The World of the F.P.s

In the past 18 months, an estimated 400 priests have left the Roman Catholic Church in the U.S. For most of them, the transition to secular life is a traumatic experience. Unless a cleric enjoys private means, he is usually broke; unless he has close relatives, he has no place to stay.

Fortunately for these ex-priests, a number of volunteer agencies have sprung up to help them make the adjustment to civilian life. Best known of these is Bearings for Re-Establishment, with headquarters in New York City and branches in five other cities. Founded last year by William Restivo, 36, a former priest-missionary in Kenya, Bearings is financed by contributions from sympathetic Catholic laymen, each week helps an average of half a dozen former priests find lodgings and jobs.

Unprepared. Adjustment is not easy. The academic background of former priests is usually limited to their seminary courses, which are dominated by theology and philosophy--not exactly an ideal preparation for a business career. Some are so inexperienced in the ways of the world that they show up for job interviews wearing sports shirts. A few are alcoholics. Many suffer from psychological problems--ranging from what they dub a "Judas complex" (a fear that they have betrayed Christ) to sexual hang-ups over celibacy/- to lack of confidence. As a result, some ex-priests end up in jobs far below their intellectual capacities. Several former clerics now drive taxis for a living.

Thanks to the helpful work of such groups as Bearings, an increasing number of "F.P.s" (as former priests are now called) are finding reasonably rewarding new occupations. Many go into teaching--though if the Catholic seminaries that they attended are unaccredited, which is often the case, they must return to college to earn a teacher's certificate. Others enter social work. One ex-priest, only four weeks after quitting, got a job at Funk & Wagnalls Publishing Co. in Manhattan. "I was completely honest on my job application," he says. "I just put down that I was a laicized priest, and that sent them to their dictionary." Still others end up in less likely pursuits. A California cleric has become a chiropractor. One Biblical scholar now works for a company that makes rocket components.

Punch or Judy. Yet when an ex-priest lands a good job, he is apt to discover that the secular afterlife is no paradise. One former cleric in Los Angeles, now employed as a social worker, finds that his $700-a-month salary, which he at first considered lavish, barely sustains him. About two-thirds get married--taking on the added burdens of providing for a family. And though Catholics no longer automatically conclude that a priest who has left the church did so because of "Punch or Judy" trouble--drink or women--many are still suspicious. Parents are especially prone to disappointment. One Chicago ex-priest received a letter from his father that read: "You are doing your best to destroy a very happy home. Your mother and I have not slept since you left."

For the most part, though, Catholics have become accustomed to the fact of ex-priests in their midst; many of the defectors remain on good terms with friends still in clerical ranks. Nonetheless, former priests generally prefer anonymity and seek to avoid publicizing their ecclesiastical background. Says one former priest from the Midwest, who now is a Boston textbook salesman: "On the whole I have met with very little hostility--but then I don't tell everyone I meet, 'Guess what? I used to be a priest.' "

/- A major reason for defections. Last week in Washington, however, the National Conference of Catholic Bishops declared that any hope for a relaxation in the rule of celibacy for priests is "without foundation."

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