EXCERPT:
The recent news about the involvement of former Boston Archbishop Bernard Law in the investigation of US nuns reflects and typifies the destructive behavior of too much of the Church’s institutional leadership. This behavior is pushing away an entire generation of adults, millions who are calling themselves “former Catholics” not because they doubt their faith, but because they are repulsed by the performance of the hierarchy.
Law, who arguably ranked among the 10 most important prelates in the world, who ran America’s 4th largest diocese, also facilitated some of the worst cases of priestly sexual abuse on record.
…
His resignation brought three public reactions in quick succession: satisfaction led to shock and then to outrage, as Law was consigned not to exile, nor to punishment (let alone prosecution) but to a cushy role as arch-priest in Rome.
Yet now, the outrage turns out to be an under-reaction.
...
Disgraced or not, Law remained a “prince of the Church”--not to be confused with a prince among men. And that is the point.
Precisely as a “prince of the Church,” Bernard Law has become the poster boy for “business as usual” by ecclesiastical authorities who are systematically, albeit (perhaps) unwittingly, alienating millions of Catholics from their own Church. We used to speak of lapsed Catholics as “fallen away”--but now they are not falling at all, they are being pushed.
Now the truth emerges. In 2008, the Vatican congregation overseeing religious nuns and brothers launched a “visitation” to investigate the performance of American nuns. In 2010, three newly-appointed department heads -- US Archbishop William Tobin, Brazilian Cardinal Joao Brazada Aviz and Sister Nicla Spezzati--completed the probe, which largely confirmed the good work of American nuns and the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), which represents 80% of US sisters.
But that was not enough, because Vatican politics quickly altered the situation, as longtime Vaticanologist Sandro Magister explained:
This changing of the guard at the top of the congregation for religious was not at all to the liking of the cardinals from the United States residing in Rome at the time.
The cardinals in question were William Levada, who succeeded Joseph Ratzinger as head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (formally the Holy Office, formally the Holy Inquisition); Raymond Burke, whose hardline views as Archbishop of St. Louis led to his being “kicked upstairs” to the Vatican in 2008; of Bernard law, whose influence in Rome observers now call “widely underestimated.” Boston college theologian Richard Gaillardetz explains:
Until last year when he turned 80, Cardinal Law was active on a number of the Vatican's most influential congregations, and that has allowed him to assert his views on a wide range of church issues.
And Georgetown Jesuit Thomas J. Reese directly links Law’s behind-the-scenes power to his performance in Boston:
He [Law] clearly was in a position to have influence to the extent that anyone would listen to him. And many people at the Vatican felt he got a bum deal and were sympathetic to him.
In short, the ongoing denial about Law’s malfeasance in governing the Archdiocese of Boston has resulted in reward rather than punishment.
Thus the Vatican launched a second, rival investigation in 2009 which has now essentially placed the LCWR and its membership under episcopal receivership. This is widely seen as a “crackdown” aimed at disciplining “liberal” nuns for not wearing habits, prioritizing social justice issues over the fight against contraception, and critiquing official pronouncements and policies. Robert Mickens, Vatican reporter for The Tablet (UK) reports that Bernard Law was the “prime instigator” of this rival investigation.
Whether this interpretation is accurate is beside the point. The main point is this: leaders must lead by getting others to follow. Bishops must earn (and deserve) the compliance of the faithful by convincing them that their moral authority is authentic. But the last 10 years have destroyed the confidence of millions of Catholics in their own bishops’ competence, character, and even integrity.
If “business as usual” includes cover-ups, covert rewards for offenders, and backdoor maneuvers pitting bishops against bishops and Vatican office vs. Vatican office--then “business as usual” will no longer do. Our church’s mission is too important to be jeopardized by the growing belief that its leaders are weak, fearful, self-and-sex-obsessed men bent on perpetuating their own power.
Our Church is wounded. At this point, conducting “business as usual” is like pouring salt in the wound.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
#355 Faith and Family in the Face of Death
EXCERPT:
When my family gathered last month for my mother’s funeral, it afforded us all the opportunity to celebrate her life. But it also demonstrated how faith and family life can join people across wide gaps of belief and practice.
At this point, assembling my family means bringing together a multi-generational gathering of remarkably diverse religious affiliations. Although the funeral congregation was not large, it represented a bright rainbow of beliefs.
There were, of course, some conventional “cradle Catholics,” who have practiced their faith throughout their lives as a matter of family routine. Thus the funeral Mass, a typical simple parish rite, suited them well. The white vestments, conventional four hymns, and the congenial presider and readings by grandchildren all made the observance at once pleasant and moving.
There were also more devout folks, or those personally invested in church, who might have preferred a more personalized liturgy with a eulogy, some parts of the mass sung, and a program, but the experience was satisfactory for them as well (it helped that the grandchildren reading were women).
There were some liturgically rigorous relatives who were relieved that there was no eulogy, but lamented the chorus master’s use of electronic piano. Yet they too deemed the overall result acceptable.
There were some more evangelically-inclined members who might have found the homily a bit smarmy or wished for something more fervent or fiery, but were comfortable with it over all.
Then, especially among the younger generation, there were varying levels of church observance and practice.
Some grandchildren fall into the “conventional” category, while others constitute Christmas Catholics, and some are oriented mainly to the social justice aspects of Catholic tradition. Still others have more formally detached themselves from the Church. Among that generation’s couples, someone married in the church, some were married without clergy, and some are living together (engaged or not).
In addition to all these were the relatives from my mother’s side (the Green side) of the family. My mother was a convert to Catholicism, so her own family members brought yet more diversity. They range from mainstream Methodist to more evangelically-inclined Protestants to Unitarian-Universalists (of the agnostic variety) to others more or less unchurched.
In short, a gathering of less than 50 family members became a kind of prism for a wide spectrum of American religious life. I dare say it would be difficult to find so many religious “shades and hues” in a single family in most countries outside the United States.
…
So I felt a natural curiosity about how the event (which included both the Funeral Mass and the reception in the lower church hall) would strike me.
…
Following Mass we all gathered downstairs, and while the informal seating at tables tended to follow family lines, there was also good deal of mingling. Reflecting on the Mass, one cousin called it “inspiring” for its celebration of life well lived and its elements of hope. Another cousin called it “primitive” for its Eucharistic language about eating flesh and drinking blood. Why can’t Christianity, he wondered, get past that ancient (and, to him, barbaric) notion of sacrifice?
All told, I experienced a bewildering range of religiosity that nonetheless resulted in a remarkable display of common feeling of faith.
…
For me, the event reflected the shifting religious landscape of American culture even as it confirmed the unchanging value of ritual in both faith and family life.
When my family gathered last month for my mother’s funeral, it afforded us all the opportunity to celebrate her life. But it also demonstrated how faith and family life can join people across wide gaps of belief and practice.
At this point, assembling my family means bringing together a multi-generational gathering of remarkably diverse religious affiliations. Although the funeral congregation was not large, it represented a bright rainbow of beliefs.
There were, of course, some conventional “cradle Catholics,” who have practiced their faith throughout their lives as a matter of family routine. Thus the funeral Mass, a typical simple parish rite, suited them well. The white vestments, conventional four hymns, and the congenial presider and readings by grandchildren all made the observance at once pleasant and moving.
There were also more devout folks, or those personally invested in church, who might have preferred a more personalized liturgy with a eulogy, some parts of the mass sung, and a program, but the experience was satisfactory for them as well (it helped that the grandchildren reading were women).
There were some liturgically rigorous relatives who were relieved that there was no eulogy, but lamented the chorus master’s use of electronic piano. Yet they too deemed the overall result acceptable.
There were some more evangelically-inclined members who might have found the homily a bit smarmy or wished for something more fervent or fiery, but were comfortable with it over all.
Then, especially among the younger generation, there were varying levels of church observance and practice.
Some grandchildren fall into the “conventional” category, while others constitute Christmas Catholics, and some are oriented mainly to the social justice aspects of Catholic tradition. Still others have more formally detached themselves from the Church. Among that generation’s couples, someone married in the church, some were married without clergy, and some are living together (engaged or not).
In addition to all these were the relatives from my mother’s side (the Green side) of the family. My mother was a convert to Catholicism, so her own family members brought yet more diversity. They range from mainstream Methodist to more evangelically-inclined Protestants to Unitarian-Universalists (of the agnostic variety) to others more or less unchurched.
In short, a gathering of less than 50 family members became a kind of prism for a wide spectrum of American religious life. I dare say it would be difficult to find so many religious “shades and hues” in a single family in most countries outside the United States.
…
So I felt a natural curiosity about how the event (which included both the Funeral Mass and the reception in the lower church hall) would strike me.
…
Following Mass we all gathered downstairs, and while the informal seating at tables tended to follow family lines, there was also good deal of mingling. Reflecting on the Mass, one cousin called it “inspiring” for its celebration of life well lived and its elements of hope. Another cousin called it “primitive” for its Eucharistic language about eating flesh and drinking blood. Why can’t Christianity, he wondered, get past that ancient (and, to him, barbaric) notion of sacrifice?
All told, I experienced a bewildering range of religiosity that nonetheless resulted in a remarkable display of common feeling of faith.
…
For me, the event reflected the shifting religious landscape of American culture even as it confirmed the unchanging value of ritual in both faith and family life.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
#354-b: What Kind Of Catholic?--Part 2
A reader asked for specifics about the gap between Rick Santorum's public policy stances and "mainstream" Catholic teaching. Specifics below:
I include in that “mainstream” not only the majority of rank and file Catholics, but also the majority of Catholic clergy, as well as the broad spectrum of official Catholic social doctrine.
That doctrine led US bishops to join nearly all other bishops around the world opposing the US invasion of Iraq. They found the invasion a clear violation of Catholicism’s just war theory, but Santorum was indifferent to their concerns and voted to support the invasion.
Catholic social teaching also condemns unequivocally all forms of torture, including the “enhanced interrogation” practiced by the United States. Santorum has publicly endorsed such torture despite clear church teaching.
On immigration, US bishops have supported Catholic teaching that migration is a basic human right, and have bravely promoted efforts to protect immigrants’ rights and facilitate their path to citizenship. Asked about the bishops’ efforts, Santorum told the Des Moines Register:
“If we develop the program like the Catholic bishops suggested, we would be creating a huge magnet for people to come in and break the law some more, we'd be inviting people to cross this border, come into this country and with the expectation that they will be able to stay here permanently."
He also told the register:
“I'm for income inequality. I think some people should make more than other people because some people work harder and have better ideas and take more risks, and they should be rewarded for it. I have no problem with income inequality."
This stands in direct conflict with Catholic teaching against such inequalities, which are far greater in the US than in any other advanced industrial democracy. Pope Benedict XVI’s 2009 social encyclical Caritas in Veritate joined a constant chorus when he decried “the scandal of glaring inequalities” and called for government measures to redistribute wealth more fairly. Santorum’s position also ignores Catholic social teaching’s call for a “preferential option for the poor.”
CrossCurrents readers saw my recent coverage of Wisconsin’s attempts to curtail union rights, in conflict with consistent Catholic social teaching that unions are an essential element of just societies. Santorum, by contrast, is on record favoring the abolition of all public sector unions.
The debate on climate change reveals a similar contrast. While Santorum told Rush Limbaugh that man-made climate change is a “beautifully concocted scheme” that he regards as “patently absurd,” Catholic social teaching in recent years has clearly contradicted him. Readers will recall me reporting in CrossCurrents that the Vatican itself took concerted action to become the first carbon-neutral state in the world.
Clearly Santorum‘s faith embraces public policy perspectives that are dramatically at odds with a wide range of church teachings.
I include in that “mainstream” not only the majority of rank and file Catholics, but also the majority of Catholic clergy, as well as the broad spectrum of official Catholic social doctrine.
That doctrine led US bishops to join nearly all other bishops around the world opposing the US invasion of Iraq. They found the invasion a clear violation of Catholicism’s just war theory, but Santorum was indifferent to their concerns and voted to support the invasion.
Catholic social teaching also condemns unequivocally all forms of torture, including the “enhanced interrogation” practiced by the United States. Santorum has publicly endorsed such torture despite clear church teaching.
On immigration, US bishops have supported Catholic teaching that migration is a basic human right, and have bravely promoted efforts to protect immigrants’ rights and facilitate their path to citizenship. Asked about the bishops’ efforts, Santorum told the Des Moines Register:
“If we develop the program like the Catholic bishops suggested, we would be creating a huge magnet for people to come in and break the law some more, we'd be inviting people to cross this border, come into this country and with the expectation that they will be able to stay here permanently."
He also told the register:
“I'm for income inequality. I think some people should make more than other people because some people work harder and have better ideas and take more risks, and they should be rewarded for it. I have no problem with income inequality."
This stands in direct conflict with Catholic teaching against such inequalities, which are far greater in the US than in any other advanced industrial democracy. Pope Benedict XVI’s 2009 social encyclical Caritas in Veritate joined a constant chorus when he decried “the scandal of glaring inequalities” and called for government measures to redistribute wealth more fairly. Santorum’s position also ignores Catholic social teaching’s call for a “preferential option for the poor.”
CrossCurrents readers saw my recent coverage of Wisconsin’s attempts to curtail union rights, in conflict with consistent Catholic social teaching that unions are an essential element of just societies. Santorum, by contrast, is on record favoring the abolition of all public sector unions.
The debate on climate change reveals a similar contrast. While Santorum told Rush Limbaugh that man-made climate change is a “beautifully concocted scheme” that he regards as “patently absurd,” Catholic social teaching in recent years has clearly contradicted him. Readers will recall me reporting in CrossCurrents that the Vatican itself took concerted action to become the first carbon-neutral state in the world.
Clearly Santorum‘s faith embraces public policy perspectives that are dramatically at odds with a wide range of church teachings.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
354: What Kind of Catholic?
EXCERPT:
Rick Santorum’s decision to quit the presidential race last week offers a lesson about American Catholicism. Put simply: Santorum’s strength as a candidate is that his Catholic faith gives him an aura of conviction and authenticity that attracts many voters. His weakness is that not many of those voters are Catholics.
The lesson comes when we answer this question: how can Santorum’s Catholicism help him with voters but hurt him with Catholics?
The short answer is (1) Santorum’s faith is an authentic expression of the “Catholic right”--an extreme version of Catholicism that often resembles evangelical Protestantism. And (2) the Catholic right does not match the faith of most Catholics. Santorum’s appeal does not work on the mainstream of Catholic voters.
…
Some of this is undoubtedly rooted in Santorum’s conservative politics. But what sets Santorum apart from his rivals is not his politics--it is his faith. Even in this era when religion looms so large in our elections, Santorum stands out. Mitt Romney has been much quieter about his Mormon faith, Newt Gingrich soft-pedals his own Catholicism, and Ron Paul’s faith remains mostly unnoticed by voters.
Santorum, by contrast, always puts his faith front and center. He is as comfortable talking about theology as he is talking about policy.
…
Santorum also presents himself as a champion of religion, especially by decrying other politicians’ failure to protect religious values.
…
So why wouldn’t Catholics want to support a Catholic politician who clearly integrates his faith with his politics and also loudly defends the place of religion in public life?
The answer is that Santorum’s version of Catholic faith is so far outside the mainstream of American Catholicism, most American Catholics do not share common ground with him.
I include in that “mainstream” not only the majority of rank and file Catholics, but also the majority of Catholic clergy, as well as the broad spectrum of official Catholic social doctrine.
…
Clearly Santorum‘s faith embraces public policy perspectives that are dramatically at odds with a wide range of church teachings. Why is this instructive about US Catholicism?
Because the truth is that Santorum does not stand alone. Not only does he speak with an authenticity rooted in personal conviction, he also speaks for other American Catholics who share his version of Catholic faith. …
…
Such Catholics are, like Santorum, well outside the mainstream of the majority of American Catholics as well as Catholic teaching. And this affords insight into the current state of Catholicism in America.
Clearly “American Catholicism” now includes two kinds of Catholics—those who embrace a quasi-evangelical Catholicism, and the vast majority of mainstream Catholics. Such quasi-evangelical Catholicism often combines personal devotion with fundamentalist theology.
As Karen Armstrong explained in her book The Battle for God, fundamentalism may appear in any religion, and it always takes the same basic form: people who find the “modern world” too threatening seek to defend themselves by concocting a distorted version of their faith tradition which protects them from the values and movements they fear. The upside is they feel safer and more certain of the values they live by; the downside is they embrace a fraudulent version of their own faith.
In my parish work I meet such people quite often, though they nearly always represent a small number. They can be found at all levels of church life, and even in public life. They seldom enjoy wide public support among other Catholics, but they find allies among evangelicals and they can create the impression that Catholicism is simply one form of fundamentalist Christianity.
They also tend to consider themselves the only true Catholics, and have been known to refer to the rest of us as CINO (Catholics in name only).
…
Of course, one irony of fundamentalism is its pretense of clinging to “traditional” values, when in fact fundamentalism is a recent invention dating from the early 20th century. What Rick Santorum’s candidacy reflects is that such fundamentalism now infects Catholicism. What his defeat suggests is that most Catholics remain immune to fundamentalism’s appeal.
Rick Santorum’s decision to quit the presidential race last week offers a lesson about American Catholicism. Put simply: Santorum’s strength as a candidate is that his Catholic faith gives him an aura of conviction and authenticity that attracts many voters. His weakness is that not many of those voters are Catholics.
The lesson comes when we answer this question: how can Santorum’s Catholicism help him with voters but hurt him with Catholics?
The short answer is (1) Santorum’s faith is an authentic expression of the “Catholic right”--an extreme version of Catholicism that often resembles evangelical Protestantism. And (2) the Catholic right does not match the faith of most Catholics. Santorum’s appeal does not work on the mainstream of Catholic voters.
…
Some of this is undoubtedly rooted in Santorum’s conservative politics. But what sets Santorum apart from his rivals is not his politics--it is his faith. Even in this era when religion looms so large in our elections, Santorum stands out. Mitt Romney has been much quieter about his Mormon faith, Newt Gingrich soft-pedals his own Catholicism, and Ron Paul’s faith remains mostly unnoticed by voters.
Santorum, by contrast, always puts his faith front and center. He is as comfortable talking about theology as he is talking about policy.
…
Santorum also presents himself as a champion of religion, especially by decrying other politicians’ failure to protect religious values.
…
So why wouldn’t Catholics want to support a Catholic politician who clearly integrates his faith with his politics and also loudly defends the place of religion in public life?
The answer is that Santorum’s version of Catholic faith is so far outside the mainstream of American Catholicism, most American Catholics do not share common ground with him.
I include in that “mainstream” not only the majority of rank and file Catholics, but also the majority of Catholic clergy, as well as the broad spectrum of official Catholic social doctrine.
…
Clearly Santorum‘s faith embraces public policy perspectives that are dramatically at odds with a wide range of church teachings. Why is this instructive about US Catholicism?
Because the truth is that Santorum does not stand alone. Not only does he speak with an authenticity rooted in personal conviction, he also speaks for other American Catholics who share his version of Catholic faith. …
…
Such Catholics are, like Santorum, well outside the mainstream of the majority of American Catholics as well as Catholic teaching. And this affords insight into the current state of Catholicism in America.
Clearly “American Catholicism” now includes two kinds of Catholics—those who embrace a quasi-evangelical Catholicism, and the vast majority of mainstream Catholics. Such quasi-evangelical Catholicism often combines personal devotion with fundamentalist theology.
As Karen Armstrong explained in her book The Battle for God, fundamentalism may appear in any religion, and it always takes the same basic form: people who find the “modern world” too threatening seek to defend themselves by concocting a distorted version of their faith tradition which protects them from the values and movements they fear. The upside is they feel safer and more certain of the values they live by; the downside is they embrace a fraudulent version of their own faith.
In my parish work I meet such people quite often, though they nearly always represent a small number. They can be found at all levels of church life, and even in public life. They seldom enjoy wide public support among other Catholics, but they find allies among evangelicals and they can create the impression that Catholicism is simply one form of fundamentalist Christianity.
They also tend to consider themselves the only true Catholics, and have been known to refer to the rest of us as CINO (Catholics in name only).
…
Of course, one irony of fundamentalism is its pretense of clinging to “traditional” values, when in fact fundamentalism is a recent invention dating from the early 20th century. What Rick Santorum’s candidacy reflects is that such fundamentalism now infects Catholicism. What his defeat suggests is that most Catholics remain immune to fundamentalism’s appeal.
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