Wanted: Young Bishops

In our icons and stained glass windows and statues and portraits, Paul is always portrayed as an old man, with that famous bald plate and long beard. But when Paul was called on the road to Damascus, he was in his mid-twenties. We have almost no iconography of young Paul.

I don’t think it’s unfair to say, speaking neutrally, that the Church hierarchy at present is a gerontocracy. Pope Francis is 77. Cardinal Maradiaga, head of the Pope’s “G8” council of cardinals, is 72. Cardinal O’Malley is 70. Blase Cupich, the new archbishop of Chicago, is a spry youngster at 65.

Before +Cupich was appointed, there was a rumor that Fr Robert Barron might be appointed to the see of Chicago. Of course, that was always crazy: Barron isn’t old and isn’t already a bishop. You know, like Peter and Paul. (This post isn’t about Fr Barron or +Cupich or Chicago.)

Readers of my religious work will know that I often like to compare the Church to an army. And readers of my non-religious work will know that one of my frequent (sincerely-held) provocations is the proposal that the military should set a firm retirement age of 50. Militaries that lose have old generals; militaries that win have young generals. Napoleon had field marshals in their late twenties.

When people pay attention to Silicon Valley, there is constant astonishment at the fact that so many people in their twenties can build large businesses and do great things. I think the greater astonishment should be the following: how many more twenty-somethings are toiling away at cubicle jobs and would do great things if given a chance?

It should go without saying that careerism is a species of clericalism. Spend X years in parish work, spend Y years in some central office, be appointed bishop of a small diocese, then maybe a stint in the Curia, or as auxiliary in a major see, or whatever, then be appointed to a larger archdiocese, and then a major metropolitan see and somebody wake me up, I’ve fallen asleep.

It should also go without saying that appointing young, unproven priests to major episcopal posts would represent significant risk-taking–a significant reliance on the Holy Spirit. It should also go without saying that life in Christ always necessitates risk-taking. It should also go without saying that the past couple decades of episcopal history in many countries have not proven that our current way of appointing bishops is self-evidently immaculate.

One more point: a careerism with young bishops would still be a careerism. Part of the problem is precisely this “track.” An archbishop is not a “better” Christian than a priest is not a better Christian than a layperson. Barring major illness, it would be considered very strange for someone to step down from a major metropolitan see to, say, become a confessor at a hospital. I view that as a sign that something is majorly off. Yes, some people are called to some things and are given some special charisms–administration and so on–that mean their vocation is episcopal (and this is why we should appoint those people to jobs of responsibility sooner!), but the Holy Spirit blows where it wills. I am not saying we should totally get rid of the “career path” for bishops–I believe too much in Chesterton’s Fence for that. But I don’t think it should be the only thing.

I should also say that I am an unapologetic Ultramontane. What if you appoint a too-green priest to be a bishop and he makes a mess of things? (As old bishops never do, of course.) Replace him! My Orthodox friends sometimes complain that in the Catholic Church bishops appear to be too much as middle managers in some giant corporation rather than successors of the apostles and heads of local churches; sometimes I wish my Orthodox friends were right; sometimes I wish errant (and downright evil) bishops were dismissed with the same brusqueness as an underperforming branch manager.

Remember the old joke of the Anglican bishop who says, whenever Paul went anywhere, there was a riot; whenever I go somewhere, they serve tea. The bureaucratic career path teaches very well to cover your bases and not make waves. By his own admission, Jorge Mario Bergoglio was a quite lukewarm archbishop of Buenos Aires until he was changed by the Spirit somewhere between the Sistine Chapel and the balcony of St Peter’s.

Armies have two ways of existing: as bureaucracies, or as, so to speak, sports teams. Which one have we chosen? Which one should we choose?