Would we want our Black Catholic child to be a priest? Probably not.

One of the proudest moments I have had as a Black Catholic parent is when my two boys received the sacrament of baptism. As a convert along with my wife, who entered the Church in 2020, transmitting the sacredness and beauty of our faith was a remarkable moment. 

When I crossed the Tiber, my thought thereafter was, “What’s next for me in the Church?” When I think about the future of our children and their faith, I wonder the same. I have always been one to think of the long road. “Begin with the end in mind” is what I tell my students at my school, but using this same logic, what ends are we potentially creating for our children so that they might have a vocation in the Catholic faith?

My two sons are so young, only four-and-a-half years old and two-and-a-half. They are budding with potential and flourish with their unique strengths and personalities. I know that nurturing their lifelong passion for growth through learning will be something my wife and I support. With that, we don’t know what God has in their future. However, as a major responsibility in the domestic church, the transmission of the faith rests on us. We are their primary exposure to the depth of exploring the ancient traditions and history of the Catholic faith. 

With this great commission we have from God, we are confident that we really don't want our kids to be in traditional avenues of Catholic exposure to vocations such as engaged parish groups, direct contact, extended friendship with a priest, or the ministry of altar serving. These aren't the only ways a vocation can be exposed, though they can be helpful for planting seeds in the soul.

Due to the global sexual abuse scandal, lukewarm approaches to racism and combating anti-Black racial injustices in the Church, hyper-partisan focus among many bishops and priests, and our own general displeasure for the hierarchy, my wife and I would have many reasons to withhold our children from being in the divinely grandiose yet painful Catholic Church altogether.

After growing up in close proximity to instances of sexual victimization, we’d love to shield our children from all types of adverse experiences. However, in our world infested by sin, institutions like schools, homes, or even close family can be likely sources of abuse. We know that lowering our guard and being naive can be a slippery slope to long-lasting trauma.

When it comes to Catholic sexual abuse and African Americans, we are even more concerned. The abominable global crisis in the Church has crippled its public image, and there is overwhelming agreement that clerical abuse is an ongoing reality. 

The Black Catholic struggle in this regard is hardly at the forefront of the debate. Because the Church doesn't have a system that logs the demographic information of abuse victims, the actual number of Black Catholic victims is untold. Couple this with decades of faithful Black Catholics going abused, traumatized, and largely unseen and you can understand why the issue is even more wounding for my wife and I. 

It concerns us that if our children were ever sexually victimized by Church staff or clergy, who would be there to “say their name” when the hierarchy protects its unyielding power and influence against credible allegations, shuffling dangerous priests and hushing victims? We can’t fathom our precious and innocent children becoming a statistic with little to ensure their dignity and sacredness are protected. If we’re supposed to trust the Church elders with our children’s souls but they are assaulted, it would only create further distrust.

When it comes to anti-Black injustice in the Catholic world stateside and abroad, my wife and I have little confidence that the Church can be a leader for our racial, economic, political, environmental, and religious needs. When many high-ranking members dismiss the call to recognize the importance of human dignity and ensure equitable participation in society, it distresses us to see them go against our welfare.

Further, if one of our children were to become a priest, they could end up standing shoulder to shoulder with someone that sees them as undeserving of the vocation. That’s difficult to process for us because we know how it is to receive initial reception in Christian spaces only to be encountered later with disingenuity and a false embrace. 

Our child’s potential vocation as a priest would likely result in an assignment to a predominantly non-Black parish, which would likely mean confrontation with implicit bias and stereotypes. It could be a shattering blow to their ministry, just as Venerable Augustus Tolton encountered and Fr Bryan Massingale has also recounted. Even so, perseverance can be achieved. The willingness of faithful Black priests to stick to their upward calling despite hostility is a remarkable testament to the Holy Spirit working in them. 

That said, we are human, and our willingness to yield to overpowering psychosocial and emotional stressors is natural. When we see figures like Supreme Court justice Clarence Thomas, who withdrew from the seminary because of White Catholic racism in the late 1960s, and so many more examples of Black Catholic men and women with a thwarted vocation, spiritual fortitude is not easy. We as parents find it hard to grasp that the love of Christ, which permeates and sustains the body of Christ, would be exchanged with cold-hearted deceit when it comes to recognizing the dignity of African Americans.

But just because we have our fixed notions about the idea of our child’s possible vocation, the question of how we want our kids to see the grandeur of the in persona Christi model still remains. We would never strip them from seeing Christ working through the priest in the Holy Mass, receiving absolution in the sacrament of Reconciliation, or any other way that shows divine authority as shepherd and teacher. Through the priest, our kids should be able to see the power of God. 

Even though this may be true as a matter of faith, our desire for our children to be away from this office remains. We are faced with how to show we support the role of a priest without directly injecting our child’s well-being into the equation by suggesting it could be their path. 

We can still offer prayers for vocations. We believe that prayers are efficacious and intimate connections with the Creator, so offering those petitions to continually work within the hearts of men to be priests can be a thing we do as a family before Mass or during Adoration. In addition to this, familiarizing our children with the lives of the saints can be helpful resources. Proud African-descended holy men such as Augustine, Athanasius of Alexandria, and Tolton can be sources of inspiration.

I’ve interacted, whether online through conversations and interviews or in the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston, with a few great Black Catholic priests and their zeal for God is truly awe-inspiring. Despite that, the reality of being an undervalued or even second-class member of the body of Christ is truly a saddening thought. Vocations are important, yet maybe not our family’s spiritual priority. 

This is not an abdication of responsibility but just a different way we’ve understood centuries of data concerning Black American Catholics. We will gladly pray and support other Black Catholic families as they discern and witness in the domestic church because, as the elder population of Black priests retires, we will need young, militant, and bold newcomers to take their place. 

We wish circumstances and conditions were better and that the track record that exists wasn’t there, but we’re forced to make a decision as parents. In education, we often use the phrase, “One bad apple ruins the whole bunch,” and with the abysmal conduct of many in the hierarchy, sadly, even good priests who are compassionate and kind have to suffer.

We trust that God will guide our children as it is willed in the divine plan, and continually grow their affinity for wonder and awe for creation, love of neighbor, and personal spirituality. At the end of the day, we’re glad to transmit the ancient glory of our Catholic faith and trust that our kids will always grow in their baptismal call.

Efran Menny is a husband, father, and regular contributor to BCM. His work is informed by his experience as an educator and his studies in social work. He has a passion for elevating topics on justice and theology for Black Catholics.

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