Fr. Roger J. Landry
The Anchor
Putting Into the Deep
January 22, 2010
In the past two weeks, we’ve focused on two of the great challenges St. John Vianney faced in his priestly life. The first came from various lay people in Ars who disparaged, harassed, slandered, and physically attacked him, seeking to drive him out of town; they rejected his message of conversion and holiness and took out their opposition on the messenger. The second trial came from some of his priestly peers who treated him as if he were a disgrace to the priesthood, mocked him, insulted him, preached against him, forbade their people to go to him, and sought to have the bishop remove him.
As excruciating as these antagonisms were, they both provided the crucible not only for the Curé of Ars to grow in Christian virtue but to put that heroic virtue on display. Many of his detractors in both camps, witnessing how he sought to overcome their evil with good, ended up not only repenting of their deeds but becoming among his most staunch supporters.
An even more difficult test than these, however, occurred much closer to home. It occurred, in fact, in the rectory, at the hands of a priest assistant, Fr. Antoine Raymond.
One of the most seldom discussed challenges of priestly life is what modern Church sociologists called “rectory living.” The very fact that a bishop assigns two or more men to live and work together does not mean that they will cohabitate and collaborate easily. There are, of course, rectory situations — like St. John Vianney experienced with his first pastor and mentor, Fr. Charles Balley — in which pastor and curate become true friends who inspire each other to become better priests. There are many more in which the priests get along just fine and treat each other with professional respect and genuine fraternity.
There are occasions, however, in which living and working together can become a crucifixion for one or both. A recent in-depth study examining why some young priests abandon the priesthood showed that one of the chief reasons was because they couldn’t get along with their pastor. It’s hard enough to work for a boss with whom one does not see eye-to-eye; it’s doubly difficult to live with him. Rectory tensions often lead young priests to seek outlets and some of these outlets are not conducive to priestly perseverance. On the flip side, there are many pastors who admit that, as exhausting as it is to be the only priest in a parish, they prefer to live and work alone, rather than have a curate assigned to them who might be a pastoral and personal cross. Some priests provide more harm than help. That’s what happened for Fr. Vianney when his first assistant arrived.
For his first 27 years in Ars, Fr. Vianney was the only priest. After recovering from a serious illness, he asked the bishop for two weeks off to travel to his native Dardilly to rest with his brother and his family. The bishop granted his permission provided that he was able to find coverage. That task proved much easier than anticipated, because Fr. Antoine Raymond, a young pastor of Savigneux, volunteered.
Fr. Vianney had known Antoine Raymond from the time he was in high school seminary in Meximieux and generously volunteered to pay the latter’s college and major seminary costs. Visiting Ars and seeing the throngs of pilgrims coming to confession, the future Fr. Raymond began to dream of becoming Curé of Ars one day himself. He must have believed that people were coming for some other reason than Fr. Vianney.
When Fr. Vianney was planning to make his home visit, Fr. Raymond jumped at the chance to offer himself to the bishop as his successor. The bishop declined, but accepted the young priest’s offer to cover for Fr. Vianney while he was away. When the holy Curé returned, he discovered that Fr. Raymond had already taken up a quasi-permanent residence in Ars, despite remaining being pastor in Savigneux.
Fr. Vianney soon recognized the obvious, that the young priest longed to remain in Ars. Since he had paid for his seminary education and therefore felt a responsibility for him, and since it was obvious that he could benefit from having another priest in Ars to help out with the daily pilgrimages, he wrote the bishop asking that Fr. Raymond be assigned with him. At the diocesan headquarters, this request was well-received. The bishop and his chief collaborators knew that Fr. Vianney didn’t have the time or skill set to give adequate attention to administration. He also had developed a reputation of giving alms not only to those truly in need but to those who were routinely taking advantage of his goodness. They figured Fr. Raymond, who was a capable organizer and a zealous teacher, would be able to bring some order.
The bishop assigned him as curate but gave him some authority to look after the administrative affairs. He took that inch and tried to stretch it to a marathon. As soon as Fr. Raymond received his letters, he went to the rectory and said that he wished to take the room where the Curé had slept for the previous nearly three decades. The Curé was diligently moving his few things down to a damp room on the first floor before the parishioners got wind of it and came to stop it. Fr. Raymond began to identify himself as the pastor or “curé” to parishioners and in the Church registers. He started almost immediately changing parish customs that had been long established. He was brazen, preemptory, arrogant, and some parishioners said even a little tyrannical. What bothered the people of Ars the most was how disrespectful he was to their pastor. Within a few weeks, the leading parishioners couldn’t take it anymore and went to see the bishop. His administrative duties were removed.
For the next eight years as Fr. Vianney’s assistant, Fr. Raymond routinely berated the great confessor in private and in public, badmouthed him to parishioners and pilgrims, occasionally contradicted him from the pulpit and declared everywhere that Fr. Vianney was “entering his second childhood.” He even tried to take credit for all the good that was happening in Ars.
Fr. Vianney tolerated it all with great patience. At first he tried to assert himself, but learned that that only made Fr. Raymond more belligerent. From that point forward, he resolved to keep him informed, to consult him, and to give in to him as much as possible.
He saw Fr. Raymond as the antidote to all the praise he got from the crowds. “While there is some incensing, there are also quite a few kicks,” he confided to a friend. “He’s not afraid to tell me the truth about myself,” he said, gratefully, to the bishop. “Without him it would have been difficult for me to know that I loved the good God a little.” He judged his love for God on how much he was able to love Fr. Raymond. He routinely defended him when others were justly criticizing the curate’s behavior.
One Holy Week, when Fr. Raymond’s behavior was particularly obnoxious, the saint was persuaded to dictate a letter to the bishop asking for him to be transferred. After reviewing the letter, however, Fr. Vianney decided to tear it up, saying, “The good God carried his Cross this week. I can certainly carry my own.”
It was Fr. Raymond who, anticipating that he would likely never succeed the Curé of Ars, finally asked for a transfer. The bishop appointed him pastor of Polliat. A missionary priest, Fr. Toccanier, took his place. It was, in a sense, an earthly recompense for the Curé of Ars. Fr. Toccanier loved and revered him, took care of him, and inspired him to continue giving heroically until the finish line of his life.
God always brings good out of evil. He used Fr. Raymond’s vices to help sculpt Fr. Vianney into an even greater saint.