What we think is the right road In recent decades, we have made great progress in no longer being stuffy and pompous.
We have finally scrapped many of those old-fashioned titles. A cardinal may still be addressed as “Your Eminence,” but many clergy now use first names, with optional titles, as in the case of “Father Bob.” Many high school teachers and college professors have caught the spirit, too, using only their first names.
But it’s the wrong road
Except for more “exalted” positions (such as cardinal, president or colonel), we have largely lost a certain “social distance” which used to mark positions of authority. We celebrate this – mistakenly, in my judgment – by assuming that informality is a great good. Even parents are sometimes referred to by their first names instead of as “Mom” and “Dad.” And the priest who prefers “Father Smith” to “Father Bob” – or even just “Bob” – runs the risk of appearing unapproachable or anti-social.
In fact, this “name game” is a minor social revolution. When I was in high school about 90 years ago (that’s hyperbole, by the way), my Latin teacher was “Mr. Harrington,” not “Tom”; my pastor was Father Hoey, not “Father Richard”; and my basketball coach was “Mr. Costa,” not “Tony.” Had I ever called my Army drill sergeant by his first name, I would have done 500 push-ups (well, at least I would have been told to do that many).
Teacher, priest, coach, Army sergeant – they all had an office. They all had the responsibilities of that office. The manner in which I addressed them continually reminded me – and them – of their particular duties. They were not my friends. They had legitimate authority over me; they were, in one way or another, in charge of me. My calling them “Mr.” (or “Professor”), “Father,” “Coach,” and “Drill Sergeant” was not an amusement but verbal recognition that their authority was grounded in their obligation to teach, shepherd, coach and train me according to the office they held.
Teachers and coaches normally do not have 24-hour duties toward their students or athletes. Priests and military officers, by contrast, normally do have that duty. Good priests and good military officers are never off duty.
We recognize that duty by referring to the priest, not as “Bob,” but as “Father Smith,” for he is a priest forever. Soldiers recognize their officers’ rank and responsibility by referring to them as, say, “Colonel” or “Sir” or “Ma’am.” As for the parents whose children address them by their first names, well, the children will have many friends with whom they will be on a first-name basis; but they will normally have just two parents, their Mom and their Dad, whom they should honor (Ex 20:12) by respectfully addressing them by their titles.
Spiritual directors used to spend considerable effort in teaching the virtue of detachment. That includes the duty of responsible authorities to commend and to correct, to applaud and to admonish, to pat on the back and to kick, well, lower – as circumstances may require. Correction, admonition and punishment require detachment. Even as a former soldier, I can admire this succinct Marine Corps expression: “A Marine on guard duty has no friends.”
If we understand the noun “friend” in the sense of one whom another can rightly and reasonably favor over others, then Father Smith, Colonel Jones and Professor Brown have no friends; they have parishioners, soldiers and students whom they must always guide and guard and whom, from time to time, they must admonish. That can be tough enough for an appropriately detached Father Smith; it is very much tougher, I suggest, for the jocund “Father Bob.”
A few months ago after Mass, I saw a teenaged boy pass by the tabernacle, wave and say, “Hi, God!” I tried gently but firmly to correct him, saying something such as “That is the God who lived, died, and rose again for all of us. It would be better just to genuflect as an act of reverence than to say ‘hi.’ Don’t you think so?”
Informality is carried to blasphemous lengths, of course, when we refer to God as “the big Guy Upstairs.” Be careful, therefore, lest informality become profanity or irreverence. If it’s true – as I believe it is – that we speak what we believe and that we believe what we speak, an easy-going informality could lead to laxity, not just in personal names, but in moral norms. Familiarity may not always breed contempt, but familiarity rooted in what psychologist Edward Jones called ingratiation (pleasing people in a possibly manipulative manner) is the utter opposite of the spiritual good of detachment.
In June 2008, we were instructed by the Church that, in liturgical celebrations, songs and prayers, we should not speak the name “Yahweh.” Always, we must preserve the greatest respect for Almighty God (see Ex 3:13-15) and for the sacred name of Jesus (Phil 2:9-10, at mention of which every head should bow). We must never use the sacred names in vain (Ex 20:7, Dt 10:12). Informality – excessive familiarity – toward God is blasphemy. That is a reason for retaining the devout language of “thy” and “thou,” which denote reverence because they are a distinctive manner of addressing Our Lord and Our Lady.
So should we show respect for the sacred office of priest and for him who is privileged to hold that office, by referring to him, not as “Bob,” but as “Father Smith.”
Deacon James H. Toner serves in the Diocese of Charlotte.