Bishop John Heaps

By Tony Smith

Published in ACMICA Enews, issue 4, 2004.

When I was in primary school, a new priest arrived in our parish. The parish priest, who was a well known worker in immigration right across Sydney, said that the newly ordained priest had been sent to us as an ‘untrained colt’. He said this without any hint of condescension, his main intention being to assuage the feelings of parishioners who were missing the former curate.

The new colt was none other than Father John Heaps, who died last week as Bishop Heaps. I do not remember much about Father Heaps except that he was a gentle man, rather more bookish than the robust footballing types sometimes favoured by the young men of the parish. As he was always a gentle man, the parish could probably not claim any credit for easing the young colt into post-seminary life.

Many years later, I had the opportunity to read and review John Heaps’ book, and it seemed clear to me that the gentle man and priest had become a gentle bishop. I was favourably impressed with a book that was itself daring because it took the Christian message of love so seriously. How different your faith can look when you reverse the usual order of things, approaching all else through that essential quality, rather than love being just one among a number of topics or concerns covered in catechisms, liturgies and sermons! How different the Catholic Church might be if we all had the courage of John Heaps.

When Bishop Heaps died, it was disappointing to see that there were few mentions of his book to be found on the world wide web. It was tragic that at least one prominent link was to a very negative review. My review appeared in the magazine National Outlook, which is now defunct, and does not seem to have made it into cyberspace.

I think it is appropriate to ensure that my positive review is published again in the cyber medium. I would probably write the review differently today. Indeed, given Bishop Heaps’ passing, I would approach the task with a view to praising the man as well as the writer. This would mean approaching the task with greater humility and a greater consciousness of responsibility than I felt at the time. However, the review was an honest response to the challenges of the book and I stand by it without qualification today.

Love that Dares to Question

Love that Dares to Question
Bishop John Heaps 1998
Aurora Books, Richmond Victoria, Paperback 119pp RRP $14.95

Reviewers find two types of books especially difficult. Edited collections of works by a number of authors are challenging because the unifying themes may not be obvious. Poets write the other sort. In a book of verse every word is an essential part of the whole. Poems cannot be summarised or appreciated second hand but must be experienced.

These self-contained short pieces of reflection by Bishop John Heaps fit into the latter category. Some pieces are so tightly argued that every word seems essential. These are not rhetorical flourishes compiled to dazzle the reader and demonstrate the author’s superiority. They are written simply and say little about the author except that he is a humble person with an inquiring mind. In these pieces, especially the early ones, the book’s title seems totally appropriate because the questions are open ended and exciting: ‘Have you ever received a favour, yet felt that it was given grudgingly?’ ‘Is it unfair to ask how faithful we have been in passing on the beautiful message of Christ?’ ‘When we move from being the downtrodden to being the established people, does our sense of social justice evaporate?’

It is possible to imagine people of very diverse attitude but sincere commitment being united by these questions. In this way, they perform a small miracle by potentially speaking in many languages at once. Heaps reminds us that Jesus’ intention for his followers is that people will be ‘startled into believing’ not by momentous demonstrations but when they observe the loving unity that characterises the Christian community.

These earlier chapters are bite sized and would be excellent material for courses and for the meditative practices the author recommends. ‘At times, silent listening will be the most loving response’.

Heaps’ hopes for the Church are several, but they are all based on the idea that the sincere follower of Christ does not need burdening with laws. Rather it is possible to say to such a person ‘Love, and do what you will’. In this way, the divisions between ‘classes’ of people in the Church could be abolished, we will lose the insecurity that makes hierarchies and strictures necessary, and we will learn to trust the Holy Spirit.

Clearly such suggestions for reform are based on critiques of current arrangements. ‘Our calling is to set captives free. Have we made more captives than we have liberated?’

Love should cast out fear, not cause it, or attempt to exploit it to keep Church attendances high.

Heaps envisages a future where the traditional roles of Ministry will be performed in new ways. He advocates more intimate gatherings than large parishes for most purposes and urges the need to consider other divisions of labour than the present model that establishes professional clerics and lay people. Tasks would be shared differently and the need for celibate clergy isolated in presbyteries would diminish.

Two abiding themes that might trouble the Bishop’s peers are the need to decentralise authority and to stop forcing priests to remain celibate when for many, marriage would be more natural. He calls matrimony the sacrament of ‘holy nakedness’ because the intimacy of the relationship with one person can lead us to be open with others and honest with ourselves.

There will be those who attack Heaps for being too mystical, others who will see him as a stirrer, and others again who will charge him with heresy. But all those criticisms seem to have a familiar ring to them, and no such charges can detract from the contribution the book can make to liberating its readers.

No critic could deny the two loves – of God and others – that shine from the pages. Bishop Heaps risks much by baring his soul in this way, but he is obviously confident that he, like Jesus, offers the gift freely. No reader willing to accept even a fraction of the love could ignore the questions it raises.

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