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Mr. Richard Paddock Associate Director Guest House, Rochester, MN
The Blue Book, Vol. XXIII, 1971 Washington, District of Columbia
I am delighted to have the opportunity of expressing some thoughts on the challenging subject — Alcoholism and the Clergyman. The disease of alcoholism has reached epidemic proportions throughout the world. No stratum of society has escaped the insidious ramification of this major health problem, and certainly the clergyman is no exception. Attesting to this is the fact that many of the clergy present here at this Conference have felt the sting of this devastating illness. There are many accepted definitions of alcoholism, but in essence, for every person who has crossed the line separating the social drinker from the alcoholic, his personal feeling, experience, and understanding is the most important and accurate definition possible. Thus, my remarks to you this evening stem from my personal experience in alcoholism, as well as from the opportunity of working with other recovering alcoholics, both lay and clergy. I offer for your consideration my definition of alcoholism, which is: the learned inadequate way of living. I define the alcoholic as being a person who, after taking one drink, cannot accurately predict his future conduct. Since alcoholism is a human illness with definite symptoms in physiological, psychological, and sociological areas, there is little difference in effect whether the afflicted person is layman or clergyman. In the treatment of alcoholism, however, one must consider every aspect of the human dignity and social environment to arrest the problem. It is in this area that I discern a difference in the layman and the clergyman who have become alcoholic.
Recognizing the Problem
Before any problem can be dealt with, including alcoholism, it must be recognized by the person afflicted. In the case of alcoholism, the person who has contracted the disease is the last one to identify it. A very common identification problem with clergymen is that there is no group of people in the world which has a greater understanding and employment of logic. This is probably due to their “training” as opposed to their “learning” undergone in the seminary. I have met many an alcoholic clergyman who has spent years trying to determine the etiology of his recognized problem, but to no avail. If he were to apply the same tenacity in his recovery as he had in trying to figure out why he had been drinking excessively, his sobriety and quest for peace of mind would be inevitable. I recall a person from Cleveland who demonstrated this in the form of an analogy which I think describes the problem. “When does a cucumber become a pickle? The moment it is immersed in a brine solution? While it is in the brine solution? Or immediately upon withdrawing it from the solution?” Hopefully, someone, someday may be able to tell us why the alcoholic cannot drink with impunity. Meanwhile, we can treat and have successfully treated alcoholism without knowing a common causation. Another aspect which prevents a clergyman from recognizing and resolving his drinking problem is in the area of social stigma. I don’t think that there is any person who is more aware of scandal than the man dedicated to Almighty God. I find that in many cases the fear of scandal not only prevents the man from doing something about his problem, but just as important — if not more important — disallows his confreres from helping him, even though they witness the changes developing in the person. Compounding this problem is the well-meaning layman who places the clergyman on a pedestal, and virtually feels that he is something other than a human being, and therefore chooses not to recognize a human problem. How often do we hear, “He is a fine priest.” How rarely do we hear, “He is a fine man.” In my opinion, this is why it is so important to realize that alcoholism is a problem of the man, not the collar. Many times the alcoholic clergyman has difficulty in identifying with other alcoholics. At this point I will risk a possible problem in semantics by attempting to distinguish the difference between comparison and identification. As a defense mechanism, the alcoholic will usually try to compare his drinking habits and behavior with that of other people. This, of course, is the epitome of supporting one’s ego. By manipulation, he can certainly reason that he’s not as bad as the other fellow. As we all realize, in any comparison there is always going to be someone bigger or smaller, higher or lower than ourselves. Identifying, on the other hand, is seeing another person’s faults as well as his good qualities in ourselves. An interesting observation was made recently by one of our Guest House alumni. His premise was somewhat startling when he first offered it to me, but as I digested the possibility, it certainly became more reasonable. He felt that in his case he was trying to identify with the wrong people, i.e., he would go to AA meetings and would listen to truck drivers, doctors, business men, etc., describe their drinking habits and behavior, and he was just unable to identify with these men. Then one evening, he met a woman-member of the AA group who described the remorse and guilt that she experienced and the many devious ways she undertook to purchase her liquor, hiding her purchases, and being under the influence of alcohol when her children came home from school. With her children particularly, she felt tremendous remorse because she realized that she was not functioning adequately as a mother. This particular priest had not frequented many saloons, entered into barroom brawls, nor experienced many of the things that the lay alcoholic does. However, in this woman-alcoholic he saw many of his living problems in the same way she had experienced them, i.e., he never had to earn a living, he was rather a home-body than a man of the world, and as the woman spoke of her remorse in not fulfilling her responsibilities as a mother, he likened himself to a “father” who had not fulfilled his responsibilities to his parishioners. Obviously this man was not identifying in an effeminate manner, but rather, that his living condition as a clergyman was protected as opposed to the openness of most male alcoholics who are often more a part of active society. Most people feel that when a problem is recognized it should be virtually solved. This is true in many cases, but with regard to alcoholism and its recovery process, it is not a matter of learning how to stop drinking, but rather, learning how not to start. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that alcoholism can be only 10% drinking, while 90% of the problem is in the inability of the person to live and function realistically and appropriately. Many men have taken the pledge, promised their superiors that they would never take a drink again, with sincere intention. But again, failing to recognize that drinking isn’t the real issue, their unmanageable living condition forces them to eventually relieve the anxieties and frustrations of living by means of alcohol.
Rehabilitation Problems
I do believe that the best recognized approach to arresting this disease is the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. Those of you here this evening, I’m sure, would concur with me because of the tremendous recovery rate through this program initiated in 1935. Many people will say, “Well, if alcoholism is a human disease, why does the clergyman have difficulty in recognizing and solving the problem?” I have already indicated that we have a well-educated and intellectually sound person in this “certain human being.” His intellect is actually intact. In fact, I don’t believe that there is any alcoholic who has the ability to intellectualize to a greater degree than the clergyman. I personally feel that I would be well within the mark by describing many of the clergy I have had the pleasure of working with to be somewhat “intellectually crippled.” To reason with this problem and, in fact, to solve it by reason, has proven to be a futile experience. Even though, above all, the clergyman recognizes the healing grace of Almighty God, his thinking prowess prevents him from understanding the simplicity of Almighty God’s will for him. Some time ago, a lay friend of mine offered an experience he had with his pastor. This good man of God had come to my friend and said, “What do you think is the most important thing that I as a priest can do for you as a member of our parish?” My friend was somewhat non-plussed by this question, but in simplicity answered, “Father, the best thing you can do for me is to love God.” In my opinion this is a most profound, yet simple fact. I do not indicate that the alcoholic clergyman has no love for Almighty God. In fact, he has tremendous love for Him, for his parishioners and for his fellowman, but his behavior indicates he loves himself more. He doesn’t want it that way. He is desperately looking to change and wants to find the true source of happiness which at one time he possessed. In effect, no man can serve two masters. No man can be addicted to alcohol and have with any depth the love for Almighty God and his fellowman at the same time. In this area is the hallmark of recovery. Certainly, emotional instability is a characteristic of every alcoholic, including the clergyman. I think in this area there appears to be the difference in treating the clergyman and the layman. As an example, I refer to the book Alcoholics Anonymous, page 67, and I quote: “God save me from being angry.” “We avoid retaliation or argument.” Anger certainly is a capital sin, but the emotion “anger” is good. I don’t believe Almighty God would bless any human being with emotions if they weren’t good. Therefore, to denounce the emotion “anger” and, in fact, repress it, is denying not only Almighty God’s intent, but causing grave psychological ramifications. Our clinical psychiatrist at Guest House, Rochester, Dr. Conrad W. Baars, very boldly states: “Nice guys are sick,” indicating that it is natural to be angered when something unpleasant happens to you. To make believe that you are not angry is really sick. Afraid of their angry feelings, “nice guys” don’t retaliate or enter into an argument. The point I am trying to draw here, or if you will, the difference between the layman and the clergyman is that the layman blows his cork too often, and the clergyman is afraid to do so at all; both being extremes; both certainly cause problems. I would think, in the main, that we must encourage our clergy to express feelings when they have them. Of course, their behavior must be appropriate and seasoned with prudent reasoning. On the other hand, the layman often seems to be undaunted in expressing himself, and from his point of view must employ greater control regarding his emotions. I cite this emotional repression as being common to the clergyman, but not necessarily universal. There is often a misunderstanding by the clergyman with regard to obedience. As an example, I have seen many men who have not been able to discern the difference between compliance and obedience. To most, to simply obey without question is in reality mere compliance, not obedience. And this can lead to tremendous frustration. As I’m sure all of us have heard, but maybe some have not recognized, the purpose of a leader is always for the benefit of the follower, not for himself. I can assure you that in my experience in dealing with the hierarchy of the Catholic Church, the authority recognizes this. In the main, it is usually the subordinate who has the misunderstanding. Countless times, Ordinaries and Provincials have said to me: “Dick, my job would be ten times easier if these men would tell me their feelings when I propose an appointment to them.” In my opinion, for the clergyman to recover from alcoholism, he must understand the difference between compliance and obedience. Recognize the fact, if you will, that we have just as much success treating the man who “complies” with his Ordinary to come to treatment, as we do have with the man who goes to his Ordinary and asks for help. I have not met an alcoholic who has truly volunteered for recovery. Every one of us is forced by what might be termed external motivation to do something about our drinking. The doctor may say: “Quit drinking, or you’re going to die.” The clergyman might say: “Quit drinking, or your behavior will certainly warrant hell,” — or any other threat to a person’s well-being. When the alcoholic enters into the program of recovery, he is always externally motivated, but recovery becomes a solid, meaningful experience when this motivation becomes internalized for his own well-being. A striking paradox is encountered at this stage of recovery. Characteristically, the alcoholic, be he cleric or layman, is considered to be a part of deceit and delusion. His broken promises, missed appointments, and lack of responsibility would generally indicate dishonesty in thinking and behavior. However, to my way of thinking, for a person to recover from alcoholism, he must first of all, basically be honest. As a matter of ambivalence, the only reason a person feels remorse, regret, or even despair, is that he knows the other side of the coin — that is, honesty. As an illustration, I know what hot water feels like coming out of a faucet because I know how cold water feels. If a person were not basically honest, there would be no regret, no remorse, and therefore, no motivation to recover. Another eminent psychiatrist in the field of alcoholism feels that the alcoholic “drinks to become more normal.” He is trying to do the right, just and honorable thing, believing that he is the only person in the parade who is in step. He doesn’t feel himself to be dishonest until he confronts himself with the fact that he has virtually existed in a paradox by many times doing the right thing, but for the wrong reason. I have mentioned that the influence of Alcoholics Anonymous has been the greatest asset in the recovery of the problem drinker. Most clergymen, when they are introduced to the program of AA, like so many laymen, say: “I know all that.” True. The Twelve Steps, if you will, the philosophy of AA, is not new or unusual. Any philosophy can be adapted to it, and probably herein lies the real challenge. The clergyman is trained and educated to understand philosophy and theology. It is not unusual to hear a clergyman, be he alcoholic or not, quote St. Paul or St. John, or in fact, any theologian of high renown. However, when the alcoholic clergyman embraces the AA program, he finds a “personal God.” I think, in this area, a good sign of recovery is when the clergyman can speak freely about his God in the first person singular. Noted to this, of course, is his affiliation with the AA program. If he is philosophizing, speaking in terms of “AA says this,” or “We say that,” I have my doubts. But when it becomes “I feel this” and “I think that,” then this man is seeking and finding his loving God and His healing grace. Many men are astounded to realize that as they embrace the AA philosophy, it isn’t intended to save their souls, but rather to save their lives. Shocking as it may seem to some people, I’ve heard many priests, upon leaving Guest House, state: “This is the greatest day of my life, including the day of my Ordination.” I can only offer an observation. What these men are feeling is a personal God, one who is with them and felt rather than being merely intellectually formalized. Another aspect that I feel is unique about the alcoholic clergyman is his inability to grasp that Almighty God wants him to be happy now. I don’t think anybody would disagree with the fact that all happiness is based on self-denial. However, few alcoholic clergy whom I’ve worked with, go on from there to an aspect of virtue, which brings about happiness while living. As an example, I can recall a very dear friend of mine whom I had the pleasure of working with in treatment. He was a tremendously spiritual man. One day I asked him: “Father, why won’t you let people get close to you?” He thought about it for a while, and made great strides in mixing with people. Later on, I was encouraging him to join the rest of the Fathers in watching a football game on television one Saturday afternoon. He said that TV was of no interest to him, and really he saw no good in it. However, the following Monday he came to my office and said: “Dick, I thought it over, and on Saturday afternoon I joined the others, and actually enjoyed watching the football game.” And he continued: “The reason I did this was that it dawned on me that if Christ were living today, He’d be sitting in front of that television set watching the ballgame along with us.” Once again, some times it is very difficult for a clergyman to realize that he is intended to be joyful and happy now, and in fact, if he doesn’t take advantage of the gifts Almighty God has expressed to him, in so many ways he is denying His love. There is no group of dedicated people on earth who have felt the ignominious degradation of alcoholism more than the clergyman. It stands to reason that he feels the depths of remorse, disgust, and despair simply because he has experienced by close awareness, the love of Almighty God. Tragic as it may seem to the diseased clergyman, experience has indicated to countless thousands that once recovery is made, their ministry blossoms to an incalculable degree. I assure you the alcoholic clergyman not only can be helped, but is well worth helping. The countless thousands of people who can be influenced by a functioning, dedicated instrument of God’s will, is proof of this statement. I can recall just a year ago, a man came to us for treatment who for five previous years was living in what might be termed an ecclesiastical jail. At age 52, he had already spent five years in so-called “retirement.” Hiding him under the rug, again was not the intent and purpose, but in effect, this is exactly what happened. Finally, he was recognized as being salvageable. He came to us a disturbed, depressed, hopeless alcoholic. Just a few months later, after leaving Guest House, he was given a temporary appointment as a curate in a small Mexican parish in the South. Since he was an educator, as fall approached, he was reassigned to a teaching position. There, in that little parish, on the day of his departure, the entire congregation of men, women, and children gathered round this priest, chanting in Spanish: “Please God, don’t take our Father from us.” I am very biased, and at the same time very grateful. For you see, I have had the opportunity to experience the healing of Almighty God in myself as well as in many clergymen. No segment of God’s creation has felt the degradation of alcoholism at a lower level than the Catholic priest. And by the same token, no segment of Almighty God’s creation has experienced a greater richness of His grace in their recovery.
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