In his compassionate book, "Shattered Vows," David Rice recounts his interviews with former priests, their wives and families. At this time of year, the story of Sicilian Antonio Corsello touches me deeply, for it so resembles the first Christmas narrative. See what you think.

After leaving the priesthood, Corsello married Ina in January, and by the following Christmas, she was pregnant. They were living in the Torre Maura district of Rome, and close to starvation.

In desperation, Corsello wrote to the pope for help. The Vatican sent back assurances of blessings and prayer. Corsello wrote again, saying he needed something more, and received $14.00 in reward for his twenty years of service to the Church.

Corsello soon learned that the Church was present to his needs, though not in the way he had expected. Word got around the neighborhood that a priest and his pregnant wife were hungry, and those with the barest necessities themselves came carrying gifts of olives, cheese, sugar, etc.

After looking in the window and seeing there was no tree for the couple, one woman went home and brought her own to lend a touch of cheer to the dreary surroundings. When the baby was born, she was asked to be the godmother.

Corsello spoke of another poor woman, who brought gifts that year. When he went to her house to thank her, he discovered she was living in even greater poverty than he.

This, my friends, is the Church Jesus founded, and if we lose track of that truth, we shall have lost our way. There are millions of Catholics bewildered today over the priest shortage, and in danger of losing their way.

They cannot understand, for example, how, at the November meeting in Washington, the United States bishops could have issued a complex document on Church art and architecture, called "Built of Living Stones," and failed to speak out courageously and firmly on the growing crisis of the shortage of priests. Such failure gives rise to another crisis, that of the laity's trust in their leaders.

It is as if a mother instructed her children about how to set the table for a family dinner - use only the fine china and silver, cut-glass goblets, the best tablecloth and napkins - and be sure everyone dresses in his or her best clothes. However, the mother cannot guarantee that she will be present for the feast, and if she is not, everyone is to behave as if she were there. All would gather at the appointed time, but there would be no food, nor would anyone in the family be allowed to prepare a dinner nor offer comfort to the hungry members.

At this time, when unrest and confusion are growing among the laity, I find it ironic that the Vatican convened a gathering of lay leaders in late November to reawaken the church's "sleeping giant" - its laity.

Bishop Stanislaus Rylko, secretary of the laity council, said, "there is such a need to re-live, in a truly fresh way, amazement at the greatness and beauty of the Christian vocation - a vocation rooted in Baptism." (The "Superior Catholic Herald" 11/23/2000)

Indeed, there is "amazement" in the hearts of the laity, but I fear it is not over the beauty of the Christian vocation, but in the failure of the Church's leaders, themselves, to appreciate that beauty.

Otherwise, how else can one explain the indifference of the majority of the hierarchy to the fact that the laity are not being nourished in many parts of our nation and the world by either the Eucharist or inspiring preaching, when so many dedicated married priests are barred from the sanctuary and pulpit?

Fortunately, the laity is not a sleeping giant. The giant is moving steadily and truly, close to the poorest of God's people in Bethlehems all over this world.

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