs, or other fellowship opportunities for young men. Our young priest had an admirable goal, we all do, but perhaps we all could do a little more praying, reflecting and seeking of where God is moving in the world before we commit ourselves to action that may not bear as much fruit as other options.

Four Quotations. One thing that I honor always is a quick wit. Some of the best times of my life have been spent with my father or with friends, trading witty remarks, ideas or stories. However, there are times when, as the proverb says, silence is golden. In the first quotation I would note, our young priest finds this truth in a conversation with Monsieur de Curé de Torcy.

“There are silences which draw you out – fascinate you, till you long to throw in any words, anything to break them …” (89).

It reminds me of my discomfort with silences and how I need to fill them. As the story of Elijah reminds us: “ …and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:12-13) Filling a silence may deny one a blessing. God is often in the silence, particularly in the silence between friends.

Second, the more a quote encounters a person’s experience, the better the quote is. Every one needs to breathe. Every child has tried to hold her or his breath under water. Into this common experience walks the following quote from our priest on prayer:

“At that that moment I needed prayer as much as I needed air to draw my breath or oxygen to fill my blood” (103).

Third, the Enlightenment blessed us in many ways, but in others it is problematic. It dared to separate God from human events. In a peculiar way, this separated human beings from the source of love. Our young priest, in his confrontation with the Comtesse, among other things, works to reveal God’s work in her life, and God’s peculiar mercy and love. This quote sums up his argument:

“As long as we remain in this life we can still deceive ourselves, think that we love by our own will, that we love independently of God. But we’re like madmen stretching our hands to clasp the moon reflected in water” (171).

Fourth, even preachers need a difficult word upon which to masticate (chew). In another conversation with Monsieur de Curé de Torcy, the older priest gives a challenge to all those who have been in a pulpit. At each ellipsis one could divide these quotes. Yet I am compelled to include them all, because they speak to our task of preaching. To say the least, one of my great joys from this assignment was meeting Monsieur de Curé de Torcy.

“The Word of God is a red-hot iron! And you who preach it ‘ud go picking it up with a pair of thongs, for fear of burning yourself, you daren’t get hold of it with both hands … Why the priest who descends from the pulpit of Truth, with a mouth like a hen’s vent, a little hot but pleased with himself, he’s not been preaching: at best he’s been purring like a tabby cat … I simply mean that when the Lord has drawn from me some word for the good of souls, I know, because of the pain of it” (54).

Conclusion. I wonder what seeds this book has sown in the soil of my soul. I imagine years from now great trees or mysterious vines appearing and half-familiar fruit being born. I hope that I might then have the courage to bite into them. Then I will remember this book. Who knows what wisdom it will bear in the future. Until then, such as it is, this paper represents the wisdom that has been born in this reading. May its wisdom increase in all of us. Amen.