Let's hear it from the pews: a modest proposal that would allow parishioners to give more input to their pastor.

MOST OF US THINK OF OURSELVES AS HONEST, reasonable, and open-minded. We genuinely try to understand the viewpoints of others. We also like to think that our opinions count, that, if we choose to speak out, we will be heard with consideration in every area important to us. This especially applies to our parishes.

Yet in kaffeeklatsches, lunch-break banter, or other chatter the consensus seems to be that where the church is concerned, the voices of caring parishioners are not really being heard to the extent they should be.

Often the conclusion among the pew-folks is that there isn't nearly enough exchange of ideas and opinions between the residents of parish rectories and those of parish homes, between the leaders and those who are--even if sometimes reluctantly--being led.

So apart from matters of faith and morals, in which priests are expected to have special expertise, there often is a lot of unrequited rumbling out there in pewland. Modern parishioners no longer buy into the old pray-pay-and-obey approach that used to assume that "Father knows best."

Unfortunately some clerics still don't seem to know how to deal with the potential "rejections" that their parishioners' expectations may entail. Thus a necessary step toward parish peace has to be listening to--and cautiously delving into--the nitty-gritty of what really worries the pewfolks.

Not all parishioners are the same, of course, but most folks do like to feel included or at the very least in the know about plans and programs that affect them personally, even if only peripherally. They like to think that their reactions are welcome and important and that their pastor would care, would do this or change that, if only he really knew how folks felt. Even though there may be parish committees busy with assorted plans, people still feel a tad resentful when it appears that such activities are proceeding somewhat sub rosa.

However well and sincerely meant, fait accomplis are rarely cheerfully accepted by the faith community. So how can a pastor open the doors of understanding a little more? How can he prove that he is truly interested in his parishioners' concerns?

Well, here's a modest proposal. It's an idea that pastors might initially view as purely purgatorial, but it would help them get a better sense of what parishioners are thinking and thus dampen any disgruntlement that may be out there.

I'm suggesting that parishes institute a "Letters to the Pastor" page in their bulletins. Not once a week, at least not in the beginning, but experimentally, perhaps just once a month.

"There's something very special in the bulletin today, so make sure to pick one up and read it very carefully," an announcement at Mass might say.

It should include an open invitation to one and all to share their concerns and opinions.

Just a few simple guidelines should suffice. For instance:

* Letters may be dropped in a convenient box in the church or mailed directly to the rectory.

* Comments should be brief and to the point. Perhaps 250 words, tops.

* Letters should be signed, but names can be withheld on request (just like real letters to the editor).

* New ideas--anything that will help make our good parish better--will be welcome.

* As in newspapers, the pastor may occasionally write a brief response to a letter that presents a topic of special interest or concern or something that requires an explanation. But people should be assured that every comment made will be carefully considered--and remembered.

* It is now open season for complaints as well as compliments.

THEN IT'S TIME TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS. IF ONLY A FEW PICK up the challenge, that may (or may not) be a terrific vote of confidence from the pews. If there are enough responses to require more frequent appearances in the bulletin--say, biweekly or even weekly--that lively debate will show the pastor where the parishioners' hearts are. If nothing else, this experiment should at least prove enlightening and may soften some of those sour notes that aren't ever sung by the choir, although everybody hears them somewhere.

By MARY MARGARET CARBERRY, a writer in Flossmoor, Illinois.