Bring back the ethnic parish.

A model that worked

Why can't we all just get along?" Rodney King's plea during the Los Angeles riots was endearing, but naive. Sometimes there are forces at work in our collective soul - long-term injustices, generations-old fears, and deeply felt angers - that keep people from just getting along. As it is in our big cities, so, often enough, it is in our parishes. That parishes are "church" communities does not free them from having to contend with the social forces at work in the nitty-gritty realities of society. All pastors and most parishioners know that parish communities are subject to all the human failings, injustices, and even violence (though more subtle), of the society around them.

"Why can't we all just get along?" is heard in parishes whenever the gears of Christian fellowship lose their grease. Whenever there is a fight in a parish, the "Cry of Rodney King" goes up. It doesn't matter if the issue is a church renovation gone haywire, a pastor who too liberally offends, or (dare we say it aloud?), a parish fighting over race or ethnicity. For a good number of parishes find themselves caught up in a tug-of-war over ethnic, cultural, and linguistic differences among their members. Sometimes the war is fought openly in full-blown, take-no-prisoners battle, but more often it is fought subtly, strategically, and with plenty of plausible deniability.

A typical scenario might go like this: A long-established parish has a capable and dedicated cadre of people that over the years has built the place, invested in its infrastructure, and warmly worn the varnish off its pews. They feel ownership. Quietly, though, the demographics around them are changing. They themselves are not only aging, but their children and grandchildren have moved on, and other folks are moving in. They too are predominantly Catholic, but of some other race, language, or culture. The social equilibrium is maintained for a number of years; those in control stay in control and the newcomers are welcomed, but on limited terms. Gradually the newcomers become the numerical majority. Eventually a new pastor or parish administrator arrives who acknowledges the new social reality of the parish and uses whatever skills he has available to welcome the immigrants more warmly and offer them the full services of the church. Some of the old-timers understand and accept the newly developing order, but resentment builds among most of the former majority who, though still dominant, are now the minority. Somewhere along the line, the war begins, not so much between the established parishioners and the newly arrived parishioners as between the old order and the pastor, along with those who defend the new direction he has taken the parish.

One of the battle-lines is the parish facility: the dominant minority controls access to the hall, the gym, and even the church building; rules are set in place for use of the plant that effectively cut out the newcomers.

Other struggles often occur over the Mass. In an effort to "bring us all together," bilingual liturgies are planned for special feast days. They are fun and interesting for all concerned - up to a point. After a time or two, the line counters begin their work. Their job is to monitor how much of the Mass is said or sung or prayed in "our" language, and how much is in "theirs." If there should be a social gathering afterwards, the room divides fairly cleanly down linguistic lines. Different styles of child-rearing place stress on the cultural sensibilities of each group. Attendance of the once dominant group at such events drops off as that of the immigrant group increases.

And finally there is the money. The families who built the parish over the years and sacrificed to keep it running are still the ones giving the lion's share of the parish income. The immigrant group is still dropping little more than loose change into the Sunday basket. It is not long before at some meeting someone will echo the sentiment so pointedly expressed in Ronald Reagan's line about the Panama Canal: "We built it, we paid for it, it's ours!"

Sooner or later, the parish finds itself in one of those parochial nightmares where the old-timers are fiercely trying to keep control from slipping through their fingers while the defenders of the newcomers valiantly make the case for a new dispensation in the life of the parish. The immigrants themselves are troubled and embarrassed at the fight going on around them.

After some years of relatively public brawling, people tire and a sort of detente sets in; the various parties take their unequal share of the marbles and go back to their corners. The parish limps into the future with the old-timers and the newcomers going their separate and unequal ways, though the pretense of a single parish is maintained. The parish works, sort of. Occasional skirmishes erupt but are quickly subdued so as not to disrupt the illusion of a "church" free of such unchurch-like realities as race or ethnic-based strife.

Any renewed effort to redress the still unequal balance of "ownership" is met by extraordinary pressure to maintain the stasis already achieved by wearily imploring, "Let's all just get along."

So why can't we all just get along? Who is to blame? Who's the bad guy in this story of a parish caught in a trap from which it can't escape? It would be easy to pick on the old-timers as power-hungry racists. But who can blame them for feeling threatened by people they do not understand, people with whom they have little in common, and indeed people who are quickly changing the character of the parish that has been their religious home for decades? No one ever trained them to be cross-cultural missionaries in their own land. Until this new turn of demographic events, their sense of ownership had been seen as an expression of commitment and fidelity to the church itself.

The immigrants can't be blamed either. They never plotted any hostile takeover of someone else's spiritual home. If they were to remain Catholic in a strange land, there was nowhere else for them to go.

And don't blame the pastors who presided, more or less, competently over the various stages of this rending of parochial peace. There were no other options. They had to walk a tightrope while wondering with not a little anguish what it means to "pastor" two such diverse families under one parochial roof.

This is not an imaginary scenario. It is, in fact, what is happening in many parishes in the United States today. The number that have had to adapt themselves to an influx of Hispanic or other immigrant groups is substantial, and few dioceses have been left untouched over the past thirty years. In most of these parishes, there has been minimal success in integrating immigrant populations with existing ones. What is sad is the large number of American parishes now caught up in their own parochial versions of racial strife; this need not have been.

In many, if not most, U.S. dioceses, a consensus developed among diocesan leadership that ethnic parishes were almost always a bad thing. The conventional wisdom developed that such parishes ghettoize immigrant groups, separate Catholics from one another, and are contrary to the communal nature of the church. Probably no formal decision was made in most cases, but standard diocesan policy became one of integrating new immigrant communities into existing parishes. There have been few new parishes for the new arrivals. People of different cultural and linguistic, not to mention racial, backgrounds were expected to fold neatly into pre-existing parishes with different traditions, social expectations, and even gut-level understandings of Catholicism itself. It was believed that with time, patience, and a modicum of Christian charity, the pastoral needs of all could be met. The immigrants would soon learn English, adopt American customs, and come to live their religion the way the rest of us do. There would be no need for substantial structural change in our parishes or dioceses; there would be no fundamental need for us to change for their sake. Above all, there would be no need for ethnic parishes and all the presumed ill effects they would bring.

It hasn't worked out that way. The folding of the new into the old for the good of all has resulted in many cases of fractured parishes. And most serious of all, in too many dioceses there has been a hidden abdication of the local church's mission to minister evangelically, pastorally, and strategically to immigrants. The consequences have eroded the "Catholicity" of the new immigrant communities. Father Andrew Greeley's studies indicate that 20 percent of Hispanics raised Catholic are no longer so (see, America, September 27, 1997). How much has the bias toward integrating Hispanic Catholics into existing Anglo parishes been a factor in this demographic disaster?

Few preexisting parishes, and few parish pastors, have ever been equipped structurally, financially, or pastorally to minister effectively in bicultural or multicultural situations. Cultural and racial gaps widen rather than shrink as naive hopes for "bridge building" become strained beyond repair. Like a car limping home after a mechanical failure on the road, ministry, outreach, and real evangelization are carried out at a minimal, "just get along" level. Masses are celebrated, confessions are heard, some Bible study or Renew groups might be formed, perhaps a Cursillo or Lenten mission happens, but little more.

This unhappy state has come about for at least two reasons: First, our parishes have been victims of a naive belief on the part of church leaders that the sociological forces roiling inside a local community are of little concern, since the church's professed commitment to love and justice immunizes it to the kinds of social stresses that affect the larger society. As those who have ministered in bicultural parishes know, just under the surface the reality is far more unpleasant.

Second, parishes have suffered under the well-intentioned but ecclesially deficient view that the parish is the local church. In fact, the development of the parish structure over the centuries has been successful as an evangelical tool precisely because of its flexibility in the face of new social realities. But it is not the parish that the church has traditionally seen as the locus for "catholicity." Rather, the parish is a practical structure for meeting peoples' specific pastoral needs while the "catholicity" of the church pertains to the local church as diocese under the pastoral care of its bishop. The pastoral wisdom of the church has recognized that communities of the faithful brought together by common cultures, nationalities, or languages may best be served by parishes of their own rather than by integration into pre-existing, geographically based parishes. Even the Revised Code of Canon Law of 1983 incorporates this pastoral instinct in canon 518. The unity of the church neither demands nor expects that parishes be the place where we all just get along. That's the diocese's job.

There is a better way to meet the pastoral needs of both established parishioners and newly arriving Catholics with other languages, cultures, and ways of being Catholic. The concept of the ethnic parish served the American church extremely well for over a hundred years; there is no ecclesial reason why it couldn't be taken out of our pastoral closet once again, polished up a bit with necessary adaptations, and put back to work as the American church strives once again to meet the massive pastoral challenges presented by large new immigrant communities. There are in fact many very good reasons why the ethnic or language-based parish should be allowed an opportunity to serve our church again.

The hemorrhaging of the church among immigrant communities that Father Greeley reports in his studies is one sobering sign of how ineffective our one-parish-fits-all ministry has been to new immigrant communities. They do not find a spiritual home in our Anglo-American parishes. Too many of our pastors and pastoral ministers do not understand either the languages or the cultures they are asked to serve, making it impossible for them to preach, heal, or sanctify effectively. Financial resources for pastoral outreach are limited because they are already dedicated to other parish programs or to parochial schools that too often are only minimally accessible to the new immigrant communities. The newly arrived have not felt welcomed or invited to take ownership of their church in their new land.

Given their own parishes and provided at least one pastoral agent reasonably fluent in their own language and culture, these new immigrant communities could flourish instead of languish. As ownership developed, financial commitment would increase. Immigrant parishioners would no longer feel like visitors trespassing on someone else's turf, but could live their faith, pass on their traditions, and even adapt to the new culture surrounding them on their own terms and at their own speed. Pastoral planning and execution could proceed on their terms and according to their sensitivities and expectations, not according to those of the dominant group. It would not be perfect; no parish ever is. But it would be better, significantly better, than what our bicultural parishes have been trying to do over the past twenty or thirty years.

Each time the notion of ethnic parishes is broached in any sort of public forum of either clergy or laity, jaws drop, eyes widen, and looks of astonishment at such a retrograde idea cross the faces of many. "I thought the church was in the business of bringing people together, not separating them!" "We tried ethnic parishes in this country once; we don't need to make that mistake again!" "If we all just ate each other's foods and learned how to say 'hello' in each other's language, and just loved each other more then we wouldn't have any of these problems!"

Such sentiments are sincere, but naive and not pastorally helpful. Our modern American sense of "getting along" is keeping our church from ministering effectively to immigrant populations. Our misguided ecclesiology of parish as the locus of all that is church is preventing us from allowing others to bloom evangelically in their own right. Our subtle but always present presumption that they need to do it our way, on our terms, according to our schedule is drilling holes in Peter's barque in the United States as it sails into the next century. It is time to trust, respect, and love our new Catholics by giving them their own parishes, as our grandparents were given theirs.

FELLOWSHIPS AT THE CENTER FOR THE STUDY OF VALUES IN PUBLIC LIFE

Harvard Divinity School, 1999-2000

The Center for the Study of Values in Public Life at Harvard Divinity School invites applications from scholars and practitioners to be in residence for one semester or one academic year. Fellows will pursue research projects that recognize religious beliefs and practices as important elements in the current debate about civil society and the renewal of public life; participate in an interdisciplinary seminar involving senior scholars and practitioners; and convene a student working group around a central issue in one's area of expertise. Participants receive a stipend of $40,000 for a full-year Fellowship (or $20,000 for a one-semester Fellowship); home institutions are expected to provide additional support, plus all benefits. Deadline date for receipt of applications is December 18, 1998. To receive an application cover sheet, please contact: The Center for the Study of Values in Public Life, Harvard Divinity School, 45 Francis Avenue, Cambridge, MA 02138 (telephone: [phone]; fax: [phone]; e-mail: [e-mail]).

The Reverend Kevin Codd is a priest of the Diocese of Spokane and pastor of Immaculate Conception Church in Oroville, Washington.