
We Catholics tend to have unrealistic expectations about our priests. We want every one of them to deliver brilliant, engaging homilies just like Venerable Fulton Sheen, possess the spiritual depth of Saint Thomas Aquinas, be as friendly and charming as Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and play soccer during their free time like the young Saint John Paul II.
Also, we want them to balance the parish budget without ever asking us for money.
In the real world, priests possess the same fallen nature as those of us sitting in the pews. The priest celebrated by the Church on December 29th, Saint Thomas Becket (1118-1170), is a perfect example of that truth.
Most people know the outlines of his life story. Thomas started as a clerk, rose to the rank of chancellor of England, and then became archbishop of Canterbury. As archbishop, he opposed the unjust policies of his king, who angrily ordered (or at least strongly suggested that) some of his knights get rid of Thomas. The knights brutally killed Thomas inside his own church, and his death was quickly recognized as martyrdom. Many details of this story are reminiscent of the martyrdom of another Thomas, Saint Thomas More, at the hands of King Henry VIII, except that King Henry II publicly repented of his role in the murder.
While Thomas Becket was known for his personal honesty, intelligence, and diplomatic skills, he was not a gentle, charming priest in the style of Bing Crosby.
By the time Thomas was proposed as a nominee for archbishop, he had become accustomed to the power and prestige associated with his role as chancellor. From that important position, he lived among and entertained rich, powerful leaders. When he was sent to negotiate a political marriage in France, for example, he brought along 200 men with him, a retinue fit for a king. Thomas, who was in minor orders at the time, did not apparently fall into any serious sexual sins, but he did experience the temptations of a life of luxury and influence. He was proud—a bit too proud—of his accomplishments, his position, and his honor, and his tendency toward arrogance was noticed by both his friends and his enemies.
As a man, Thomas Becket was politically astute and a good conversationalist, but he was also quick to lose his temper. Thomas spent the last several years of his life in a public disagreement with the English monarch. He was certainly justified in refusing to give in to the king’s demands; the king wanted the Church in England—including the clergy and its money—to be under his control.
The conflict between the two men escalated until Thomas simply refused to obey the king and had to escape to France for his own safety. Henry retaliated by confiscating the goods of Thomas’ friends and banishing them from England. From exile in France, Thomas wrote angry letters back to England, threatening those English bishops who had capitulated to Henry’s demands and even excommunicating some of them. While Thomas was right to oppose the king, his impulsive decisions—rapidly alternating between kind words and threats—only made the conflict worse. The pope himself had to countermand some of Thomas’ orders.
Thomas’s proud, irascible behavior is certainly not a mark of holiness. But there are many signs that he recognized those faults in himself and tried to change.
For example, when King Henry first proposed to make Thomas an archbishop, Thomas resisted. He recognized that as archbishop, his primary responsibility would be to serve God’s best interests, not necessarily his king’s. Perhaps Thomas could think of past decisions as a chancellor, where he had been more politically astute than Christlike. But the papal legate agreed with King Henry’s proposal to make him an archbishop, and Thomas gave in.
After ordination, Thomas developed a new rule of life for himself, one more suitable for a priest. He got up early each morning to read the Bible. He celebrated or attended Mass daily, which was unusual at the time for worldly men like himself who were appointed to Church offices. He ate more temperately than he had before and gave more generously to the poor. He wore a hair shirt under his clothing. He was aware of his own personal weaknesses, so he gave permission to a couple of trustworthy friends to correct him in his faults, even though he was their superior.
Saint Thomas Becket is certainly not the first priest to have a bad disposition and yet become a saint. The fifth-century bishop of Alexandria, Saint Cyril, was brilliant enough to be named a Doctor of the Church, but he was also a proud man known for his autocratic decisions, which led to violence and controversies that dog his reputation to this day. The early Church father Saint Jerome of Stridon was one of the most brilliant scholars the Church has ever produced, but he was also overly sensitive to criticism. When a Catholic named Helvidius questioned the perpetual virginity of Mary, Jerome wrote a strong rebuttal in which he called Helvidius “an ignorant boor” and other names. Padre Pio, now known as Saint Pio of Pietrelcina, was famous as a twentieth-century priest and stigmatist but was also sometimes accused of being cranky, a fault which is not too hard to forgive in someone who lived with the physical wounds of Christ for decades.
When a priest is ordained, he is signed with a special character by the Holy Spirit and is configured to Jesus Christ in a unique way (see Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1563). But that ordination does not magically change his personality or cure him of his faults and vices. Each priest has to work out on his salvation by cooperating with God’s grace, just like the rest of us.
Nevertheless, despite all his weaknesses, Thomas Becket deserves the title of saint. He was humble enough to recognize his personal faults, ask for God’s help to change, and take concrete steps to try to correct those faults. He lived a virtuous life, even while surrounded by wealth and power. And when he was asked to choose between siding with his sheep or the wolves, he consciously chose the sheep, though he knew it would cost him his life. Saint Thomas Becket was a true shepherd, just an imperfect and sometimes grumpy one.
(Editor’s note: This essay was posted originally on December 29, 2023.)
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