Dennis Horton: In his own words

Dennis Horton

Only once have I received a letter from the Pope. The two-page document came after more than 30 years of ordained ministry, dispensing me from the obligation of celibacy and allowing me to assume a new role as a Catholic layman.

While the dispensation brought recognition of my marriage to the woman who for the past eight years has been my wife, it also required the surrender of the other great love and commitment in my life. While I am still able to absolve someone in danger of death, I am excluded from every other exercise of pastoral ministry.

Unlike other lay people, I may not now preach or help to distribute Communion. Nor may I teach theology or religious education; and I am not meant to live in places where my former status is known.

That's not easy, even in our largest city. Most Sundays, I go to an early Mass in the church nearest to our home; by coincidence, it's the church where I first began as a young priest in the 60s. I come and go by the side door, and sit where I am least likely to meet anyone who remembers me from those days.

I knew that leaving my ministry would not be without pain, for my bishop and brother priests, or for my family, or for those whose faith I had sustained and whose lives I had touched. Only my wife will ever know the anguish we shared before my decision to seek laicisation was finally made.

But my lay status has a hidden and continuing cost. It's the feeling, created by the lengthy questioning that preceded the Pope's letter and reinforced by the strictures it imposed, that my ordination had been a mistake. That, in spite of the blessings they undoubtedly bore, those 31 years of service as a priest should never have happened. And that the only way my church and I can move forward is for both of us to deny the past.

From my place in the pew, I watch with sadness as the Catholic community, here as overseas, comes to terms with a growing shortage of priests. I'm aware of how difficult it has become to guarantee a Sunday Mass for residents of the Catholic aged care facility with which I am now involved. I take heart when I hear the National Council of Priests in Australia arguing for an end to mandatory celibacy, but note how swiftly the hierarchy in that country rejects its call.

Deep down, I know now that marriage would have enriched my ministry as a priest. The experience of loving and being loved is one of God's best gifts. To find my true self reflected in another's eyes is to recognise the need for constant growth and conversion, learning through intimacy to give and forgive, and to let the best that is within us surface through the little signs of divine presence which each day brings.