1. Introduction
A former Spanish colony, the Philippines is a predominantly Catholic society with 80% of the population professing the religion [
1]. Relative to other societies, religiosity in the Philippines is high. In terms of attendance at religious services, 52.4% of Filipinos attend at least once a week. The figure is 29.4% in the US and 7% in Germany [
2]. Such religiosity keeps the Catholic clergy very busy. The archipelago is divided into several apostolic vicariates and at least sixteen archdioceses that oversee seventy-two dioceses. According to official statistics from the Vatican, the Philippines has 135 bishops, 5,993 diocesan priests, and 2,973 priests affiliated to a religious order [
3].
In recent years, the leadership of the Catholic Church has been met with a series of controversies that remain fresh in the memory of the public. The Philippine Church, for example, was not spared from the sex scandals that scarred the image of Catholicism in the West. Allegations of rape and other forms of sexual abuse have been hurled at several parish priests, and cases have yet to be resolved to this day. It appears then that the public apology delivered in 2002 by the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines did not deter future offenders in the Church [
4]. Recently, too, exposés came out in the media about certain church leaders who received expensive vehicles under the administration of the former Philippine president. While they could have been received for the purposes of enhancing church operations, they could have also been politically motivated to “buy their silence” in order to pacify political unrest especially in the countryside [
5]. Further affecting the public credibility of the Catholic Church as an institution is its involvement in politics. A long-fought battle has been over the Reproductive Health Bill, which universalizes access to artificial contraceptives and sexuality education. The Church has strongly opposed it and has alienated significant segments of the population because of the rhetoric employed by some of its leaders [
6,
7]. Interestingly, despite these controversies, a survey shows that 75.4% of Filipinos (as opposed to 25% in Germany and 28.5% in the US) still place “a great deal or complete confidence in churches and religious organizations” [
2].
Some of these controversies, while national in scope, first emerged as local matters in many dioceses across the country. Outside such big cities as Manila, Cebu, and Davao, dioceses and vicariates have their own respective administrative structures. Moreover, their geographies keep their issues isolated from mainstream media until they reach scandalous proportions. The parishes of many of these rural dioceses can be very far from their own regional centers and such distances speak of their levels of economic development as well. Indeed, many of these parishes are in the midst of rural poverty.
This article draws from a study conducted in 2011 and 2012 on the challenges priests face in a rural diocese in the Philippines. Their struggles, as their narratives reveal, revolve around issues that are economic, leadership-related, and relational. But in spite of all these diocesan struggles, my informants have asserted that they are still satisfied, a condition which needs to be enacted in a relational and ongoing manner.
Taking my cue from the sociology of religious emotion, I will show that the satisfaction of my informants can be understood as a religious emotion in spite of the challenges they face in the diocese. Their satisfaction lies in being able to commit their time and resources to their communities. In this sense, priesthood satisfaction is not just a passive state that is a result of environmental conditions. This proposition rectifies the assumption in the literature that priests largely view relationships as a source of satisfaction [
8]. That priests have an opportunity to give is in itself also a very important source of satisfaction. This then informs why they feel frustrated with the many limitations imposed on them by the economic condition of their parishes and the lack of support they receive from their diocesan leaders.
4. Findings: Challenges in the Diocese
The issues gleaned from the interviews broadly touch on economic, leadership-related, and relational concerns. In what follows, specific illustrations are offered, which have been gathered and triangulated via different informants. Although triangulation raises the study’s validity [
19], not all of the diocese’s priests have been interviewed. This means that there are angles that may have been missed which could, in the end, shed better light on the cases at hand. Nevertheless, the accounts below generally illustrate the salient issues or struggles priest-respondents are faced with and they are helpful in contextualizing how they can still consider themselves satisfied. This is a point dealt with in the next section. Exercising reflexivity here, I wish to point out, too, that the following accounts are not meant to antagonize anyone in the Catholic Church. If at all, they can offer nuances for a more grounded institutional response, as has been the case in other studies [
20].
As priests assigned to a rural diocese, my informants could understandably be expected to encounter tremendous economic difficulties. In fact, to identify these economic issues and to what extent they were affecting their ministry were some of the motivations for conducting this research. After all, the priests are receiving on a monthly basis less than USD 100.00, half of the prescribed minimum wage in the region. This stipend is lower than what it used to be since the diocese has been receiving lower contributions in recent years. Parishioners in the predominantly agricultural area cannot be expected to significantly contribute any additional income either.
For the priests, their financial limitation is an important consideration not simply because they have their own wants or needs. To be sure, the diocese shoulders their shelter, food, and basic transportation costs. But some of them have expressed desire to be able to support the needs of their parents and siblings or purchase items for themselves. Also, rising health expenditures are becoming tough for some of the priests especially the older ones with chronic illness. One informant, for example, needs to undergo a heart surgery but his current insurance scheme cannot afford it. Nevertheless, the vicariate supports his ongoing medication.
But when pressed to explain why the subsidy is not enough, several informants have explained that they wish they could have more resources to finance the needs of their own parishes. Fr. Anthony, 39, explains that “our stipend covers everything already—pastoral needs and our own as well. But it’s sad when I cannot push through with my programs just because there’s nothing to shell out.” From his own experience, Fr. Robert, 35, points out that transportation costs are most significant for him. To visit his far-flung parishes he must traverse rough roads and mountains. “Especially during my first six months here,” he explains, “it became clear that my expenditures were greater than my income. Much as I want to speak with my parishioners about this problem, there’s really nothing much that can be done. Their economic situation is all too obvious to not see.”
Many of the other priests, however, were not fully affected by their financial inadequacy. In fact, to them, that this resonates with simplicity could even be a source of spiritual depth. In asserting this point, Fr. Martin, 53, contrasts his condition to what he observes among some of his clergy peers in other areas: “We just do with what we have…Today, we see especially in the main cities some people showing off their cars and bragging about their allowances. Hopefully we would not become like them. In our diocese, we still live by our tradition, especially of poverty.”
As other priests were interviewed, it became clear though that the issue of inadequacy did not square well with some of their other observations. One narrative that has recurred in several interviews is about a priest’s plan to sell the community’s old vehicle and ask for additional funding from the treasury in order to purchase a new one. According to this story, the bishop has discouraged the plan on the grounds that the diocese did not have sufficient funds. Barely a week later, however, the diocesan authorities have bought a new car that would have required at least USD 13,000.00 from the treasury. One could easily sense the indignation among the priests who shared this highly controversial story. An experienced priest, who is now a school rector, expresses his disappointment that “I would visit schools regularly if I had a vehicle…and I would want to be able to visit and bring around our principals.”
Here one sees that the issue at stake is no longer an economic matter. The disappointment emanates neither from the fact that the request was not granted nor from the idea that the diocesan leaders were not forthright about their decision to reject the grant. As articulated by the respondents, the frustration lies in the consequence of the decision that could have been avoided— the seeming neglect of the hardships priests are faced with in carrying out their roles. Indeed, some priests have reasoned out that the bishop, who is new, is not from within their ranks or even the province itself.
But perhaps an understandably more difficult realization for the priests is that the turn of events was a bitter reminder of a national controversy that has greatly affected their confidence in the diocese. A year or so ago, several bishops were accused of receiving expensive vehicles and other special gifts from the previous Philippine president. The controversy is multi-layered [
21]. At one level, it posed a moral dilemma for the Church since the gifts were apparently derived from the national lottery system. But at another, the gifts were perceived to buy their silence as the president then was embroiled in several controversies including allegations of cheating in the elections. Finally, the use of government funds to make these so-called donations could have been in itself a case of corruption. Sensing these issues coming to fore once again, Fr. Robert, a parish priest, exclaims that this vehicle incident “ignites our sense of justice”.
The idea of being neglected by the diocesan leaders, the bishop included, has cropped up time and again in the interviews. To be sure, not everybody has problems with the leadership. But in other cases, diocesan authorities have been described as “hierarchical” or even “difficult”. Throughout the interviews, concerns have been raised, for example, about how their other requests for administrative changes, sabbatical leave, or advanced education were declined. One priest, who is in charge of several schools in the diocese, has found himself in a situation that continues to frustrate him. Fr. Fortunato, 47, wishes to train new school directors and principals from the current roster of priests in the diocese. This, after all, is his mandate as coordinator of Catholic schools in the diocese. When he requested the bishop to “please not assign priests to mission stations where there are schools but are not interested in running them,” the bishop had to decline. To be fair, Fr. Fortunato acknowledges that the main reason may be because of the limited number of priests in the diocese. But he still feels he was not heeded at all as he was instead recommending somebody else. He then speculates, with discernible resentment in his tone, that “in their wise evaluation of things, this priest is probably not good.” This has led him to compare the present bishop to the previous who, for him, listened closely to the needs of priests, even “asking some of them to go abroad” if need be for training. Unfortunately, Fr. Fortunato is not alone in feeling distant from the diocesan leaders. In an interview with Fr. Robert, a young parish priest, he admits feeling that his issues are ignored by the proper officials. And even if they notice, his requests, he feels, are met with resistance: “Sometimes I have concerns, but even if they are small, they immediately become angry…And when we express some of our needs, things are still being decided upon without our knowledge.”
The issues priest-respondents have expressed about their leaders are compelling and they certainly deserve some attention especially within the institution. The pattern that emerges here is that when priests do not feel being listened to by the institutional leaders, they tend to distance themselves and eventually be distrusting of them. Interestingly, this pattern has been observed too among some priests in the US who felt that church leaders were more interested in protecting the reputation of the institution in the wake of abuse scandals [
9]. And the potential consequences may be serious. It is quite telling that in Hoge’s survey among resigned priests, only 22% felt very satisfied with their relationship with their bishop [
11].
The final important source of struggle for the diocesan priests can be considered relational. Surfaced here are issues of loneliness, which are symptomatic of the isolating conditions of their diocese. During the fieldwork, priests were noticeably comfortable with each other, even throwing banters intermittently. Opportunities for interaction are also available. Every Monday, for example, some priests come for an informal gathering at the diocesan house located in the region’s capital. It is the only opportunity for the many others assigned to far areas to interact with fellow priests.
But not everyone could be there regularly. And the rest of the time the conditions in which they are embedded can be very tough. This became clear during an interview with a parish priest who was ordained in 2011. Fr. Robert explains that his feelings of loneliness can be due to the “separation from my previous life in the seminary where I was in the company of other seminarians. Suddenly I am now alone in the parish. Sometimes I look for people I can talk to but I only have two neighbors in the parish.” So why does he not talk to them? “Of course I talk to them but I have other daily duties in the parish. So most of the time I only see my secretary. So I don’t have any variation in my life in the parish.”
But even if there may be regular interactions among the priests, this does not mean that they can be open to each other. A case in point is Fr. Sef, 40, who has been a parish priest for at least five years now. He interestingly opened up about his medical depression, which, according to him, is due to two factors. There are times, for example, when he compares himself to the previous priest, who, he says, was very effective in organizing the parish. He, on the other hand, does not even feel effective in delivering homily. Also, he admits to having been “sexually attracted” to a parishioner younger than he. Fr. Sef has not acted on this attraction though. When asked if he has shared his predicaments with anyone, he explains: “There’s the Monday gathering but priests are typically there to chat over beer. Sometimes, I think to myself that I’m willing to share my condition, but no one asks anyway.”
2Other priests interviewed have also offered stories about their personal crises surrounding sexual propriety. When asked about whether they had anyone with whom they could share these matters, they would mention a name or two from among their peers but explain further that they do not necessarily see each other often. Here the struggle becomes evident. While priests in this diocese may have interactions with each other at the diocesan house, for example, they are limited by their geographies and levels of openness.
Feelings of isolation are therefore reinforced with potentially long-term consequences. While celibacy has never been raised as an issue in my interviews, struggles over sexual chastity have. Once again, these issues have been kept private by my respondents. When a priest was asked how he addresses this, he immediately quips, “I just accept it as a personal problem.” In Hoge’s research, he found out that pursuing “intimate relationship with a woman” was the main motivation for 42% of his informants who resigned from the priesthood ([
11], p. 32). Resignation, as LeNoir’s study shows, could be a positive way to deal with the dissonance [
18].
But what if the person is unable to handle the matter properly because there is no one to talk to? Here Rossetti’s landmark study is helpful. Even though the vast majority of priests in the US have a high regard for celibacy, Rossetti admits that there are those for whom “the commitment to celibate living can be a particular challenge or even burden to some” ([
14], p. 107). Here it is noteworthy that the diocese had to confront its own cases of sex scandals recently.
3It is highly possible that feelings of relational loneliness are more acute among those fresh from the seminary. As Clancy rightly suggests in his work on seminary formation, it is “difficult while living in a community atmosphere to simulate the actual experience of loneliness” ([
23], p. 127). And among newly ordained priests, Ermis has discovered that many have encountered “serious personal crisis” involving feelings of isolation ([
10], p. 84).
Certainly reinforcing such feelings is what appears to be a typical self-perception that they have not been prepared well for the needs of their rural parishes. During the interviews, informants have repeatedly suggested, for example, the need for training in counseling, spiritual formation, and community organizing to benefit their parishes. Gleaning from his study on the seminary formation of priests, Clancy draws attention to the necessity of continuing pastoral formation, which he argues is “a concern for more than intellectual formation” ([
23], p. 152).
Also, they have emphasized the need for their personal rest but have, on many occasions, been discouraged by the leadership for reasons of manpower limitation. It must be noted, too, that these feelings of isolation among younger clergy may be unintentionally overlooked because of divergent expectations by the senior ones, who think that the former are not “doing as much as we did”, as one informant puts it. Rossetti observes a similar pattern among priests in the US, with the younger ones more predisposed to depression and burnout [
14]. As the Catholic clergy trains its new recruits, an awareness of generational changes in Philippine society is now more pertinent, a point Cornelio has raised in his recent work on the sociology of education [
24].
6. Conclusions
This article has been concerned with priesthood satisfaction and the challenges priests face in the diocese. The nuances here are derived from the experience of diocesan priests whose parishes are in a rural area in the Philippines. Three emergent themes constitute their struggles in the diocese. On a daily basis, they encounter economic limitations, problems with their bishops and leaders, and the imminence of isolation brought about by physical and social distance. In the latter half, I have shown that my informants can maintain their satisfaction as priests not because of their environmental conditions. They are faced with struggles on a daily basis and they are certainly affected by them. However, they have asserted their satisfaction insofar as their calling is concerned. So although they receive social support from their communities, the most important consideration is that they are able to give their time and resources to their parishioners. This is why they find satisfaction in administering the sacraments and equipping their communities—and they wish to do more. Some of them, indeed, have expressed desire to be trained in additional skills such as counseling and organizing. Priesthood satisfaction, in this sense, is a religious emotion enacted in a relational and ongoing manner.
Drawn from qualitative interviews, these are findings that complement the existing literature on priesthood satisfaction. If a survey method were employed, for example, the study would have failed to grasp the depth of priesthood satisfaction for my informants. This limitation is what Rossetti has understandably stumbled upon in trying to explain the high priestly morale his survey reveals. He then draws instead from his personal experience as priest: “But when you ask a priest about his own morale and happiness as a priest, I believe that he digs down deeper. While being very conscious of the current difficulties and pains, a priest thinks about deeper things when he assesses his own morale” ([
14], p. 91). While I do not deny the credibility of such a statement, its claim would have garnered better support through narratives from the ground. Exactly what, for example, constitutes “deeper things”? In a way, this article can be seen as an attempt to address this question in the context of diocesan priests.
I end this article by reflecting on the wider implications of its findings. On one hand, the narratives show that problems of national scale that hound the Catholic Church in the Philippines and arguably elsewhere start small. In other words, they all begin to take shape at the level of local dioceses far from the prying eyes of the media and also the central control of archdioceses. Such distance makes it possible for these issues to carry on until they become highly uncontainable. In a way, therefore, the stories recounted above, while laying the basis for my argument concerning satisfaction as religious emotion, can also serve to inform how they ought to be addressed. Indeed, Kane has shown that an approach to resolve crisis within the Church without regard for the thoughts and sentiments of local priests can alienate them in the end [
9]. The narratives they have offered above articulate some of their aspirations for continuous training, opportunities for interacting with each other, and a more open line of communication with the leadership.
On the other hand, the research also raises an important question concerning the sustainability of priesthood satisfaction as religious emotion. For the time being, my informants have expressed their commitment to their calling precisely because they are satisfied with their very priesthood. This allows them to transcend their everyday struggles. But how far can this go? Certainly, crisis concerning sexual abuse and tensions with the leadership are most of the time ruptures. As Hoge, Rossetti, and Greeley have rightly argued in different occasions, these problems must not be interpreted as defining the entire Catholic Church [
11,
14,
15]. Nevertheless, questions concerning generational change with implications on the sustainability of the clergy in the Philippines (and elsewhere) must now be entertained, especially that younger priests are receiving their ordination. This has been the project of Hoge, for example, who shows how changes concerning understanding of church structure and governance is changing across generations [
13]. A project of this kind has not been done in the Philippines. But as suggested above, there can be generational differences in terms of pastoral formation and their personal expectations of themselves, their peers, parish, and the institution they serve.