Religious Leadership in the Catholic Tradition

Some Thoughts on the Current Debate Regarding Clerical Status and Religious Life

Anthony Mansueto


In the most recent issue of the National Catholic Reporter, Sandra Schneiders, Professor of New Testament Studies at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley and a member of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, attempts a systematic response to the Vatican’s ongoing investigation of women religious¹ in the United States --an investigation which she and others regard, quite rightly, as a thinly veiled attack in the forms of life and ministry which have emerged into the full light of day since the Second Vatican Council. This form of life and ministry she calls ministerial religious life. “The salient features of this life form,“ she argues, “deriving directly from that of the pre-Easter Jesus himself, include a total lifelong consecration to God to the exclusion of any other primary life commitment (perpetual profession); the integration of a contemplative life of personal and shared prayer with a whole-hearted commitment to full time public ministry in service of the reign of God; community lived in mission (rather than in fixed abodes); a form of life that includes renunciation of family and home (consecrated celibacy), total personal economic dispossession and interdependence (evangelical poverty), and ministry on a full time basis (prophetic obedience in ministry).”  Monastic enclosure, a distinctive habit, and the horarium, a regular recitation of the divine office and schedule of common meals and manual labor, on the other hand, are not intrinsic to ministerial religious life.

I say that this form of  life and ministry “emerged into the full light of day” because, as Schneiders points out quite rightly, it  has deep roots in the history of the Church, going back at least to the mendicant movements of the middle ages. The hierarchy has always been fearful of these movements, especially when they were led by women, and has consistently tried to repress them. When it could not stamp them out completely, it imposed monastic norms (enclosure, habit, and horarium), which restricted as much as possible, the capacity of ministerial religious --especially women-- to engage in active ministry and leadership. What the Second Vatican Council did was to grant to ministerial religious life a much higher, though still far from complete, degree of official acceptance. This official recognition in turn allowed communities of women religious to engage in open deliberation regarding their form of life to bring it more nearly into conformity with the needs of their ministries. It is this very partial opening which the current Vatican “investigation” of religious communities of women in the United States is threatening to undo.

Thus far Schneiders’ analysis --and defense of contemporary “ministerial” women religious-- is right on the mark. These are dedicated, often courageous women who have, historically, contributed far more than their share to the life of the church and who have received far too little in the way of either material support or recognition in turn.

Her next step, however, is more problematic. Any form of religious life requires a theological basis, and Schneiders seeks to provide this by arguing that religious life is, fundamentally, an imitation --in fact the closest possible imitation-- of Jesus’ own life of itinerant ministry. She is careful to claim that this does not make ministerial religious life superior to other forms of life --she mentions the life of “householders” and monastics in particular.  But this disclaimer lacks force. In a Christian theological context --and especially in the Christocentric context of postconciliar Catholic theology-- the claim to imitate Jesus is tantamount to a claim of religious authority and religious superiority.

Now a claim to religious authority and religious superiority is not --contemporary democratic sensibilities notwwithstanding-- inherently problematic. Communities need both leadership and  models of excellence to emulate. But Schneiders’ approach has two problems. First, by making consecrated celibacy a constitutive feature of ministerial religious life, she invokes on behalf of women religious the very complex of psychosexual mystifications which forms the basis of male hierarchical authority within the Catholic Church and implicitly devalues and denies the “religious” character of the form of life chosen by many married and sexually active men and women whose lives bear essentially all the other marks of ministerial  life --and which are often characterized by much&  deeper economic insecurity because they lack the support of established religious communities. Second, by so privileging a nonclerical form of life (making it the extension throughout history of Jesus’ own ministry) Schneiders both undercuts the claim of many women and married men to clerical status and obfuscates further the already blurred lines between clerical status and religious life in the Catholic tradition.

Let us look at each of these issues in turn.

Understanding the first problem requires that we recognize that for the dominant factions of the Catholic hierarchy, misogyny is, in fact, constitutive of Catholic identity. This is why issues relating to women and sexuality --abortion, birth control, and women’s ordination-- are, in practice, treated as more fundamental than foundational dogmas such as the Trinity  or the Incarnation, and why principled violations of ecclesiastical norms on these questions draw the penalty of excommunication while child molesting and most other forms of male sexual misconduct do not.²  Indeed, the constitutive nature of this misogyny has been made quite explicit in the most recent teachings on ordination. Women cannot be ordained to the priesthood because, since Jesus was male, they cannot make him present to the people.

This is the mystification promoted by the hierarchy. It has a correlate among the people, which governs the way religious authority actually operates in Catholic communities. Priests, because of the requirement of celibacy, sacrifice their sexuality for God and thus earn deference from the communities they lead. Women religious make a similar sacrifice but since women are supposed to be less sexual to begin with, they make a smaller sacrifice and thus earn less deference.

Marriage, to be sure, has its own patriarchal legacy. So it is not only understandable, but fully legitimate, that some (even many) women would conclude that both their effectiveness as religious leaders and their own spiritual development are best served by remaining outside of marriage and looking for their primary source of support from other women. But this does not require that we sanctify celibacy or deny the fully religious character of the life forms and life commitments of those who choose to struggle to liberate marriage and family life, among other institutions. Doing so, in fact, invokes the very psychosexual mystification on which the dominant faction of the hierarchy depends for its very existence.

Schneiders’ first error leads to her second. It is quite understandable, given what we have just said, and especially in the light of the authoritarian and rightist turn by the Catholic hierarchy in the past 30 years  that the idea of clerical status itself should have come into disfavor, especially among those who have been denied access to it. But communities do in fact require leadership. And the clergy, both sociologically and theologically, is simply that group which, because of its special training and expertise, has been set aside to exercise such leadership. By so privileging ministerial religious life (treating it as the extension of Jesus own life and ministry throughout history), Schneiders undercuts efforts to address the crisis of religious leadership in the Catholic Church and in the world generally in the present period. More specifically, she undercuts the demand of women and married men for ordination, making it seem unimportant, unnecessary, or even perverse. If ministerial religious life is the real extension of Jesus life and ministry, why bother with a clergy? It also undercuts the struggle, which extends well beyond the Catholic Church, to develop forms of religious leadership which are adequate to the emerging sapientially literate laos: a laos capable of making its own rationally autonomous decisions regarding fundamental questions of meaning and value, and which therefore requires a different kind of leadership than, say, a preliterate peasantry or an early literate urban working class.   

Cleary we need to rethink the whole problem of clerical status and religious life thoroughly and systematically. This is an enormous task, and what follows are just some preliminary directions, intended to catalyze discussion, deliberation, and debate.

Clerics are, fundamentally, those who lead³ the communities they serve in deliberation regarding fundamental questions of meaning and value and in acting on the conclusions --personal and communal-- which flow from those deliberations, or who perform functions which are clearly auxiliary to such deliberation and action. Different religious traditions require different kinds of leadership and thus require clergies with different skills. But broadly speaking, any one who has received formal training in what were historically called the sacred sciences, and what I have called the sapiential disciplines --those which engage fundamental questions of meaning and value (philosophy, theology, and religious law)-- is a cleric. Because all disciplines in the middle ages, including the liberal arts and sciences-- served philosophy and theology, everyone who entered a university (including women) was regarded as a cleric. Today the term would more properly be restricted to those who have undertaken an authentic liberal arts education --one which has, as its main purpose, cultivating the capacity to make and evaluate arguments regarding fundamental questions of meaning and value. But its application would still be quite wide and would certainly extend beyond those for whom the leadership of local congregations constitutes their main occupation or even those whose formal study and professional activity focuses on religious matters narrowly understood.

Ordination, properly understood, does not confer, but rather recognizes, clerical status. Communities certainly have a right to decide for themselves what kinds of leaders they require and how they will determine who is qualified to exercise such leadership. But one becomes a cleric through study and practice, not through ordination.

This approach is also coherent with the distinction which was historically made in the Catholic tradition between the minor and the major orders. Those whose study has prepared them to make and evaluate arguments regarding fundamental questions of meaning and value and to perform functions in the community which are auxiliary to religious leadership are minor clerics. Those whose study has prepared them to teach, exercise pastoral leadership, engage in original religious scholarship, or carry out specialized ministries requiring extensive theological training are major clerics.⁴

It should be noted, finally, that with increased access to university level studies (and in spite of the crisis of the liberal arts), the boundaries of clerical status have become rather blurred. There are many people who have some but not all of what is required to exercise leadership. And many acquire these capacities later in life through experience and informal study. This is a good thing and should be encouraged. It also means that the effective exercise of religious leadership requires a higher order preparation than it did in preliterate societies. Most religious communities today are demanding leaders who can cultivate in their members capacities which would have clearly been regarded as clerical in previous eras. Part of the rage which feeds anticlericalism comes from the fact that the hierarchy continues to claim special privileges, many of which are not necessary for the effective exercise of leadership, while lacking either the capacity or will to actually cultivate the capacities of their communities.

The category of religious life is quite distinct from that of clerical status. It has historically been associated with a life commitment to seek spiritual excellence or even perfection. Because of the historic association of this life commitment with monasticism the Catholic Church has been slow to recognize as religious forms of life which seek perfection outside of a monastic context --an impulse which has been strengthened by the imperative, which Schneiders quite correctly criticizes to control women (though dissident communities of men have also met with repression and/or monastic co-optation). Schneiders is quite correct in pointing out that active ministry can be a means to seeking perfection. This point is in fact well established in Catholic theology. It is important, however, to understand that the commitment to seek perfection, whether through monastic life or through some other dedicated form of life, celibate or not, does not confer religious authority. This is because the disciplines required for seeking individual religious perfection and those required for religious leadership, while certainly mutually supportive, are quite distinct.⁵

None of this should be seen as taking away from the defense of women religious in their resistance to Vatican attempts to suppress creative and progressive forms of religious life --or for that matter of their right to develop forms of religious life which might ultimately turn out not to be so creative or progressive as they search out their own distinctive ways of wisdom.  Women religious have a right to decide for themselves how they will live and how they will serve. I would only ask that in the process of defending this right they not advance claims which denigrate the religious commitments of others or which obscure the distinction between the requirements of religious leadership and of the struggle for spiritual excellence, either historically or in the present period.


1. Non-Catholic readers may need some clarification of the way the term “religious” is used in this context.  In Catholic theology and canon law “religious” are those men and women who dedicate themselves to the pursuit of spiritual perfection by following the evangelical counsels --poverty, chastity, and obedience-- in the context of a community life characterized by solemn, public, perpetual vows. The term is often used more broadly to include those who follow a similar way of life but without solemn, public, perpetual vows, though technically most such communities are not recognized as religious under canon law, but rather as “secular institutes of perfection” or informal apostolic communities. Religious life in this sense is distinct from the clerical state, which pertains to those ordained to lead or serve the church. Clerical status is currently limited to men and the two highest orders , those associated with leadership --the presbyterate and the episcopacy-- to men who have made a promise (though not necessarily a solemn, public, perpetual vow) of celibacy. Married men may be ordained as deacons, i.e.  for service, but not for leadership. Clerics may be religious, but not all religious (and no women religious) are recognized by the Church as clerics.


2.  Explicit claims for the legitimacy of homosexuality is also tabooed, but this is largely a cover for the fact that the hierarchy is itself a largely homosexual institution. And individual homosexual conduct, while formally condemned, does not draw serious penalties. It is only claims for legitimacy, which would threaten to reveal the psychosexual secrets of the hierarchy, which draw anything like the penalties associated with female sexual expression.

3. Leading need not imply or include the authority to  make decisions. The model of religious leadership encouraged by Seeking Wisdom understands religious leadership as first and foremost a teaching function. Scholars issue opinions on religious questions. Individuals and communities decide which scholars to follow and which particular opinions to accept. Communities may decide to delegate part of their decision making authority to such scholars, but this is, fundamentally a delegation. Individuals and communities have an obligation to act on the basis of their conviction, not on the basis of deference to leaders who have failed to convince them.

4. Just where the priesthood falls within this spectrum is a complex problem. The presbyterate --historically associated with the leadership of local congregations-- is clearly a major order. But a  priest, sociologically at least, is anyone who makes God present to the people. This has historically most often involved presiding at sacrifices, but this is not the only way to make God present. Among most Indo-European peoples, anyone could preside at a sacrifice for a community which they led. In Judaism and Islam (and in a very different way in Buddhism) teaching and community leadership has become entirely separate from priestly activity. And in Hinduism, which has a priestly caste, performing rituals is regarded as a function for subaltern Brahmins. Higher status Brahmins serve as scholars and teachers. Clearly this question will require further analysis.

5.  My own argument in Spirituality and Dialectics and other contexts that the mastery of the liberal arts is itself a spiritual discipline does not imply that authentic spiritual progress is impossible apart from a liberal education, though it is, I would argue, more difficult in a modern, religiously pluralistic society and may be limited in certain ways. This  is, however, a topic for another essay.