The Priesthood in 19th Century America

For a book report in my American Church History class I chose to read and report on the new book called Parish Priest by Douglas Brinkley and Julie M. Fenster (New York, NY: HarperCollins Publishers, 2006). It gives a biographical account of the founder of the Knights of Columbus, Fr. Michael McGivney, along with a good survey of 19th century American Church history. I thought a bit of information from the book would make a good post.

Two intriguing aspects of Fr. McGivney's life is that he was gifted from youth with exceptional intellectual abilities and he wanted to be a priest since his early teenage years. He wasn't interested in fame and glory or any worldly ambition, but rather to stand in persona Christi at the altari Dei, which he considered to be the most exalted thing a man could do. The faith, love, intelligence, sacrifice and courage of his childhood pastor left deep marks on the young McGivney that he carried with him his whole life (chapters two and three pp. 13-37).

This was the character of the priesthood in the 19th century, "The many high powered men who were drawn to the priesthood believed with a kind of determination in the ideal, protecting it with their deeds, not just words" (p. 33). Fr. McGivney himself was arguably a personification of this priestly character. The authors supply this short Native American story from the late 19th century told by the Montana Cheyenne Chief Old Wolf on the moral influence of a priest:

"In the land of the Cheyennes, there is a mountain higher than all the mountains around him. All the Cheyennes know that mountain; even our forefathers knew him. When children, we ran around wheresoever we wanted. We were never afraid to lose our way so long as we could see that mountatin, which would show us home again. When grown up, we followed the buffalo and the elk; we cared not where we pursued the running deer, so long as the mountain was in sight; for we knew he was ever a safe guide, and never failed in his duty. When men, we fought the Sioux, the Crows, the white men. We went after the enemy, though the way ran high up, and low down. Our hearts trembled not on account of the road; for as long as we could see the mountain, we felt sure of finding our home again. When far away, our hearts leaped for joy on seeing him, becasue he told us that our home came nearer.

During the winter, the snow covered all the earth with a mantle of white; we could no longer distinguish him from other mountains except by his height, which told us that he was the mountain. Sometimes dark clouds gathered above. They hid his head from our view, and out of them flew fiery darts, boring holes in his sides. The thunder shook him from head to foot; but the storm passed away and the mountain stood forever.
This mountain is the Black-robe (A Native American expression for a Roman Catholic Priest). His heart is firm as a rock. He changes not. He speaks to us the words of truth. We are always sure of our path, when we look to him for guidance. He is the mountain that leads us up to God" (pp. 31-32).