#382 Spring Training—And a Catholic Spring?

On opening day of spring training this week, Boston Red Sox slugger David Ortiz pinpointed the significance of Pope Benedict XVI’s resignation.

 He observed:

An organization, a team, is like the human body. If the head is right, the body is going to function right. But if the head is messed up, then the body is going to be all over the place.

Of course, Ortiz was not actually referring to the pope.  He was talking about departed Red Sox manager Bobby Valentine.  Nor was Ortiz explicitly quoting Saint Paul’s metaphor of the Church as a body where the good functioning of each part (especially the head) is indispensable to all the other parts and to the whole body.  But no doubt he has run across that metaphor during his Catholic upbringing--and no doubt the pope’s departure surprised him just like everyone else (certainly more than Valentine’s!).

Many commentators have already noted that it’s been centuries since a pope resigned, and there’s almost no precedent for a pope resigning for the merely natural, mortal reasons of age, health, and frailty.  The pope is human, but many popes have been loath to acknowledge it, and many have even acted as though they were something else.

James Carroll has observed that Benedict’s resignation marks the symbolic shift away from the near- idolatrous divinization of the pope, just as Vatican II moved from seeing the Church he heads as a “perfect society” to the view of the Church as a “pilgrim people.”

But what commentators have generally overlooked is that Benedict’s decision is only the latest in a series of surprising decisions affecting the papacy over the last 50 years.  Taken cumulatively, these decisions have dramatically transformed the papacy in our time.  Indeed, a case can be made that the papacy has changed more in our lifetime than any other public office in the world.

To appreciate what this really means, we need to see Benedict’s resignation in the historical context created by his predecessors.

When John XXIII was elected in 1958, the papacy was an office marked by aristocratic grandeur and splendid isolation.  The pope wore elaborate robes and tiaras and, rather than walking the earth like mere mortals, he was carried aloft on a portable throne amid waving fans like a slave-borne Roman Emperor.  He never left Vatican City, but remained “imprisoned” there as a symbol of the Church’s besieged isolation from the hostile world outside.  And his rule was solitary too: the proclamation of papal infallibility in 1871 created the widespread belief that henceforth popes had no need of counsel from their fellow bishops or anyone else.  Indeed, that proclamation not only culminated Vatican Council I but convinced most bishops that it culminated all councils forever.

 
John XXIII began to change all that.  He divested himself of much papal finery, affected a simpler style, snuck out of the Vatican for evening walks in Rome, and convened Vatican Council II, calling 2000 Bishops to Rome to deliberate the future of the Church over four years, demonstrating that even the head of Christ’s Church could not operate alone.

John’s successor, Paul VI, continued that Council and expanded its agenda.  He adopted even simpler styles, including a good deal of modern art and architecture.  He traveled in Italy, then to the Holy Land, and finally to the new world, addressing the United Nations and saying Mass at Yankee Stadium.

 He was the first “pilgrim pope,” and he put the papacy back on the map.

The Smiling Pope

 John-Paul I lasted only 30 days before his mysterious, sudden death--but in that time he earned the label “The Smiling Pope” for his affable, gentle manner, thus moving the papacy even further from the stern “Papa” image of yesteryear. Even his name conveyed his desire to continue the transforming begun by his predecessors.

John-Paul II confirmed that name, then strode into the papacy like the actor he was, as if it were the world’s stage, and soon became the Superstar Pope, traveling to more than 100 countries, becoming the most visible human in history, and putting the papacy literally before the eyes of millions.  If John’s papacy made headlines, and Paul’s made the pope a world leader, John-Paul II made the papacy a presence to be reckoned with (as communist Poland, Fidel Castro, and even the Soviet Union soon learned). And, of course, he was the first non-Italian pope in centuries.

Then came Benedict (also not Italian), John-Paul’s chosen “watchdog” yet a quiet modest professor in his past life.  Despite his age and shyness, he confirmed the new papacy as a pilgrim office, traveling less than John-Paul but still drawing vast crowds. 

  He authored several encyclicals that present the basics of Christian faith, hope, and love in modern form, and wrote books on Jesus that he insisted were merely one man’s opinion. 

He earned his bad press with several PR gaffes (especially regarding other faiths) and with his belated response to John-Paul II's bungling of the priestly sex abuse scandal.  But the same time, he continued to transform the papacy into more and more of a human scale.  With him, the papacy seemed less like a monarchy and more like a ministry of service.

Such modesty also helps explain his resignation.  When John Paul II was declining with Parkinson’s disease, he deemed it the pope’s responsibility to offer his heroic suffering as a public model to the world.  But Benedict is not so ambitious or charismatic, and perhaps is more realistic.  Sensing himself incapable of doing justice to the office, he saw his duty in the very human act of accepting his limits, letting go, and letting someone else lead the Church.

And so, five popes later, we find a radically transformed papacy.  Gone is the ever-present papal “We” in favor of the simple “I”; gone are many of the regal trappings in favor of simple white overcoats and the popemobile. Gone is the stern dictator who can govern without consulting his own bishops; gone is the splendid isolation in favor of the globetrotting leader who commands media attention wherever he goes.  And now, gone is the lifetime office that seems immune to the limits of human living.

Why does all this matter?

Because it turns out that the new papacy aptly fits our times in a way that could make Benedict’s successor--whoever he is—more effective.  And ironically, my early reference to baseball is relevant here too.

For just as American sports have witnessed a culture shift to “free agency” that forces successful managers to become “players’ coaches,” so too the culture within Catholicism has shifted.  I made this connection six years ago, when baseball’s Opening Day came during Holy Week.  I wrote: “we Catholics have entered deeply into the era of faith's free agency.”

You see, back in the day when Ted Williams was baseball’s highest paid player, he and every other player were mere wage-slaves because of baseball’s “reserve clause.” Starting out their careers, players became the “property” of one owner, and remained so unless traded or released. If unhappy with the owner’s offer, their only option was to take it or leave it—that is, play for “short money” or retire.

Then came Curt Flood’s 1970 court challenge to the reserve clause, and the players’ wage-slavery gave way to free agency. In the new era, everything changed. Players with enough service automatically qualified as free agents at the end of their contract, and could negotiate a new deal with any owner they chose. This remarkable shift transformed the face of all professional sports. The upside, of course, is that professional athletes are now “free,” not owned. No longer obligated by law to one owner, they can choose their own team.

Why do I tell this history here? Because the transformation in sports echoes a similar transformation in our Church. In a single generation, Catholics have embraced “ecclesial free agency”—that is, they now can choose their own parish, their own church, or their own faith. They can even choose no faith at all.

Where sports had Curt Flood, Catholics had John XXIII. The renewal he triggered at Vatican II (1962-1965) ended the old “shepherd and flock” system where Catholics sheepishly obeyed whenever the clergy commanded.  In those days, any priest knew that he could get people to obey him by pushing the magic buttons of Guilt, Fear, Obligation, and Duty.

Vatican II--The Pope Consults his Bishops

 Once Vatican II’s renewal took hold, all that ended. Most priests stopped pushing the magic buttons, and those who continued to push them soon learned they didn’t work anymore. While my parents’ generation believed a single missed Mass meant the fires of hell, my daughter could calmly declare to her grandfather, “I can do God’s work in my own way. I don’t need to go to church for that.”

In other words, we Catholics have entered deeply into the era of faith’s free agency.  And free agency alters the role of our leaders in both sports and Church. Today, a professional coach may be judged by whether the players “allow him” to coach them—that is, he must earn his authority and their confidence. More and more, the same is true of the Church, where lay people may (or may NOT) “allow” clergy to lead them. The bottom line, as David Ortiz instinctively knew: no organization can survive unless its leaders have a reliable way to motivate the members—and the Roman Catholic Church is largest organization of all!

Small wonder that putting together a winning strategy for motivating “faith’s free agents” looms as the single greatest challenge facing the Church, not just this season, but for many seasons to come.

For spring training 2013, the Red Sox have a new manager.  And for spring 2013, Catholics will have a new pope.  And just as sport’s free agency means a manager must be the kind of “players’ Coach” who can motivate players to follow his lead, our next pope must be a “people’s pope” capable of inspiring Catholics to follow him. And there is hope we’ll get that “people’s pope,” thanks to the way the papacy itself has been transformed by the last five popes--including Benedict’s decision to become the first living “Ex-Pope” in centuries.

The papacy, which long seemed to be the stern face of God the Father on earth, has come instead to be the human face of the Catholic Church—personifying, in this retiring old man, the 1.2 billion  of us sharing life’s journey in faith.

© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2013

#367 Ten Ways Catholic Life is Better

Today’s tough times shouldn’t blind us to how much renewal we have already accomplished…

In these days of sex-scandal fatigue, declining numbers, fractured fellowship and polarized politics it is tempting to wallow in discouragement.  These are hard times.  We long for the “good old days.”

But there is another view.  As I observe my 40th anniversary in parish work (I began at St. Mary’s in Laurel, Maryland in the summer of 1972) I prefer to think of our present situation as a short-term stumbling block on the long-term path of Catholic renewal.

As someone who lived through Vatican II, I see our Church in the light of the Council’s call for a “Second Pentecost” to give new life and vitality to our ancient tradition.

But while Vatican II’s four years were my four high school years, my childhood was spent in an earlier version of Catholicism.  So my perspective filters through a life lived in three parts: (1) a pre-council childhood, (2) a conciliar adolescence, and (3) a post-council adulthood spent working in the Church.  From this vantage point, I see many ways the Church now is dramatically better off.

1. Catholic Identity.  Gone are the days when Catholicism shaped our identity mainly by giving us rules to follow.  Nowadays everyone I work with knows that being “Catholic” means to embrace a personal faith descended from 20 centuries of believers and shared with 100s of millions worldwide.  By now Catholics cannot remember the days when “personal faith” was an alien concept among Catholics.  Yes, the “good old days” had its share of “devout” Catholics--but for most the “Catholic faith” was merely a set of propositions one accepted and rules one obeyed.  The idea that God is love, and we are to be disciples of His incarnate Son, too often got lost in the shopping list of Catholic Do’s and Don’ts.  Those days are gone, and good riddance.

2. Liturgy.  Gone too are the days of unheard mumbled prayers and passive people in the pews.  Gone are full pews at Communion time (only 15% of Mass-goers received communion in the 1950s), rosaries at Mass, the “elites” who possessed their own missals and the skill to navigate among their many multicolored bookmark-ribbons.

Now people come to Mass for the right reason - - the Eucharist itself.  They participate in its celebration: hearing the readings, responding to the priest, praying together the Kyrie and Gloria and Psalms and Sanctus and the Our Father, greeting each other in peace, and coming forward en masse to receive Communion. 

3. Sacramental life.  I still remember when Baptism meant merely “washing original sin from the soul” of babies (and mothers were excluded), when Confirmation made “soldiers of Christ” of kids too old for Christian initiation but too young to take any mature responsibility.  I remember when funerals were morbid black reminders of death’s grip and God’s wrath.  I remember when the Eucharist was merely an annual duty-call for most Catholics.

Today our sacramental system, while far from perfect, has been restored to firmer foundations.  Baptism makes us members of the Body of Christ, and its fullest form is the restored Baptism of adult catechumens at the Easter Vigil.  Confirmation now comes between Baptism and First Communion, or else is conferred on youth old enough to seriously renew their own baptismal vows.  Funerals are now bright with color, alleluias, the Paschal Candle, and the hope of Resurrection.  And the Eucharist is once again the center of all, the way we come together as one body.  Even Reconciliation, though underutilized, is now humane rather than mechanical, healing without being clinical.

4. The Bible.  Many of us remember when “Bible” referred merely to that big coffee table book where families recorded baptisms and weddings.  But few Catholics remember that we never heard the Old Testament or the letters of Paul at Church.  Only the Gospel was read aloud and in English.  Now nearly the entire body of the Old and New Testaments is proclaimed aloud at Mass over a three year cycle.  And we’ve fairly well dispensed with the old-time “sermons” on whatever topic crossed Father’s mind, in favor of genuine homilies that unpack, interpret, and apply the scripture readings for the congregation.

Moreover Bible study has become part of many adult education programs and faith-sharing groups, and is built into every single school-age religious education curriculum.    So the Bible is now at the center of Catholic life in a way unknown to our grandparents.

5. The Laity. “Laity” means “people,” and the day is long gone when they were content to “pray, pay, and obey.” For 40 years or more, lay volunteers have assumed leadership in ministry as lectors, Eucharistic ministers, in baptismal and marriage preparation, in the RCIA, and as parish councilors and small group leaders.  And since 2005, lay professionals now make up the majority of parish staffs. 

Laypeople are no longer helpless children in the church, totally dependent on “Father” to care for them.  Such infantile docility enabled the cover-up of sexual abuse for decades, but Vatican II’s call for an “adult” laity finally doomed clergy corruption.  The Church of silence is gone for good.

6. The Workforce.  Gone are the days when parishes were run by a drill-squad of priests, alike in uniforms, training, tasks, and lifestyle.  Now parish leadership resembles a ball-club: role players with distinct jobs, different training, and specialized skills.  Before my arrival, the St. Mary’s staff consisted of three priests.  Today St. Mary’s lists more than 12 staff people on its website. Typically, large parish staffs are now loaded with laypeople. Instead of marching in lockstep, they must work like a team--which means their diverse gifts build up the Body of Christ, just as St. Paul described, in a way the old workforce never did.

 7. Women’s roles. Even as numbers of women religious fell, women rose to new prominence in our Church.  Nuns headed diocesan departments, became parish pastoral associates, and lay women as well flooded into parish ministries, until today women make up nearly 80% of all parish staffs.  Our grandfathers could never have imagined this transformation of Catholicism’s patriarchy--but maybe our grandmothers dreamt it!

8. Collaboration.  John-Paul II said “Collaboration is the act proper to solidarity,” and our unity as Church today is manifested by our deep commitment to a collegial approach at all levels.  Following the model of Vatican II itself, we now see Catholic life shaped by gatherings of the US Bishops, diocesan councils, parish pastoral and finance councils and a myriad of parish committees and small groups. 

I used to joke that Vatican II gave us lots of documents, lots of changes, and lots of meetings--and for the last 30 years I’ve made my livelihood going to those meetings.  The Church’s business no longer follows the Charles Lindbergh “flying solo” model, but instead uses the model Saint Paul had in mind when he addressed his letters to “My Co-workers.”

9. Ecumenism.  Who still remembers the “good old days” when Catholics were prohibited from any dealings with Protestant churches?  As teenagers, my older sisters were even kept from YWCA dances because the Y was a “Protestant” organization.  For my parents, Catholics were “devout” but Protestants were always “staunch.”

Over the last 40 to 50 years the landscape has completely changed.  We still have differences with our separated Christian brothers and sisters, but we no longer fear “the other” or shun them.  Indeed, many progressive Catholics now find they share much perspective with progressive Protestants, just as many conservative Catholics feel allied to conservative Protestants.  Such conversations across the ecumenical boundaries were unthinkable 50 years ago, but a commonplace now--and that has revised hope for a future when Christians will again be united.

10. The End of Quarantine.  At all levels, Catholicism has ditched its old isolationist posture in favor of dialogue with the outside world.  That world remains toxic in many ways, but rather than hide away from fear of infection our Church now opts for immunizing its people with a faith strong enough to engage those of others faiths and even those of no faith.  So our popes travel the world and address the UN, our bishops blog and issue pastoral letters on public policy and voter education, our schools teach a broad range of students from different backgrounds, and even our liturgies embrace facets of contemporary culture (folk music, photography, dance) that enrich our life as Catholics, living a global faith in the global world.

-----

During my high school years, as the Council progressed, my father once speculated on the outcome: “What if priests get just as good at mumbling English as they ever were at mumbling Latin?” The operative word, of course, was “mumble”--and he was right in part.  We still mumble along, trying to perfect renewal and sometimes stumbling on an obstacle in our path.  None of the 10 points above is perfectly realized. They are works in progress.  

But there is no doubting this: these 10 points have already restored an authentic practice of our ancient tradition that seemed impossible 50 years ago. They have made us a better Church.

© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2012

#363 What is "Real Presence"?

Can our Church make room for virtual community, and reach out and welcome those who live in it?

At the 2008 Beijing Olympics my nephew Jared Connaughton ran sprints and relays for team Canada, but his parents could not make the trip to watch him in person; instead they settled for watching the events on TV.

But August 2012 finds them flying to London to be present for Jared’s performances. “Seeing” him race in Beijing was wonderful, but being with him will be the proud moment any parent dreams of.

The rest of us, of course, will be watching Jared on TV --but if we’re watching during primetime, he and his parents will be sound asleep. London is 5 hours ahead of Boston, after all-- so most Olympic TV is actually on tape, not live. If we want to be surprised by the outcome, we’ll need to avoid any news of it during the day.

This is typical of our age, an age that has almost totally blurred the once-sharp lines between presence and absence, between the real and the imaginary.

Maybe this began in 1895, when Parisians panicked during the first public movie show. Seeing a train arriving head-on toward them, the audience bolted for the exits. (See the original here http://www.schooltube.com/video/bf11a6cb123389d19b53/  ) We now know that “suspension of disbelief” is the key not only to cinema, but also to TV, videos, and streaming tubes online. They are all just images on a flat surface, pure optical illusions--yet we take them for real people, real places, real events.

Of course, even before cinema people suspended disbelief. Greek theatre featured actors wearing masks and allowed violence only off-stage, yet the whole point of Greek tragedy was to evoke “pity and terror” in audiences. Mystery plays and passion plays aimed to evoke Christian devotion. Written fictions from Chaucer to Shakespeare to Dickens evoked an entire imagined world that touched and moved readers.

When photography arrived, people could see themselves and others without the filter of an artist’s impressions: we saw whatever the camera saw.

Then, with cinema, we saw things moving! So movies seemed to be, not an alternate reality, but reality itself, captured and reshaped and requiring no imagination by the viewer. So strong is cinema’s psychic blurring of real and imaginary that, when the Aurora gunman began firing at the midnight showing of “Dark Knight Rising,” many viewers thought it was simply a movie-related gimmick.

Next came radio and telephone, and suddenly the voices of others were in our homes. I’m too young to have witnessed my parents’generation’s awe at hearing FDR’s fireside chats as they sat in their living rooms, but I still recall their astonishment whenever they got a long distance call: “I can’t believe you’re in California! It sounds like you’re right next door!” For millions, the world was suddenly smaller, since absent loved ones were no longer so absent.

Then TV arrived, and overnight the entire world seemed to be right there, before our eyes, in our own homes. US Catholicism, despite its long fear of cinema and the “Legion of Decency” that protected Catholics from sinful images, quickly embraced TV with televised Masses and the theatrical “live” teaching of Bishop Sheen. Thus even Church came into homes.

Nearly 20 years later, cassettes made personal recording possible, and by now videotape and DVDs and flash drives allow us to preserve live action all of all sorts, to keep our pasts present in living moving color. With such technology, those who have left us live on in the images we keep to lessen their absence. (My own voice mail contains a saved message, now four years old, from a pastor who died suddenly the day after he called. Somehow I cannot delete that “live” voice.)

“Reality TV” has also been a cultural phenomenon for more than 20 years now. My youngest son, who does camera work for reality shows, can attest that the appearance of real life is achieved by careful, even tedious manipulation, repetition, and editing of images. And this is not only true of so-called “reality” shows. Talk shows, however live they seem, are generally taped and edited. Local news stations routinely run tape loops that repeat the same “live” newscast hour after hour. And just the other night I heard a dramatic Red Sox victory on radio and then--with the game already ended--I still had time to turn on the TV for the “live” image of the batter hitting the game-winning home run (since the TV broadcast is on 15 second delay)!

Moreover, since 2000 digital technology and the internet have revolutionized all our communications. Cellphones, instant messaging, blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Skype--all these enable us to see and hear anyone anywhere.

Studying in France in 1968 I was almost totally isolated from family and friends, except for the occasional letter. But when my son studied in Barcelona 35 years later, he was handed a cell phone at the airport so he could call home. And now, when I return to my Paris school to meet students, I find them in constant contact with everyone they know that by text, voice, and webcam. The absence I experienced, which so transformed me, is no longer possible. Distance no longer counts.

We see this every day, of course, when people absent themselves from a restaurant table to answer their cellphone, leave a meeting to take a call, or drive along oblivious to the traffic around them as they talk to someone who is not there.

This survey of our era begs the question: What difference does this make for Catholic life and faith?

One clue comes from pressing pastoral question that arose at the dawn of the TV era: “If we watch Mass on TV, do we fulfill our Sunday obligation to attend Mass?” The answer was: no. Walking into Mass fulfilled the obligation even if one merely sat or slept or daydreamed, even if one did not receive communion, even if one left early. But watching on TV--even if one used a missal, followed all the readings, said all the prayers, sat and knelt and stood--watching on TV did not count.

This reflected the long-held notion that the Body of Christ, even though sometimes called a mystical body, is actually composed of people who physically assemble in a real, physical space. “Wherever two or more of you are gathered together, I am with you.”

The Last Supper was a real physical gathering; those who witnessed the crucifixion were really there; the disciples learned of the Resurrection gathered in the upper room, and Pentecost occurred at a similar gathering. Early Christians gathered in homes for worship. The movement to convert Roman basilicas to Christian worship reflected the need for larger gathering spaces. The thousands of churches worldwide, and the great cathedrals and basilica spread over six continents, are not primarily shrines for private devotion. Above all, they are places for assembling the faithful.

Jesus said, “Do this in memory of me,” and Catholics gather to do as he said. Jesus said, “This is my body,” and “This is my blood,” and Catholics proclaim the belief that during Mass Christ becomes really present among us--and we call this our “Communion,” our coming together.

This idea of “real presence,” of course, reflects a simpler time when people were either present or absent. Catholics also believed, however, in a spiritual community that went beyond our physical community: the Communion of Saints who remain present in our hearts and prayers.

But now “presence” means something new. Someone answering a cellphone may seem more present to the caller then to those in the same room. Someone Skyping may feel more present to the person appearing on the screen than to someone two feet away.
The phrase “virtual reality” became commonplace because “real” reality now has a rival--and for millions, especially millions of the next generation, that virtual reality is often “more real” than the other reality. Virtual connections can feel more real. Virtual friends can feel more real. Virtual meeting can feel more real.

If entire future populations will inhabit two realities, if “community” comes to include virtual community, does this mean that as Church we must tell these people that “virtual community does not count”? That virtual connections do not count? That a virtual presence is not a real presence?

As Church, we must resist the temptation to dismiss this cultural phenomenon as irrelevant.

Can we find a way to expand our notion of “Communion” to include a new, third Communion, recognizing that the body of Christ maybe not only the sacramental Communion of faithful gathered to worship, and the spiritual Communion of saints--but also the virtual Communion now made possible by human ingenuity?

In short, can we find a way to make all these Communions part of the reality in which Christ’s real presence can redeem us all?

©Bernard F. Swain PhD 2012