FR. GEORGE RUTLER
by John Janaro
The Spirit of Truth works among all social classes, among men and women of
education, laborers, businessmen, farmers, students, the unemployed, and
the socially important and powerful. Beyond their particular life
situations there lies a deep unity among people, grounded in their common
humanity and the call that each of them receives to share the life of God
in Christ Jesus. It is not surprising, then, that men who share in the
ministerial priesthood of Christ should come from all walks of life.
Further united by their special conformity to the Person of Christ,
priests nevertheless manifest the richness of Christ and His redemptive
action within the context of their own background and personal
development, which brings to the ministry of each a particular character
and relevance.
For Father George William Rutler this character is well defined, and the
fruit of a unique collection of experiences. Fr. Rutler is an Ivy League
graduate, a musician and painter, an art historian with an extensive
collection, a sportsman and long distance runner, and a writer and
lecturer with a considerable breadth of education and a wealth of
erudition. His priesthood, however, is central to his life, and his range
of interests and activities serves to mold him into an apostle who is
capable of preaching the Gospel in a wide variety of situations and with a
deep and penetrating knowledge of people.
Furthermore his priesthood is something that he particularly cherishes
because his vocation was intimately connected to a journey of faith-a
journey that brought him to full communion with the Church of Christ and
to the mission of deepening and strengthening that Church.
"His love is strong, his faithfulness eternal" (Ps. 117:2). This path of
the Spirit began for George Rutler in a pious Episcopalian home with
devoted parents. Adolphe Rutler saw duty in the second World War as a
Merchant Marine officer on convoys to Russia in the years prior to
George's birth on March 23, 1945. George's childhood was filled with the
familiar scenes of Anglican life; like many Episcopalian boys he sang in
the church choir, and he would be in church every Sunday, sitting
attentively in his choirboy's starched collar and listening to the rector
preach. Perhaps someday he would preach in the same way, he often thought
to himself.
When George entered school in New Jersey he had already begun to
demonstrate that he had unusual intelligence. At the age of five he
memorized the Gettysburg Address so that he could present it to his
kindergarten teacher. As he approached high school he developed a love for
the Classics, and his abilities had enabled him to skip several grades.
Thus at the tender age of 12, George entered the advanced program of the
public high school.
He also became more familiar with the world around him. This world
included Catholics, who engaged in a variety of practices that were more
or less unfamiliar to George. He remembers once entering a Catholic church
as a small boy, seeing the multitude of candles, and thinking that the
church was on fire!
George mainly remembers associating Catholics with certain ethnic and
cultural groups. The thought that an Anglo-Saxon like himself could ever
be a Catholic never entered his mind. It just wasn't something that was
done. Beyond these impressions George knew very little about Catholicism;
he was aware that there was "a very important and good Christian
gentleman" in Rome who called himself "Pius XII." He also knew that the
Catholic Church was vast, and at the time seemed to him rather
"unfriendly."
Therefore when George graduated high school at the age of 16, the Catholic
Church- large but foreign, and apparently irrelevant to his
situation-occupied no important place in his life. His long term goal was
to become an Episcopalian clergyman, a task that seemed worthy of his
intelligence and his genuine zeal for God's word. In 1961 he began four
years at Dartmouth, and the Ivy league atmosphere-permeated with a
sophisticated skepticism-moved the young college student to react by
reflecting more deeply on his religion. Modern atheistic philosophies,
masking themselves as "intellectual," obviously did not provide the
answers. George's French teacher was an existentialist who, after having
his students read Sartre and Camus extensively, one day committed suicide.
It did not seen as though truth could be found in such futility. "The
believer shall not stumble" (Is 28:16).
Historical study, however, revealed the development of the Christian
faith, and the origins of the "Anglican Communion" to which the Episcopal
Church in the United States belonged. George saw that the Church of
England had split from the Church of Rome in the 16th century, and he
wanted to be sure that his own faith was rooted in the teaching and
mission of the apostles and not the product of some confusing set of
historical circumstances. This desire moved him toward a particular
perspective of high Anglicanism known as "Anglo-Catholicism," that
emphasized doctrine, ritual, and apostolic sense. The connection between
the Church and Jesus Christ, he concluded, was of the utmost importance;
"since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with
a true heart . . ." (Heb. 10:2122).
Meanwhile, the "Roman" Church had convoked an Ecumenical Council, an event
that made no impression on George while he was in college. "High Church"
Episcopalianism seemed vital in 1963, and took most of his attention. He
became aware of the Oxford Movement, a trend within Anglicanism that had
flourished in the 19th century. The Oxford movement had sought to restore
authentic apostolic Christianity to the Church of England, and George
immersed himself in the thinking of the great 19th century Anglican
doctors, Keble and Pusey. One other leader of the Oxford Movement,
however, seemed a bit untrustworthy. John Henry Newman was a rather
disturbing fellow and George thought it best to avoid him, viewing him as
"a man of nervous temperament who couldn't weather the storm and just went
off and became a Roman Catholic." It seemed to George that the man whom
Catholics call "Cardinal" Newman had "lost his faith."
In 1965, at the age of 20, George received his AB. <cum laude> from
Dartmouth. With a grant from the Ford Foundation he pursued graduate
studies at the Johns Hopkins University, receiving an M.A.T. in 1966. Only
now was he old enough to enter the General Theological Seminary in
Manhattan. Covering an entire block of New York City, the GTS was like an
English cloister complete with tutors from Oxford and Cambridge. At this
time the GTS seemed relatively untouched by the turmoil raging in the
seminaries of the Roman Church, and George received a thorough formation
in an Episcopalianism styled very much after the Oxford Movement.
During his years in the seminary he spent summers in England, at Oxford
University and assisting in the poor parishes of London's East End. He
excelled in his studies and graduated first in his class in 1969, after
which he was ordained to the Episcopalian priesthood and assigned to
Rosemont, a church outside of Philadelphia.
Rosemont was an exemplar of high church Anglicanism; its 14th century
Gothic style structure served a parish comprised of intellectuals and
members of "Old Philadelphia" society While a curate (a position that
resembles that of associate pastor) Rev. Mr. Rutler received a doctoral
fellowship to Oxford and, after a year and a half serving the parish, he
had determined to go to England and finish his studies. In fact, he had
already begun his dissertation on Newman, who had proven simply too
troublesome to ignore.
Events, however, brought about a significant change in his plans. The
rector of Rosemont left for a parish in New York, and the "Wardens and
Vestrymen" of the Rosemont Parish elected George Rutler as the new rector.
Believing that he was called to shepherd a flock, and upon the advice of
his bishop, he gave up his doctoral fellowship and devoted himself to
parish work.
Thus at the age of 26, the youngest Episcopalian rector in the United
States found himself torn by a variety of ambitions, desires, and the
mysterious stirrings of his heart. He enjoyed tending the needs of his
suburban parish, riding a bicycle to his house calls and hospital visits.
He also served as chaplain at Bryn Mawr College. The stimulating life of
an Episcopalian rector seemed quite attractive, and George gave quite a
bit of thought to the idea of settling down and raising a family. Marriage
is an option for the Episcopal clergy, and the young clergyman was
considered an eligible bachelor in Philadelphia society. He attended
parties, gave lectures, and lived a pleasant life in a spacious and
comfortable rectory.
By all secular standards George Rutler should have been quite satisfied.
He was convinced, however, that something was missing; the fullness of the
demands of the Gospel had to be met. He began to realize that much of
Anglicanism took its outlook from the prevailing cultural establishment.
It had remained stable for many years because of the relative stability of
the society. Now, however, social and moral attitudes were changing all
around, and the whole Episcopalian structure seemed to be following a path
of accommodating itself to the new social perspective.
"Can a man make for himself gods? Such are no gods!" (Jer. 16:20). George
Rutler was troubled in spirit. Was there so little substance behind the
Anglican commitment to the Gospel? Commitment to the Gospel requires
conformity to Christ as He is present and active on earth. Where could he
find this presence of Christ?
The young rector found himself reading the <Apologia Pro Vita Sua> of John
Henry Newman. Newman's reasons for becoming Catholic struck him and filled
him with a certain uneasiness, but also a profound interest. He sought out
an old seminary teacher, soon to become bishop, who advised him to stay
away from that "dangerous book." But he did not take the advice; instead
he read it again. "When I read Newman's Apologia it seemed to me that-just
change the names and places, and it was rather what I was seeing around
me."
"God is light; there is no darkness in him at all" (1 Jn. 1:5). The Holy
Spirit was moving George Rutler to seek a full and firm foundation for his
service to Christ. As this inspiration increased, his desire for a
successful and amiable life in the rectory decreased. He saw himself more
and more as someone called to preach the Gospel, and to embody that Gospel
in his own life. He gave up the idea of marriage and joined the Oratory of
the Good Shepherd, an international union of Anglican clergy who have a
common rule of prayer and meet annually for a retreat in an English
university or monastery. He was now prepared to dedicate himself totally
to seeking God's will, and leading others to Him.
Nevertheless, he was surrounded by a spirit of capitulation. In 1976 the
Anglican Communion voted to permit the ordination of women. He found
himself confronted with a harsh reality: "Via Media", or "Middle Road" of
Anglicanism was dying. As he watched the sand being washed away from under
the edifice of the Episcopal Church, his eyes turned toward the Church of
Rome, and the Rock upon which it is built. "Simon, son of John, do you
love me" (Jn. 21:17)? On a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, he spent a night
by the Sea of Galilee thinking of those words. Objections to the primacy
of the See of Peter seemed to fade in the light of the glowing witness
that Peter had given, and was still giving to the integrity of the Gospel,
an integrity his own Church had abandoned. "If it were wrong to have a
Pope," he thought to himself, "it had to be very wrong that he should be
so right."
Still he remained with his parish, convinced at the time that he could not
abandon the flock entrusted to his care. After nine years, he had baptized
and buried many, and there were countless friends. Soon, however, it
became apparent to him that even his parish was slipping away. The
Episcopal bishop had set up a collection to raise funds for a "counseling
center" that was involved in promoting abortion. The young rector could
not in conscience participate; it was obvious to him that abortion is the
killing of innocent human life. The parish vestry, however, was willing to
permit the collection to be taken; to take a stand against it would have
been to violate the status quo, and that would have been most unpleasant
indeed.
Meanwhile the remnants of the Oxford Movement had a voice in its
century-old organization called the American Church Union. The ACU served
as a national "umbrella" group for high church loyalists as well as for
congregations that were splitting away from the Episcopalian structure.
One important component of their efforts was the establishment of a
journal called the <New Oxford Review>. Rutler became increasingly
involved in the ACU and began to write for the journal, which adopted its
new name at a conference held in Rosemont.
Thus in 1978, after having been elected national president of the American
Church Union, he was able to resign the Rectorship at Rosemont.
(Affectionate ties with Rosemont still remain, and a marker in the church
commemorates the years that Fr. Rutler served there.) He was determined
to "be ambitious for the higher gifts" (1 Cor. 12:31). The vision of the
Gospel-the generosity and universality of the redemption of Christ-is much
deeper, much more relevant, much more permanent than any superficial
conformity to the standards of the day. Jesus is more radical than that;
more daring and less subject to passing whim or established etiquette. "I
stopped looking for what is correct," he reflects, "and began seeking what
is holy."
The new president of the ACU, was convinced that the organization should
consolidate all disaffected Episcopalian groups and make a collective
submission to the See of Peter. The ACU, however, composed of many bishops
and thousands of clergy and laity, was in disagreement about the direction
of its future, and its president realized that God was calling him to make
his submission alone.
It was not any easy decision to make; Rutler felt a deep sense of loyalty
to the people who looked to him for leadership within the ACU He also
knew, however, that the truth had called him-that "any future
determination of my life's work should be measured by nothing other than
its harmony with the will of the Holy Spirit."
That Spirit was now speaking in bright terms to anyone willing to listen,
revealing the power and reliability of the Holy See, the guarantee of the
voice of the Spirit and of the unity He ensures. A new Pope had been
chosen in the fall of 1978; a man who had endured all the evils of the
20th century-atheism, fascism, communism-and who had proclaimed the Gospel
in the midst of them with humility and genius. Karol Wojtyla was an
inspiring choice, uniquely prepared to preach the word of God to this age
with the authority of Christ. "It was quite clear that the Holy Spirit was
doing something miraculous," George William Rutler recalls, "and I wanted
to be a little part of it."
"In the one Spirit we were all baptized" (1 Cor. 12:13). In September of
1979 he approached Terence Cardinal Cooke, Archbishop of New York, and
requested to be received in the Roman Catholic Church. Rev. Rutler did not
know what would constitute his service within the Catholic Church, or if
he could even be a priest, but he knew that he wanted to be a shepherd. It
had become almost an instinct for him to lead, and that instinct now
manifested itself as a call to share in the priesthood of Christ, to
possess a priesthood that had direct contact with the Body of Christ,
immersed in and offering His sacrificial love.
On September 28,1979, George Rutler embraced the fullness of the Christian
life in union with the Body of Christ, formally entering the Catholic
Church in a private ceremony at St. Patrick's Cathedral. As he awaited his
first communion in the Mass that evening, he reflected upon the reading
from the Old Testament appointed for that day. The prophet Haggai
proclaims: "The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the Lord of
Hosts. The latter splendour of this house shall be greater than the
former, says the Lord of Hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity,
says the Lord of Hosts" (Haggai 2:8-9).
This indeed was a familiar passage; it was the text of the first sermon he
had preached at his installation as Rector in Rosemont. The call of the
Holy Spirit was consistent, and assured him that all the gifts God had
given him as an Anglican had not been lost; rather they had been fulfilled
at last. The Church that had at once seemed so foreign was now seen as
home, and he knew that nothing he had left was greater than the mystery
that lay ahead of him. With this in mind, George Rutler rose from the pew
and approached his Eucharistic Lord.
Cardinal Cooke was determined that his new convert should pursue the
Catholic priesthood. Sent to Rome to fulfill any requirement that might
stand between him and ordination, "Mr." Rutler found himself in a curious
position. Living in the North American priests' residence, he watched the
others say Mass and hoped for the day he could join them. Formerly he had
had a staff and a large residence on Fifth Avenue; by contrast his new
room in Rome had a bare lightbulb and a broken window with an obscured
view. Yet this was a glimpse of the joyful detachment that brings a man
close to Christ, the poverty that makes saints. "The Son of Man has
nowhere to lay his head" (Mt. 8:20).
For two years George Rutler studied theology in Rome during which time he
was ordained a deacon. Then he returned to New York to answer the call of
Cardinal Cooke. This bishop, who possessed the full and authentic
commission given by Christ to his apostles, stretched forth his hands and
communicated that commission to Fr. Rutler. An eternal
priesthood-instituted not by mere men but by God Himself-took hold in his
soul. Back in Rome, he completed his doctoral studies, finishing the
thesis on Newman that he had begun at Oxford. The holy Cardinal who had
captured his attention, pricked his conscience, and enlightened his mind
was present once again as his journey reached its summit.
Fr. Rutler returned to the United States and began his service in the
Archdiocese of New York. The whole of his life experience had taught him a
great deal about the challenge of Christian life and the manner in which
that challenge should be presented to all kinds of people. And now he had
the power of the sacramental and preaching ministry; he was the hands of
Christ, reaching forth to bind the wounds of His sheep. "l will feed them
with good pasture . . ." (Ez. 34:14).
As associate pastor in Bronxville, New York he found himself very happily
in a teaching position . . . with the kindergarten class of the parish
school. A year later, he was assigned to Our Lady of the Victory Church
near Wall Street, a church that provides the Eucharist and many hours of
confessions daily for the businessmen, stockbrokers, and bankers who make
up the financial district. Here Fr. Rutler, whose preaching ability began
to be widely recognized, had an opportunity each day to proclaim the Good
News of Salvation to some of the most influential people in the world.
Furthermore he was able to make that salvation available-to communicate
its power-through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Fr. Rutler is
convinced of the central importance of this healing ministry in the life
of a priest: "a priest should never spend more time eating in any given
day than he does hearing confessions." Spiritual food for others, he
reasons, is more important than ordinary food for oneself.
In order to draw men to repentance-to the conversion of heart that begins
and sustains one's life in Christ-they must be moved to seek the life of
God. Fr. Rutler observes that many of the younger generation-who are now
assuming places of importance in business and professional fields-have
grown up selfish and indulged, without a sense of sacrifice and without
adequate instruction in the Faith. Thus, when Fr. Rutler approaches the
church pulpit he aims to break people out of the "secularism" that they
have ingested during the course of their daily lives without even
realizing it. When this contact has been made, he can begin to instruct,
and to challenge people with the demands-and the splendor-of sanctity.
He observes that "when the new generation comes into contact with the
authentic teaching and the interior life of the Church, it is a
revolutionary discovery, even if they consider themselves to have been
Catholic all along." This sense of discovery, which has guided and shaped
his own life, also forms and directs his preaching mission.
"And men from the east and west, from north and south, will come to take
their places at the feast in the kingdom of God" (Lk. 13:29). This mission
above all centers on the universal vocation to holiness. Fr. Rutler sees
the call to live God's life in fullness and fervor as one of the key
themes of the Second Vatican Council, and the foundation of the whole
renewal of the Church. The lay people must be respected as full members of
the Church, truly the People of God who are called completely and without
compromise to a share in the Promised Land of God's Kingdom. "Too many
priests, because we are sinners, are embarrassed at telling people they
have to be saints," Fr. Rutler notes. Yet the call to sanctity is the
cornerstone of the dignity of the lay person. A priest who fails to preach
this message inevitably takes a patronizing attitude towards the laity.
Fr. Rutler sees this kind of attitude behind a false type of "clericalism"
that infects the way many people view roles within the Church. Too often
the priesthood is perceived solely in terms of a bureaucratic
professionalism rather than as the task of making present the salvific
ministry of Jesus. Fr. Rutler notes that when priests are considered the
"professionals" of the Church, it appears as though the only worthwhile
task in the service of the Gospel is priestly work. Thus in previous times
lay people were not sufficiently encouraged to seize hold of their own
role in the life of the Church, while in the contemporary situation some
priests think that in order to involve the people in the Church they have
to put them at the altar doing specifically priestly functions. Both
attitudes, Fr. Rutler insists, deny the value of the unique task of the
laity to evangelize the world from within.
". . . by one man's obedience many will be made righteous" (Rom. 5:19).
Fr. Rutler is determined to inform all of his priestly activities with
that sense of the universal call to holiness, linked as it is to the
universal mission of the Church of Jesus Christ. He has recently begun a
university chaplaincy and now lives at St. Agnes Church on 43rd Street in
Manhattan. Here he encounters a wide variety of business people as well as
the whole range of society that passes through the busy life of mid-town
Manhattan on any given day. The variety and richness of experience in his
own life enables him to reach out to a diverse community, and his own
spiritual journey has invested him with a keen insight into the mystery of
the Church and its significance in the lives of everyone. "It is hardly
enough to say 'I obey the Pope.' We have to be taught to love the Pope, to
love the Church," he says.
This love for the Church, springing forth from a profound love for Jesus
Christ, is the fruit of Fr. Rutler's search and the center of his
experiences, his apostolate, his witness. From the Ivy league and
Episcopalianism to Rome and the Rock of Peter to a world that longs for
the message of salvation, Fr. Rutler has followed and continues to follow
the spirit of Christ; he has been summoned to embrace the unity of the
Church, to foster that unity, and to deepen that unity. The holiness that
Fr. Rutler seeks for himself and for the people in his care finds its
source in the unity which is Christ, whose presence is the strength and
the guarantee of the life of God's people.
Chapter 7 of "Fishers of Men" published by Trinity Communications in 1985.
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