On Filial Submission to the Roman Pontiff

Contra: The Charge of Ultramontansim

Why is it that papal critics rashly jump to the accusation of ultramontanism if you defend the pope against their criticism?

How many times have I been told, "you know, the Pope is not infallible in _everything_ he says?" I'm like, "duh. Yes, I know that. Say hello to my little friend, Mr. Straw Man. You two seem to know each other already."

Saying that we should receive papal teaching, whether infallible or not, from a standpoint of filial submission is not, I believe, ultramontane. Saying that we should presume the most generous interpretation that is in accord with Tradition is not, I think, ultramontane.

Can you believe Pope Francis wrote this?? "Nor must it be thought that what is expounded in Encyclical Letters does not of itself demand consent, since in writing such Letters the Popes do not exercise the supreme power of their Teaching Authority. For these matters are taught with the ordinary teaching authority, of which it is true to say: 'He who heareth you, heareth me' ... if the Supreme Pontiffs in their official documents purposely pass judgment on a matter up to that time under dispute, it is obvious that that matter, according to the mind and will of the Pontiffs, cannot be any longer considered a question open to discussion among theologians [or random laity on the internet]."

Oh wait, he didn't. That was Pope Piux XII in Humani Generis, 20.

Baltimore Catechism
148. Did Christ intend that the special power of chief teacher and ruler of the entire Church should be exercised by Saint Peter alone?

Christ did not intend that the special power of chief teacher and ruler of the entire Church should be exercised by Saint Peter alone, but intended that this power should be passed down to his successor, the Pope, the Bishop of Rome, who is the Vicar of Christ on earth and the visible head of the Church.

Code of Canon Law
Can. 752 Although not an assent of faith, a religious submission of the intellect and will must be given to a doctrine which the Supreme Pontiff or the college of bishops declares concerning faith or morals when they exercise the authentic magisterium, even if they do not intend to proclaim it by definitive act; therefore, the Christian faithful are to take care to avoid those things which do not agree with it. (my emphasis)


One could go on. Our Tradition is firmly in the camp of preferring filial submission to the Pope. The fact that the Pope, when not speaking ex cathedra, _can_ be wrong does not change this basic posture or give one license to unrestrainedly level public criticisms and suggestions or outright claims of promoting heresy.

Our response, when the Pope teaches something that challenges our own understanding of faith and morals, should be to question our own understanding rather than the Holy Father's. It should be to generously try to interpret what the Holy Father is teaching within the context of Tradition.

It should not be to rattle off an anxious and accusatory article or blog post, start blabbing about our concerns and criticisms all over the internet, start demanding "clarification," creating "open letters" and collecting signatories, and so on. Posting "public theses" on the "door" of the internet is a distinctly Protestant act, not Catholic.

And so I think those who are inclined to do such need to be much more reticent: more reticent in their criticisms of the hierarchy--especially the pope; more reticent in how they choose to criticize (i.e., using proper ecclesiastical channels if there is real concern, rather than the internet), and more reticent in their completely unjustifiable accusations of ultramontanism when they are challenged for such behavior.

The Riches and Poverty of the Church

Much has already been made of our new pope's obvious humility and closeness to the poor and needy. Everyone who knows him seems to confirm it; he already has a history of living it (e.g., eschewing the episcopal palace and living in a normal apartment, preparing his own meals, using public transportation, telling his people to stay in Argentina rather than coming to his incardination and now installation as pope, to give the money they would spend on the trip to the poor, visiting the poor and sick, washing their feet,  and so on), and he is making an effort to continue living it now that he is pope.

We have seen it in his choice of simple white cassock and black shoes when he was introduced; we presumed it in his choice of name; we have seen it in his choices to not take advantage of various papal niceties thus far, and I have no doubt that we will continue to see it.



Today he spoke on his choice of Francis, confirming that it is indeed after St. Francis of Assisi:

"Francis of Assisi...the man of poverty, the man of peace, the man who loves and guards creation... How I would like a church that is poor and for the poor."

One of the first things he did, the morning after being elected, was to visit the tomb of Pope St. Pius V, a Dominican pope, a reformer, and, interestingly enough, the pope who started the tradition of wearing a simple white cassock--which is the habit of the Dominicans.

St. Francis was also a reformer. Although he only became a deacon, he began a reform movement that spread like fire and continues to this day--an evangelical witness of poverty.

In those days, many people were losing faith because, in part, of the wealthy way in which many of the clergy, especially the high ranking clergy, lived. St. Dominic recognized this also, and this is in part why he enjoined the vow of poverty on his friars as well. It is a kind of evangelical asceticism, a closeness to the poor for the sake of the poor's evangelization.

Many, worldly minded people will appreciate Pope Francis' emphasis on the poor. Certainly Christ himself taught what is now called the preferential option for the poor (#57). And this is precisely what our Holy Father is living, showing, and teaching himself. The catch is, again, that this is all ultimately for an evangelical purpose. It is a way of leading people to Christ; it is not a simple humanitarian impulse.

Lest anyone think I am adding my own interpretation on this:

We can walk as much as we want, we can build many things, but if we do not profess Jesus Christ, things go wrong. We may become a charitable NGO, but not the Church, the Bride of the Lord. ... When we do not profess Jesus Christ, we profess the worldliness of the devil, a demonic worldliness. ... When we journey without the Cross, when we build without the Cross, when we profess Christ without the Cross, we are not disciples of the Lord, we are worldly: we may be bishops, priests, cardinals, popes, but not disciples of the Lord. ... My prayer for all of us is that the Holy Spirit, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, our Mother, will grant us this grace: to walk, to build, to profess Jesus Christ crucified. 

These are the Holy Father's own words, in his first papal homily. And they strongly echo the words of St. Paul in his first letter to the church in Corinth:

The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. ... For Jews demand signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are called, Jews and Greeks alike, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. ... When I came to you, brothers, proclaiming the mystery of God, I did not come with sublimity of words or of wisdom. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

Caring for the poor and needy is today, perhaps more than in any other age in human history, generally recognized to be a good, desirable thing. It is certainly common ground we can find with those who are on many other counts opposed to the Church. And that should give us some pause. 

It should give us pause because we cannot risk losing our faith, obscuring it, or minimizing it in order to collaborate with them. It should give us pause when they demand we check our faith at the door. It should give us pause when they try to tell us to whom we can and cannot minister. It should give us pause when they try to define what is and is not acceptable service to the needy. It should give us pause when they refuse to let us collaborate with them because they think they understand what is good for people better than we do. It should also give us pause when many members of our own religious orders become so conformed to the world's model of service to the poor that they become indistinguishable from any other humanitarian agency.

While caring for the poor and needy is a good, it is not an end. As Catholics, as Christians, we know that our end is God. We were made by him and for him. When Christ exhorts us to care for the poor, it is with an eschatological purpose. It is because each person bears the image of God that each person has such great dignity, rich or poor alike. Thus we truly are serving Christ by loving our neighbor. Christ was not just giving us a nice, religious way of saying that we should help the poor. No, he was explaining that it is a metaphysical reality that we are serving him by serving "the least of these"; it is truly, really a way of loving both God and our neighbor by the same action. It is a direct, not an indirect, way to love God, who is our end.

And it is because of this that when we separate our acts of charity from their theological end, treating them as ends in their own right, that "things go wrong" as the Holy Father put it. If we are not, by our care for the poor, professing Christ and him crucified, we are completely missing the point. We are lopsided and wrongheaded. We get confused and potentially lost; "we profess the worldliness of the devil, a demonic worldliness" because seeking an end other than God, no matter how noble in appearance, leads us away from God, turns us in on ourselves, and that is the very way of the devil, who seeks nothing more than to draw us away from God.

Authentic care for the poor demands a lively faith. It is this faith that keeps us well rounded in our care, because poverty is not limited to lack of material things. We can be physically poor--suffering some lack of physical wholeness or wellness. We can be socially poor--lacking friends and companionship. We can be poor in justice--having suffered wrong at the hands of others. We can be poor in freedom--captive, in prison (physically, psychologically, spiritually). We can be morally poor--messing up our lives, the lives of others, and our relationship with God. And most seriously, we can be spiritually poor--living a sterile life devoid of transcendence and relationship with God. 

And this is where I begin to get to the point. :) Some criticize the Church for all of our supposed lavish luxury. They see the grand architecture and amazing artwork, the fine ornamentation and the expensive vestments, and they claim that these riches are contrary to the Gospel and that they show a disdain for the poor. "If the Church really cared about the poor, it would sell all that crap and give it to the poor."

Ignoring the fact that Catholic charities far and away outstrip all global charities, both today and, even more so, throughout our long history, sentiments like these are an example of how "things go wrong." Because these things are themselves a ministry to the poor--especially the spiritually poor. The sole purpose of the Church is to draw us to God, and She uses every means at her disposal to do so--both the splendid riches of our most beautiful cathedrals and elaborate liturgies and the evangelical poverty of St. Francis, St. Dominic, and all those who profess such vows. She uses her intellectual riches to draw people through the mind, and She uses the corporal service to draw others through acts of simple kindness. She uses her supernatural riches of the prayers and merits of cloistered religious and hermits, the graces of the sacraments in every parish throughout the world, and the evangelical vigor of the apostolic orders and, yes, the laity as well. All that the Church is and does is ordered towards bringing people to Christ.

This of course does not mean that every action of every Catholic is so ordered; however, that is how it should be, and that is how the Church as both a supernatural and natural institution is ordered.

Pope Benedict XVI is known for his restoration of our liturgical riches. He taught us by his example that these are good means to enrich the spiritual poverty that has even become spread throughout the members of the Church. But he has also taught that "love for widows and orphans, prisoners, and the sick and needy of every kind, is as essential to her as the ministry of the sacraments and preaching of the Gospel." He on several occasions exhorted people to not waste vacations idly, but to spend them renewing our relationships with God and others, and he showed this in the way he spent his own. He untiringly gave us the riches of his intellectual efforts through books, apostolic letters, homilies, and audiences.

Pope Francis may have a different emphasis, one that focuses more on simplicity in practice and an evangelical poverty, according to his vows. That doesn't mean he is changing the Church, that he'll suddenly start divesting the Church of all material wealth, and it certainly does not mean he will lack a focus on orthodoxy (much less "change the Church's teaching" as if this were something a pope can do!). 

Benedict did not eschew tending to the needs of the poor; his emphasis was on a different kind of poverty, one that the world does not so well perceive. It seems that Francis will emphasize other kinds. We should be reluctant, however, to take comfort that his emphasis is better received by the world lest we be lulled into a spiritual laxity. Perhaps that is why our Holy Father came out so strongly in his first homily emphasizing what he did. The world is not the judge of the Church, what is good for people, nor what is good for a pope to be like or focus on; only God is that judge.

Together our Holy Fathers illustrate the holistic way in which the Church cares for the poor, always keeping in mind, word, and deed "Jesus Christ, and him crucified" but exemplifying it in different ways with different emphases according to their particular talents and callings.

Five Reasons You're Not an Authority on Catholicism

As a convert to Catholicism, I have always found it somewhat disconcerting when any old Joe seems to think that because he was raised Catholic that somehow makes him an authority on Catholicism or, at least, somehow gives him credentials to speak authoritatively on the Faith, or considers his own opinions on par with that of our bishops.

You see it all the time, on TV shows, in the news, in politicians, in parishes, and in the random folk you meet every day. What makes it worse is especially on TV/in the news, when people are interviewed and asked their opinion on X, just because "they are Catholic" and/or "they were raised Catholic." The problem is that so much misinformation gets perpetuated this way, chief among which is the false notion that Catholics are independently free to form their own opinions on matters of faith and morals (and still be considered faithful/in good standing as Catholics), much less that their opinions are equally valid or authoritative as authentically Catholic positions.

So for those people, I offer these five analogies that illustrate why you're not a Catholic authority.

1. Being an American or raised an American doesn't make you an expert on the Constitution, U.S. government in general, U.S. economics, U.S. foreign policy, and so on; you get the picture. Growing up as an American no more makes you an expert on the United States of America than growing up Catholic makes you an expert on the Church nor the Faith.

2. Watching lots of movies does not make you an expert on film or the film industry. You may grow up watching movies. You may have watched hundreds of them in your life. This doesn't mean you know one iota about what it takes to make a movie, how to be an actor, how to be a director, or any of the various other minutiae involved. Nope, watching a ton of movies doesn't make you an expert on film any more than being baptized, confirmed, and going to mass makes you an expert on Catholicism.

3. Working at a large corporation for your whole career does not make you an expert on that organization. You may even be a division or department manager by the end of your career. You may be an expert at your job, you may spend a ton of time with the people in your department and on your teams, but your perspective is of necessity limited. Unless you are the CEO, and probably even then, there will be plenty of aspects about the company that remain hidden from you. And in any case, your expertise and experience is in one area. The Catholic Church has over a billion members spread all over the world; the doctrine of the Catholic faith has been reasoned about and practiced over nearly two thousand years. I guarantee, you can't speak for all of that, no matter how involved you are in your parish, no matter how long you've been Catholic.

4. Being raised among musicians does not make you an authority on music; it doesn't even make you a musician. You may be surrounded by music your whole life; you may attend many musical events with your family, but if you don't apply yourself to learn music, then you are nothing approaching an authority on it. In the same way, you can be around other Catholics your whole life, go to plenty of Catholic events, but if you don't apply yourself to learn the Faith and practice it faithfully, you are nothing like an authority on Catholicism.

5. If you grow up in a house of immigrants who speak a different language and came from a different culture, you are no expert on that language or culture. You may be able to understand it and relate to it; you may even be able to hold up a decent conversation, but if you didn't apply yourself to learn and practice the language and culture, you certainly would be no authority. Just so, growing up in the Church, learning the language of liturgy, and experiencing some aspects of Catholic culture does not make you an authority on it.

In all these cases, to become an authority, there is much more to it than just being raised in or around it, spending lots of time with others in the same organization/culture, attending events, or picking up the language. All of that is great and good in itself--nothing wrong with it, but it just doesn't make you an authority.

To become an authority on the Church, one should study ecclesiology, Church history, and/or canon law. To become an authority on the Faith, one should study one or more of the many specialties in Catholic theology such as dogmatics, moral theology, exegesis, and so on. Even so, it is impossible for one person to be an expert in all these things.

None of this is to say that it is hard to be Catholic nor that one needs to do such things to live a saintly life. In fact, one can easily and rightly be Catholic just by being baptized in the Church. It's just that "being Catholic" or even "being raised Catholic" by no means gives you any credentials to speak authoritatively on any aspect of Catholicism other than your own personal experience.

So I hope the next time you're tempted to say, "well, I was raised Catholic ," just keep this in mind--maybe add a caveat of your own lack of authority. And for the rest of us, too, there are plenty of authoritative resources freely available to learn about Catholicism. Judge what we say by them.  

But keep in mind also that as far as Catholicism is concerned, the authority on interpreting such resources is the Church itself, specifically the bishops in communion with the Pope. It is not the dissenting Vice President, not the dissenting former Speaker of the House, not the dissenting famous comedian, not the dissenting news anchor or talk show host, not the dissenting parishioners, not the dissenting womynpriests, not the dissenting sisters, not even the dissenting priests. You can even be a faithful, cradle Catholic and still not be such an authority. You can even be someone who, like me, has extensively studied the Faith, and still not be such an authority, although our answers may be more reliable in this way. Still, always judge what we say by authoritative texts interpreted the way that the bishops in communion with the Pope interpret them.

And if a Catholic steers you away from our authoritative texts, waves his arms and says they don't really mean what they say, or, most tellingly, suggests that the bishops and Pope are wrong in their "interpretation," those are all pretty good red flags you're on the wrong track to understanding Catholicism. Such a person is about as far away from being an authority on Catholicism as they can get, no matter how long they have been Catholic.

What is Wrong with Catholicism Today

This is everything that's wrong with Catholicism today. People who so fundamentally do not understand the nature of the Church. People who so fundamentally lack faith. People who are so utterly enamored of this world and the opinions of men.

Anyone who judges the state of the Church, or the effectiveness of a papacy, by "the news" reported about it is completely lost.

"Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind." - St. Paul, Letter to the Romans

The problems in the Church are not caused by the people who actually understand, believe, and follow the doctrine of the faith. The problems come from those who don't understand, who don't believe, and who fail to practice it. That is true whether they are clergy or laity.

What laity who put on holier than thou airs towards the clergy seem to fail to realize is that the clergy who fail come from their ranks. None of us is born a priest. We are all born lay. Bad priests were bad laymen first. Those who are the most judgmental, anticlerical laity are themselves faithless laypersons. They don't realize that they are two peas in a pod with faithless priests they so excoriate.

Being a priest doesn't make a faithless person faithful, nor does it make a good person bad. By the same token, being lay doesn't make you inherently more holy or wise or trustworthy than clergy. The popular notion that having more lay government of the Church is the solution to corruption in the Church is demonstrably flawed, even ludicrous. Look around you. Do you see any corruption in civil governments around the world? I thought so.

Priest and lay, what we need in the Church are more people who are more faithful, people who do as St. Paul instructed as quoted above. Here is more of that passage:

I urge you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship. Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect. 

I suggest you read more. It's very pertinent. Faithful priests and faithful laypeople--we are all part of the same body of Christ but with different callings and gifts.

I'll further say, along with St. Paul in his letter to the Galatians, "I am amazed that you are so quickly forsaking the one who called you." You can't just quit the faith. That's not the way it works. If you think you can just take it off for a while and put it back on when you feel the Church better suits you, I have some news for you: you don't have faith. You faithless people--you who wear Catholicism like it's a robe to be taken off and put on again when its convenient, when it appeals to you, when the Church is respected and admired by the world and in the news--you are the problem with the Church.

The good news is that you can help fix it. No, not by railing against the Church and the clergy. Nope. You just need to get to confession. Get on your knees. Humbly repent and ask God to restore your faith. He will, and then you'll be part of the solution instead of part of the problem.

Update 6 Mar 2013: Piers Morgan--another example of what's wrong with the Catholic Church today.

The Great Ash Debate MMXIII

It's a perennially favorite topic for Catholics--to wear the ashes on Ash Wednesday or to not wear. So I figure, why not weigh in?

Simply put, it is an individual choice. People should do what they think is best for themselves.

Personally, I have vacillated over the years. Initially (when I first converted to Episcopalianism and later to Catholicism), I was all gung ho about it. Wear 'em! Show 'em! Coming from an evangelical Protestant background, this whole "external witness" thing resonated for me.

Then I ran across Fr. Philip Neri Powell, O.P's blog. (Yes, he is a fellow Dominican, so I'm biased to agree with him. ;) ) He is our perennial, self-anointed Ash Wednesday Grinch. Just take a look at a search of 'ashes' on his blog to see what I mean. I stole the image above from him; he stole it from Jeff Miller. We're all a bunch of thieves! Gives us one more thing to repent of during this penitential season.

He makes a good point, really. It's kind of hard to argue with the whole Gospel passage. Jesus' words are pretty straightforward. Don't put on a show when you fast.  And yet...

Most recently, I think it was last year maybe, the best reason I could find to justify keeping them on is that it is a sacramental, it is in itself a means of grace. Still, last year I think I went in the evening to Ash Wednesday service, so it was kind of a moot point for me.

This year, I probably won't make it to Ask Wednesday service. Pausing, while I wait for gasps of shock and horror. Maybe it's just laziness. I would have gone with my fam, but we have a few sick kiddos right now, so they're not going. As Fr. Philip Neri pointed out, this isn't an Holy Day of Obligation, so it's okay. I'll take my kids being sick as of late as my reminder that we are mortal.

But even if I did go today, I would wipe them off. I've been won over to the Gospel argument.

Anecdotally, an atheist colleague at work lost no time in commenting on some other Catholic here who was wearing her smudge. He turns to me and says, "but Ambrose, you don't have ashes, and you're like the most fanatical über Catholic of them all. She's upstaging you." He also reminded me how he was raised Catholic and so on..

I do try not to be obnoxious and showy about my faith, but I am unapologetic and forthright about it. I'd happily engage in meaningful, thoughtful conversations with him about it, but that never seems to happen because he seems more interested in ridiculing religious people than engaging with them, a sad commonplace amongst contemporary atheists.

I digress. But a takeaway from his comment is that you don't need ashes on your forehead once a year for people to know you are "fanatical" about your faith.

I don't say this as a matter of pride but rather simply as food for thought. All this focus and teeth gnashing about the ashes is missing the point. People should be able to tell you are Catholic the rest of the year, regardless of what you do on Ash Wednesday. If that's not happening, maybe it's time to reflect on why that's not happening rather than focusing on wearing the ashes.

I'll also point out that in all my time seeing people wearing ashes and wearing them myself, including today--not once have I ever observed a meaningful, thoughtful conversation ensue based on, "why do you have a smudge on your forehead?" It just rarely works like that. Without exception in my observation and experience, you explain briefly, and people are like, "oh, ok.  That's cool/interesting/whatever/mumble."  And that's it. 

I'm not against external religious symbols by any means. I'm not telling you to wear or not wear ashes. You need to decide for yourself.  I just think such external symbols need to be a normal, natural, everyday true and real manifestation of the life of faith that you live. If you want to display your faith in some way, or you are bound to do so because of a rule of life that you live under, by all means, do so. But just don't forget that the Holy Spirit is the mover of our hearts towards God. He will open doors to meaningful conversations about the faith. We just need to be ready and listening.

Big Lies About Religion from Your Atheist Friend (Redux)

Thanks to a (non-atheist) friend on G+ (Thomas Sanjuro), I came across yet another instance of typical atheistic ignorance of religion/religious people yesterday. I suppose that the motivation for this post could be avoided if people wouldn't conflate religion with creationism. The false dichotomy of science and religion is the source of much ignorance and stupidity in the world, both from creationists and atheistic evolutionists, who act as if this one issue determines all that is good and right in the world.

I'm a strongly religious person, a devout Catholic; anyone who questions that has never met me. Yet my wife and I teach our kids about evolution and all the other sciences--in homeschool!  I have a suggestion: Let's stop with the silly, ignorant, half-baked, false notions--hateful caricatures, really--about religion and religious parenting. People have done and do dumb things, mean things, smart things, and nice things in the name of all sorts of ideas, religious and atheistic.  Being a mix of dumb and smart, mean and nice is just part of being human. Neither religion nor atheism has the corner on being human. 

You are lying to yourself if you pretend that, as a parent, you are not inculcating your children with your beliefs and values; it's impossible to do otherwise and be a parent. It is irresponsible to do otherwise.  That you happen to not value religion, as an atheist, does not make it stupid or dumb that a religious person does. You claim "neutrality" in regards to religion--not teaching your children about it and "letting them decide for themselves." Your neutrality is not neutrality at all; it is a positive negative. 

By your own practice and what you teach your children, you are indoctrinating them to think that religion is how you see it is--something ranging from a harmless hobby to the source of all evil in the world (depending on your atheistic sympathies/where you learned it from). You teach them that religion is just some fancy that they can take up and change like a pair of jeans (but of course, no smart person would wear these jeans, according to you). Those are values. Those are beliefs.  So stop pretending that you're not teaching your children your own personal values and beliefs. Stop lying to yourself and treating other human beings (that is, religious parents) like they are stupid and sub-human for doing exactly what you do, only within the bounds of their own belief and value system instead of yours.

The poster also ignorantly asserted that religion has contributed nothing of value to the modern world, asking "What has religion contributed to the modern world?" 

Only people devoid of anything more than their sophomoric history class taught by "coach" who uncritically imbibe New Atheist authors' claims so ignorantly assert that religion has contributed nothing to the modern world but "War. Hatred. Anger. Discrimination. Separation. Ignorance."  Here's a short list off the top of my head, but there have been books written (for instance) that document, substantiate, and elaborate these and others. It is evident historical fact:
- government and laws based on inherent human dignity; the very idea of justice
- the motivation for and eventual realization of abolition of slavery
- the idea and most of the instances of the hospital
- the idea and most of the instances of humanitarian work
- the idea of selfless charity and a bagillion concrete instances of that which happen in boring, everyday life
- the idea of treating another person as you would treat yourself, and acting accordingly
- the development of science as a discipline and the desire to make the world a better place through it

- the ethical restraining of science

...

Can you have a lot of these without religion?  Theoretically it is possible, but chances are that we wouldn't have "evolved" to them without it. It isn't by chance that civilization and religion grew up together, hand in hand. Historically, these things in the West developed out of religious, mostly Christian roots. That we can now, from our vantage point in time and in a culture that is based on these religious foundations, come up with theoretical frameworks devoid of religion (secular humanism) to rationalize how we already are inculturated to think and feel is no evidence that we would have ever gotten here without religion. 

On the contrary, humans tend to be remarkably brutish to each other by nature, as is well documented by history. One shudders to think where we'd be were it not for the civilizing influence of religion; we are bad enough with it at times, although we got a glimpse into what it'd be like in the 20th century thanks to the triumph of atheistic philosophies in some states.

Certainly, undoubtedly, and absolutely no scientific theory would give us any of these things that are, far more than scientific advances, essential for human flourishing and which give human life so much beauty and meaning. I love science; I love that it does contribute to our well being, our comfort, even our intellectual advancement as a whole, but science doesn't give us humanism, much less humanitarianism. It doesn't give us justice or government by laws. It absolutely doesn't give us charity. And it doesn't give us the whole story about life, the universe, and everything.

The blind worshipper of Science--the one who inflates Science as the answer to all human needs, progress, and future--is no better than the ignorant religious bumpkin. They have both chosen to see with only one eye open.

Appropriate Times for Blessing

In this third installment on the highly controversial should-we-bless-children-in-the-communion-line series :), I address a key sticking point for objectors to the practice, namely, that it is inopportune, that there are more appropriate times for such a blessing.

First, I want to dispense with a few misconceptions:

1. Receiving a blessing in the communion line is inherently disruptive. - It is true that it can be disruptive, and it can be so due to the priest or deacon's actions or the recipient/family's actions. It could also be disruptive for people who think it shouldn't happen and start getting all anxious about it. But it doesn't have to be and in most cases it isn't. If it is disruptive, that should be addressed, but it is neither inherent nor the norm in practice. As with all good things, abuses should be curtailed when they occur.
2. Desiring to receive a blessing in the communion line is a matter of impatience. - This seems more a rhetorical red herring than a real objection because obviously no one who attends mass would mind waiting a few minutes more for the general closing blessing--they will almost certainly be there at that point anyways.
3. Desiring to receive a blessing in the communion line is a matter of sentimentality or an expression of entitlement. I've already addressed this ad nauseum; read the other two posts (starting here) and the comments on them. I admit that for some parents this may be true, but as far as I and my family are concerned, it does not apply, so it cannot be used as an argument against the practice. Again, abuses and misunderstandings should be corrected, but we should consider a thing in itself rather than in its abuses.

So, on to the point at hand. Put simply, as Br. Bob said, the objection is that "the communion line is for communion."

I suppose there are a few ways to respond to this. One way is by considering other things that have a main/primary purpose but are also well suited for secondary things. Take marriage. The primary goods are the mystical union of man and wife and the procreation and raising of children. There are many other goods, to be sure, and these are not excluded by the primary goods. It seems then that a good criterion here would be that the secondary goods do not inherently detract from or negate the primary good. Considered accordingly, it is clear that sacerdotal blessings in the communion line do not inherently detract from nor do they negate the primary good of those receiving communion.

Things can be designed for one purpose but well used for another. Daily experience confirms this in innumerable ways. A truck bed is designed to haul things, but it can be well used to sit in and have a meal together, or sleep in. A wrench is best for applying torque to bolts and nuts, but it can be used as a hammer when one isn't available. A school gym is used best for sports, but it can be used as a place to gather, even for religious services.  The list could go on and on. That something is designed for one thing is not an argument that it cannot be used for other things. In itself, it isn't even an argument that it shouldn't be used for other things--for that, having a criterion as suggested in the last paragraph would be more appropriate.

Another way to respond is to consider the reason why one should not receive communion. Certainly, we can all agree that if you are disposed to receive, you should. Likewise, hopefully, we can all agree that if you are not disposed to receive, you shouldn't. And the reason for this is not because we don't personally deserve to receive--none of us deserves to receive Him on our own merits, and we say as much ("Lord, I am not worthy...", Domine, non sum dignus). The reason is that we are not in the right disposition to receive that Insurpassable Blessing. For us to then, at that time, receive a lesser blessing in its place--according to our disposition--seems to be a good. 

Saying this does not equate the lesser blessing with the Greater One; indeed, we are presuming by the very nature of the Eucharist that if one can receive it, one should, precisely because it surpasses all others. The only reason you would not receive is that you are prevented due to your disposition, not because you desire the lesser blessing more--that would be absurd.

Seen in this way, such a lesser blessing is not only not not appropriate, it is positively appropriate to the disposition of these individuals.

Objectors have elaborated on this objection, suggesting that if such a sacerdotal blessing is so important, why don't I just seek it out on my own time (i.e., outside of the context of the mass). To me, this seems fallacious on a few counts. First, it seems to be moving the goalposts--because they have been unable to find unassailable grounds to deny non-communicants a lesser blessing in the communion line, they change the context of the argument entirely. It's no longer about whether or not it's good to do so in that context, the question is totally changed: "Why don't you get blessed at other times?" To the point at hand, it's kind of irrelevant--no one is saying that we can't get blessed at other times/in other contexts. What we are talking about is whether or not we should do it in the context of the communion line.

It also seems fallacious in that it is too open-ended. Suggest a context, and I can tell you why or why not I would do so. While father is showering? No. While he's sleeping? Eating? Etc.? There are a host of contexts in which it would seem far more inappropriate to seek a blessing than in the communion line. After mass?  Maybe, but Father is busy greeting the whole congregation as they exit, usually. It would be more disruptive and rude, potentially, to interrupt that, because people are typically in far more of a hurry then than they are in the communion line; not to mention, it isn't generally expected--again more inopportune than in the communion line. Wait until after that (an extra 15-20 minutes)? Well, you try doing that with five young children after they've already more (or often less) patiently made it through mass. Surely, I could corner Father at any time and ask for a special blessing, and at times I have (e.g., to ask him to bless an object), but as I said, this is beside the point. No one is suggesting that we can't do this. 

And consider it from his perspective. In the communion line, his focus is there; he has allocated that time already for the purpose of doling out blessings. He and others expect for folks to make their way, one-by-one, up to him, wait for the blessing, receive it, and move on. It is quite solemn and orderly, and that is not changed by these blessings. It makes little difference in terms of time or effort to give The Blessing (the Sacrament) or a lesser blessing. In short, it is more opportune for him, too.

So if the objection about appropriateness is based on whether some other time would work out better for everyone involved, the answer seems to be that no, another time would not. This is the time of blessing. That it is primarily for The Blessing does not inherently mean it cannot be a time also for lesser blessings. (And most pastors seem to agree, in my experience...)

This last point is salient because it speaks to a positive reason why these lesser blessings should be conferred in the communion line--because it is already an ordered time of blessing. It is a time already set apart for it. It makes sense that this time would be used. 

It actually reinforces that this is a special time for children, especially, because they don't just sit distractedly (as is their wont) in the pew or wander distractedly up, waiting for you to do your thing, and wander back. (And as an aside, I guarantee that if it were common practice to leave children alone in pews, there would be far more disruptions than taking them up for blessings with you.) No, rather, having them come up for a blessing actually reinforces in their minds that this is a special time, it is a time when they need to focus and receive what the priest can offer them (that which they are disposed to receive). It trains them from an early age that this part of the liturgy is special and they need to try harder than usual to pay attention.

And this in no way diminishes from their ability to notice and understand that their parents are receiving something different. In fact, it creates a contrast in their minds, because they are more aware of what's going on than if they were just tagging along. They see what their parents receive, and they see what they receive, and it is different, which stimulates in their mind the question why this is so, providing an opportunity for parents to reinforce the reality, the uniqueness of the Sacrament.

So it seems to me that the objection about appropriateness comes from a rather unnecessary and potentially undesirable limiting of the use of this sacred time of conferral and reception of blessing. It seems, on the other hand, that there are many good reasons to bless non-communicants in the communion line, and only a literalist, legalistic reason not to. 

At the end of the day, it's not my judgment in this that matters, however. If I were a parishioner at Fr. Sticha's parish, I would treat him as a treasure. His heart is, in my estimation, in the right place. There have been plenty of liturgical abuses these last many years. There is certainly an unhealthy feel-good and entitlement culture that needs to be addressed. There is surely a lot of residual confusion and lack of knowledge among the laity due to poor catechesis and lack of strong pastoral leadership. Father wants to address these things, and I commend him for it. I only wish to argue that this particular practice of blessing children in the communion line is not the right line in the sand and further that it is not even really a bad practice nor are parents (or other non-communicants) who want it necessarily misguided. It could be a great opportunity for catechesis in the Sacrament, in fact, without withholding the lesser blessing.

If Father Sticha in his pastoral judgment disagrees, then that is his right, until and if his bishop or some other competent ecclesiastical authority tells us otherwise. I am just thankful that in this one respect my pastors have chosen to give our children such blessings (and that they gave me such blessings when I presented myself for them before joining the Church and, at times, after).

Update (13 April 2012): I was just made aware of this letter on the subject from the CDWDS. As Fr. McNamara points out, the letter is not binding, but it gives interesting insight into the congregation's current thinking on the matter--they are inclined towards not approving such blessings.

Also, another blogger, Deacon Kandra, mentions a letter from a friend who remembers such blessings pre-Vatican II. The point being that this is not a new practice that is part of the "Spirit of Vatican II" as it has been lumped in with by many critics. I mentioned somewhere that my children also receive a blessing at the Extraordinary Form we go to semi-regularly--these are priests obviously mindful of liturgical correctness.

It will be interesting to watch how the situation develops. If it is being studied by the CDWDS, we may yet see some ruling. Probably it would be to the effect that they leave it to the bishops/bishops' conferences to make a ruling, as they have with other similar things pertaining to the reception of communion.

More On Why Children Should Be Blessed in the Communion Line

Predictably, Father Z comes down on the side of strict adherence to the letter of the law in the question of blessing of children at communion time. It's worth pointing out that the main thing he highlights is the "feel good" aspect. No surprise there--he considers himself a literalist liturgical watchdog and enemy of any contemporary culture seeping into the liturgy. And Father Z is not above judging the Pope in matters of liturgy, either.

But interestingly--and worshippers of the letter of the law should take note here--he says not that the case is closed but that "we could use more and intelligent conversation about this wide-spread practice." Indeed. Unfortunately, that's not what Fr. Sticha's post seems to be stimulating. Rather, my devout Catholic buddies seem to be focusing on Fr. Sticha's indictment of the feel good and entitlement culture (something I generally could agree on), buying into that characterization as the sole reason for blessing children at that time.

However, as I pointed out in my last post, this is an ungenerous simplification and, as I see it, an injustice to parents. Furthermore, it does violence to the nature of sacerdotal blessing (as being just something that gives us warm fuzzies instead of real blessing/grace). I also offered evidence of 1) a bishops conference supporting it and 2) the Holy Father himself doing it.

All these counterpoints are being ignored as folks, I must observe, self-righteously clap each other on the back, acknowledging their greater liturgical enlightenment over we silly wishy-washy parents who are foolish enough to desire a special priestly blessing for our children, the same children who, it must again be noted, are refused the Sacrament in the Latin rite for several years as a discipline (i.e., not an irreformable/infallible dogma). As I said before, in our rite we are withholding that greater good, so offering the lesser good of a priestly blessing in its place seems a good thing (and many priests and even bishops seem to agree--and to hastily generalize and characterize them all as disobedient or unorthodox would be an injustice).

The sole commenter on my post, sadly, took a simplistic and side-stepping approach, saying, "The communion line is for reception of Holy Communion." Really? I didn't know that. Sigh. Excuse me while I dismiss that dismissal of my arguments.

I apologize if I'm a little grouchy on this, but it does hit close to home. What's more, I see more religious pride at play in how Fr. Sticha's post is being received than real consideration of the pros and cons (again, because the main arguments seem to be based more against the perceived "feel good"/entitlement motivations). Anyone who reads my stuff can readily see I'm not one to go with the flow and base my opinions on what feels good, so I submit that, as Fr. Z suggests, we have "more and intelligent conversation about this widespread practice," instead of just patting ourselves on the backs.

Let me offer one more consideration in favor of the practice:

Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples rebuked them, but Jesus said, “Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” 

After he placed his hands on them, he went away. (Matt 19:13-15)

I wonder if some of the reasons the disciples rebuked them are not the same as those rebuking parents/priests who bless today. But priests are in persona Christi, especially at mass, especially at communion. Maybe it is good and right to wait for children to mature before they partake, but that does not mean they should be entirely turned away. Instead, let priests act truly in the person of Christ, in imitation of him, and place their hands on the children and bless them.

Update (later 10 April 2012): Addressing the particular objection of appropriateness.

Please Give My Kids Their Spiritual Vitamins

As I was getting out of the truck with the groceries today, I came across Fr. Cory Sticha's blog on "Why I refuse to bless children at Communion." My immediate response, as posted on his G+ share of this blog was, "Bah humbug!" I thought maybe I should elaborate. :) Keeping in mind this is just the opinion of a layman who is willing to submit his judgment to the Church...

First off, my response comes from being a parent of five young children, and specifically my desire for them to receive as many blessings as possible. We've moved about the country a bit in our time (Tulsa, OK to Tampa, FL to central NJ), and within those places, we've moved locally such that we were situated near different parishes, not to mention traveling a fair bit and visiting other parishes. I mention that just to say that we've observed a fair variety of local customs in the US, and my impression (not by any means scientific) is that it was more common than not for our children to receive a blessing. It was common enough such that when we visit places that do not, my wife doesn't fail to comment on it (in a not praiseworthy manner).

Frankly, prior to reading Fr. Sticha's post, I had assumed that it was indeed normal practice, perhaps even sanctioned by the USCCB, and a non-controversial issue. I mean, I have considered whether or not EMs should do it, and I even suggested to our pastor at a parish where they did that perhaps they should not. He agreed and that was that. But it was never so much a question of whether or not it should be done at all. So I have to say I was a bit surprised in reading his post.

I have to say, maybe it's my non-denominational Protestant upbringing, but it seems to me that sometimes we Catholics can truly be overly fond of our strictures and rigors. I mean, I actually really like formal liturgy and structure--think it's important and indispensable--but I have felt on more than one occasion that some folks take it too far, dare I say Pharisaically (in the stricter meaning as one who really does do everything by the letter to a T).

Fr. Sticha cites Sacrosantcum Concilium (SC) 22 as, it seems, his primary motivation for not giving the blessing.  In my reading up more on this topic, I came across a series in Zenit's long-running liturgical Q&A on the subject of Blessings for Non-Communicants. In the second follow up, Fr. McNamara addresses that particular objection, noting, "Since much liturgical law is grounded in custom, canonists generally admit that, according to canons 23-28, some ecclesial communities have the capacity to introduce customs that either interpret the law, or fill a vacuum or silence regarding the law." In short, it seems the issue is certainly not as cut and dry as a simple reading of SC 22 might give the impression to be. (It should be noted that Fr. McNamara's personal opinion is also one of reticence towards this particular custom, but he is trying to be fair and provide both sides.)

Not only this, but the British bishops' conference have actually encouraged the practice, saying, "to receive a 'blessing' at the moment of Communion emphasizes that a deep spiritual communion is possible even when we do not share together the Sacrament of the Body and blood of Christ." And Fr. McNamara alludes to other bishops here and there who either encourage the custom or do it themselves. Further, it would seem that even the Holy Father approves the custom--at least for Catholic children--as he himself gave such a blessing publicly, as mentioned in this response on Catholic Exchange.

Fr. Sticha suggests that doing this is "disobedient" to SC. Well, I guess these bishops and the Holy Father (usually a very strict and traditional liturgist) are disobedient, or maybe Fr. Sticha's strict interpretation of SC might need to be re-examined.

Next, Fr. Sticha tears us parents a new one, saying that we parents ask for it because of our entitlement culture, because it makes our kids feel special and warm and fuzzy (or rather, us), lumping in blessing of children with every other conceivable liturgical abuse in the last thirty years. He goes so far as to say he despises blessing children in this way. (Now maybe you understand my response of "bah humbug," eh?)

Wow. This is over the top. First off, this is presuming a lot. It presumes the worst possible motivations for us parents to have in this case. I would expect more generosity on a pastoral issue like this. Even if the less-well-catechized parishioners don't articulate it well, I think it stems from a good parental motivation. I can say that I, too, am a critic of the entitlement culture. Not only that, I am rather traditional in my liturgical leanings. But I don't call myself a traditionalist or "traditional Catholic" (or "trad" or "traddie").

That's because one thing that I don't see as a good in traditional circles, but that is fairly prevalent, is this legalist/rigorist/scrupulous mentality that does not accord with Scripture. Think about it, every time someone comes down on the side of strict adherence to traditions/laws, God shows them up--with Christ and the Pharisees, with St. Paul's breaking down the walls for the Gentiles, with God revealing to St. Peter himself on the rooftop, with the enumeration of the fruit of the Spirit. I'm not one for abuses or transgressing in "the Spirit of VII" by any means, but there is another, equally dangerous extreme to be avoided here. There's a reason that we have a good few supposed traditionalist groups who are either in formal schism or bordering on it--they think they're more Catholic than the Church.

The fact that people (not just Fr. Cory to be fair--he is in some good company) are nitpicking giving a blessing to children is to any outsider pretty unbelievable; it is scroogery. Forget about "feeling good"--in our eagerness to combat excesses of the feel good culture, have we lost sight of charity and generosity?  Do we truly imagine God to be so stingy with his grace and blessings so that he would object to sending his blessing upon children who do not yet communicate? (Or other non-communicants for that matter?) It seems to me to be something of a scandal that this is a controversial issue, even a minor one, in the Church.

As I understand it, in the Eastern churches, communion is given to children when they are baptized (and they are confirmed)--all three sacraments of initiation. They allow their children the great boon of the Body and Blood at such early ages, but we are supposed to deny our children even a blessing?  The Eastern churches are even more protective of communion as a sign of unity than we are, yet they allow it to their children. We withhold the Sacrament from our children so as to better prepare them to understand and partake, not to create some jealous desire for it. There is little justification to withhold a lesser blessing when we are already withholding a greater one.

This is not about "feeling good" or warm and fuzzy; it's about real grace, a real grace that can be received through the blessing of those with Holy Orders. To suggest that such blessings are only about feeling good actually does violence to the faculty of Holy Orders.

Do I want my children to "get something" out of this?  You bet. This is a Good Thing. I want my children to have every exposure to God's grace that I can give them, every blessing. To suggest that this is a bad motivation for parents does violence to the whole concept of parenthood--which is all about seeking the Good for your children.

Again, I say it is scandalous (and I don't choose that term lightly) for priests to make much ado about this and withhold blessings from children. They are preventing parents from obtaining such a good for their children, and it's especially outrageous and inappropriate to do so on grounds of some perceived culture war. If parents don't understand the real value of such blessings, it's an opportunity to further educate them, a teaching moment. That would be a better pastoral response than to deny the good to all based on that potential misconception.

A commenter on Fr. Sticha's post suggests that the final blessing is somehow sufficient, i.e., children don't need a special blessing because they get the general one at the end. Again, this speaks to me of a certain stinginess with God's grace. If we believe that God imparts real grace through the blessings of ordained ministers, you'd think those ministers would be going crazy, blessing every chance they get. I think I would, anyways. Why are we even talking about what is sufficient? God is more than sufficient. He is infinite; we can never exhaust the riches of his grace, so why are we being stingy about it?

Now there is a decent objection in what Fr. McNamara and what I think was at the heart of Abp. Chaput's criticism--the concern that somehow such blessings can come to be seen as an equivalent blessing as partaking. To me, this seems to be rather flimsy grounds to object (a potential conceptual challenge) versus the denial of *real* grace imparted through sacerdotal blessings. And I can speak from personal experience that my daughter is in no way confused on this matter, even though she received many such blessings prior to her first communion. Everyone, even our separated brethren, understand that we think that the Body and Blood are extremely special and that's precisely why we are protective of it. The fact that we offer a different blessing is in fact evidence that it is not the same--otherwise we wouldn't need to offer it.

I encourage all priests and deacons, please, do not be stingy with this grace. Teach parents and children that this is a means of grace for the children, that it is (as one of my priests likes to call it) "spiritual vitamins" (a spiritual communion), and if necessary, correct them if they speak of it as an entitlement or confuse it with the good of receiving the Body and Blood.

Update (10 April 2012): In response to how Fr. Sticha's post has been received, I offer this further response.

Update (later 10 April 2012): Addressing the particular objection of appropriateness.

Evangelical Shouldn't Be a Qualifier

A Christian cannot know the Scriptures and not be evangelical.

Agree?

Slaves of the Zeitgeist

A friend of mine posted this diagram that tries to map named political groupings with their respective views on what goods/services that government should provide.

What I find fascinating is that what would be considered very conservative today was considered to be liberal ("classical liberalism") back in the early days of the US. This comes at an interesting time for me because I've been listening to a book called Sarum, which is a long historical fiction that traces a history of Sarum in England from hunter-gatherer up to very recent. One of the threads you see, especially starting in the High Middle Ages, is the recurring theme of the rights of the common man.

The author does a pretty good job of showing the conflicts throughout the succeeding periods between the conservative and liberal viewpoints, and I don't know if it's intentional or not, but it also illustrates that what is liberal in one age becomes assumed/commonplace/even conservative in another. In each age you see people who are dyed in the wool conservatives and those who are seen as liberals/radicals.

It's curious to me because I think it's worth asking ourselves if we shouldn't keep this in mind when forming our own views on things. The dialog in the US is often framed as conservatives want to go back to the way things were/as intended by the founding fathers. It's a sort of primitivism, often underpinned by a quite romanticized view of the way things were.

Even within my parents' own generation, there is sometimes a sense that the 50s were some kind of golden age in America, but as Frau Dr. Ross (my German professor in college) pointed out once--things were not so peachy keen back then if you were, say, black or a woman. The recent movie "The Help" really drives this home--I strongly recommend it for that reason.

Similarly, we often romanticize the times of the founding fathers, but things were not peachy keen then, either. It's not an unfair criticism to point out that many of them, including Jefferson, were slave holders. No doubt most contemporary women would be scandalized by their views on women. I'm not suggesting we anachronistically judge them as morally inferior; in fact, quite the opposite--the reason people have different views on these things today is often not due to individual moral consideration/superiority but rather that we are inescapably products of our ages. These guys were the radicals, the liberals of their age and made their ideals into reality in large part--very admirable.

What I am thinking, though, is that we probably should avoid a romantic primitivism when forming our ideas on what society and government should look like today. We're in quite a different context. A lot has changed. No doubt some of this is for the better and some for the worse. Development of social ideas as related to government is called for as society changes, and so I think it's rather naive to hold to a classical liberal view (now "paleo-conservative" according to the diagram above). Or to even go further back to something akin to feudalism (voluntarism/libertarianism). Things change for a reason, often for good reasons.

Another interesting consideration I picked up from Sarum is that in Queen Elizabeth I's reign, almost 500 years ago, even then they saw that relying purely on private and church charity was insufficient to help the poor. This was in a time when people in society, as a rule, grew up with a strong Christian ethic (unlike today in the US) and when the church was actually supported/intertwined with the state. In other words, before her time they had what many conservatives today advocate for--getting the government out of helping the poor--but it just wasn't working then, so why should it work now? I mention this because while in theory I am inclined towards taking care of the poor without relying on the government, I've often wondered if it would be feasible, especially today in our me-me-me society that lacks the strong pro-poor Christian ethic. And this historical anecdote is evidence that it probably wouldn't.

It seems to me that we, especially Christians--especially Catholic Christians--need to rethink how we frame our views about government. I would suggest again (as have others) that it is inappropriate as a faithful Christian to align with the Democrat or Republican parties. We need to keep in mind that a Christian worldview cannot be contained within any political party--because the Christian worldview by its very nature transcends temporal concerns, but even more so because with our basic two choices (ignoring fringe parties), each party has positions that diverge widely from the honest Christian view.

Furthermore, we should keep in mind that the designations of conservative and liberal are not good or bad in themselves, and that they are not only time dependent, in terms of whether or not they align with Christian views, but they are also issue-dependent, which has to be contextualized by time and culture. We should not go along as mindless drones, slaves to our zeitgeist, so that we become blind to the good in those we see as Them and oblivious to the evil in those we see as Us.

Our discernment of what is the right on any given issue must not be whether it is held by the group labeled with Conservative or Liberal, Right or Left, Republican or Democrat--we must resist the politicians and pundits' simplistic categories (in politics or even within Catholicism). Our discernment must be based on whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is charitable, whatever is full of grace. We should ally with those in whatever group or party that aligns with that discernment, without being subsumed into or becoming subservient to those groups.

Above all, let us not forget our calling to conform our own lives to Christ, that we are but sojourners here, pilgrims and citizens of heaven, and so to act in joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, gentleness, and above all charity towards our fellow wayfarers.

In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world. (Jn 16:33)

Building Family at Church

An interesting discussion came up today on Google+, spurred by an article discussing the problem with parish life. I got engaged in the convo, just sharing my own challenges as you can see.

After noting my lack of connection at Catholic parishes (and we've moved a fair amount since becoming Catholic in 2001), Jeff Stevens suggested that my problem is that I don't give enough of my time to my parish, that I'm not "involved" enough, suggesting his own activities like Knights of Columbus, sending your kids to school, and being a lector.

Jeff is not, to his credit, the first to make this suggestion to me. But the thing is, this wasn't true at the Protestant churches I attended, both as a kid and young adult. They managed to foster a sense of close friendship, even family, without asking to be paid for it.  I just don't buy the "you get what you put into it" thing. That's not how families work. Families are families whether or not everybody does the same amount of work for the family.  Friends are friends because they meet, get along, share common interests, and spend time enjoying those interests together.

Do friends do things for each other? Yes! Do families? Most assuredly. But they do those things because they are friends and family, not in order to become friends and family. The friendship and familial bonds come first. Telling people that they need to essentially pay (with their time and energy) in order to somehow earn this sense of friendship--even of family--is just backwards.

I'm not saying I know what the problems are, but I suspect it does have something to do with the difference in the way church is seen between Protestants and Catholics. It may just hinge on the *obligation* factor and, secondarily, the sacramental factor--going to mass is seen as dispensing an obligation (to varying degrees) and to get the graces of the Sacrament.  Both of these are good in themselves, of course, but for Protestants, the main purpose of coming together is exactly that--coming together, being in community, building fellowship, learning from each other.

Some Protestants are very "involved" and do a lot; others just "attend," but there is a real relationship that is built between church members regardless of their relative levels of contribution.

School?
Then you have a lot of Catholics who mainly are showing up at all because of the school--this seems to be the majority in my experience. I've gone to different mass times at my churches, and I tell you, I don't recognize most of the adults showing up at religious ed while we're waiting outside.  But they recognize each other--not because they're giving a ton to the church but because they see each other at school activities.

We homeschool, so this isn't an option for us, but beyond that, the parish life should not be centered around the school--it should be centered around the community coming to worship God together through the Eucharist. In doing this, we participate in the very communal, familial love of the Trinity.

Reading?
I am a reader (lector) and have been at basically every parish for most of my time as a Catholic. (I was one at my Episcopal church as well.) I have been an extraordinary minister of the Eucharist at several. This, too, has not resulted in a great sense of family/community for me. Yes, I have gotten to know the priests, deacons, and servers a little. But it's a ministry, not a social.

Knights?
Then Catholics have all these special interest groups: Knights of Columbus (KofC), Legion of Mary, etc. In themselves, they're fine and good, but what if those special interests don't appeal to you? Let's take KofC. First off, it's men only, so right there, the biggest part of my life is cut out--my family.  When I went (to two different parishes, trying to plug in with them), they seemed more concerned with fundraising than building any kind of community. In fact, one parish's council was so full of internecine conflict (arguing about who was contributing/involved sufficiently, ironically enough) that I was disgusted and gave up on that group. (I realize plenty of men find KofC fulfilling, and they do a lot of good fundraising--it just didn't connect for me.)

So where have I found something like the faith community I was used to as a Protestant? In the Lay Dominicans.  We pray before mass together, we go to mass together, we meet afterward, have cake and coffee, and study together. It's great; it's definitely the closest thing I've found to the Protestant families I had.  I really think of them as family, and we tend to act that way, not because we perform services to each other but because we prioritize community--it is a pillar of the Order.

The Solution?
What is the solution for Catholic parishes then? The author mentions meals. I think that could help, but honestly, I don't know. We do have social activities at parishes. I think it is the "stranger" syndrome--there are lots of contributing factors. Catholicism's view of "church" is different from many Protestants'. We're global by nature and structure. Many Protestants are much more local/congregational.

The author also mentions the numerous mass times, which are helpful to fulfill the obligation but contribute to not being with the same folks as regularly. The "megachurch" factor is also an issue--you can only really feel/be close to so many people (this is also true of Protestant megachurches, which I attended for some time). We are the ultimate megachurch, but even at the parochial level, there are often a ton of parishioners, but we don't need to know everybody at the parish. Maybe just everybody at our mass time?

I have actually had one parish family experience as a Catholic. When I was attending a parish administered by the FSSP. Most of us went to the same mass time. It was a smallish group--that probably helped. We were also all unusually interested in the faith (to attend a TLM parish, we had to be :) ). We saw basically the same people every week. The pastor knew us and seemed to take a personal interest. And we weren't even that "involved." I'm not sure if it can be replicated under "normal" parish circumstances.

One of the commenters on the G+ thread said the pastor sets the tone. I tend to agree with that. Maybe it's as simple as our pastors prioritizing Community as a pillar of parish life. Start with the weekly mass goers. Teach about community. Teach about how gathering at mass is more than an obligation. Suggest coming to a regular mass time (for those who don't already).

Have simple coffee/sweet social time after each mass. Encourage people to share that time. Give it a theme--maybe time to discuss the readings/homily with each other, organize icebreaker activities (people just pick a table and do them). I'm just tossing out some ideas off the top of my head. Keep it simple. Brainstorm. Have fun together. The point is, if it is a heartfelt pastoral priority, that enthusiasm will likely spread.

If nothing else, for me, it's nice to know I'm not the only one who has felt this way. :)

Anonymity Means No Accountability

I am trying to be generous and believe that people who say that they want to remain anonymous online because they have "no desire of notoriety or recognition."  I really am. The same topic came up when people started joining Google+ recently, and some folks I am connected with were rubbed the wrong way by Google's insistence on "real names." The loophole for those folks was to just make a more believable pseudonym. :-/

My main objection to this, especially in this online world, is that anonymity means no accountability. You can publicly attack others and impugn their character, orthodoxy, whatever. You can do real damage to them. You can misrepresent truth (intentionally or not), such as Catholic doctrine. You can mislead others as to your identity (and by that, I mean more than just name). You can be a total misanthrope, be hateful, spiteful, and mean. All without any personal accountability.

How unjust is it for anonymous bloggers to tell bishops, for instance, that the bishops need to "stand up for the faith" and "have some backbone," when they don't even have the backbone to identify themselves? How much more when they make sweeping statements impugning the orthodoxy and charity of vast swaths of our bishops today?

When I'm feeling generous (especially with some of these folks I consider friends), I want to believe the stated good intentions. But when I'm feeling less so, it's hard to swallow, especially when I see examples of such vitriol from anonymous bloggers--because it's just too convenient to be anonymous online. You have nothing on the line, no accountability.

So for all those--especially purportedly Catholic (although who could verify it?)--online personalities who proclaim humility in anonymity (or whatever other personal concerns you have), I urge you to search your heart again. Is there any hint of fear that you could be held to account for what you write?  Even if there's not--especially if there is not--you should reconsider because the potential evil and harm to others (through malice or inculpable error) far outweighs the potential danger to yourself, your humility or privacy. Is it not, in fact, an act of charity to do so? To take risk to yourself out of concern for others?  I think our Lord would say so--"no greater love has a man than that he lay down his life for another."

If you can't take that risk and accountability, I'd humbly suggest that perhaps it would be better to not blog, comment, tweet--whatever--online at all.

Disclaimer

As a lay Dominican, I am a member of a venerable, 800-year-old Catholic religious order known as the Order of Preachers. This membership indicates a calling, a vocation to live my life according to the Rule of the Lay Fraternities of St. Dominic and in doing so promote accountability for my solemn promise to live that way: to study, to pray, to contemplate--in community--and share what I can with the world. They do not indicate that I speak in an official capacity, either for the Order or for the Church, nor are they any kind of guarantee that what I say is without error.

What I share on this blog and elsewhere is my personal take on all this stuff. If any of it is right or true, it's only because I happen to be correctly representing the truth; if any of it is not, it's because I am imperfect and only see the truth dimly. All I can guarantee is that I do my best to represent what is good and right and true, and hopefully my being a lay Dominican helps me to do that more often than not.

In SPND,

Mr. Ambrose Little, O.P.

(Br. Albertus Magnus, in the Order)

P.S. If you're interested in learning more about being a lay Dominican, check out our province's Web site.

Defending the Indefensible?

Prologue

This post has been long in coming but has just been delayed cuz I've been too busy. I told Bertrand I'd respond in due time; it's a good thing that can mean basically anything. :)

You see, few months ago, Bertrand Le Roy posted his thoughts on a post I wrote about four years ago that very briefly dealt with the Inquisition (which really is properly called inquisitions as they came and went over a period of several hundred years in different places, but I'll stick with the standard singular for convention's sake). Now, please bear with me because I intend not to get into debating the finer points of the inquisitions; I just need to set up the context for this post.

Apparently, Bertrand didn't read even the rather short article I referenced, by historian Thomas F. Madden, much less consult the book I referred to, but he seems to have just grasped onto the summation I gave, which without the context provided by my references is hard to come to terms with. In fact, although I can't recall my thoughts at the time exactly, I tend to think I was being a bit controversial intentionally to tease people to read the references or, at least, explore the subject more thoroughly than accepting the popular mythos about it.

Since it spawned such a heartfelt response by Bertrand, though, I feel he deserves a thorough response. So prepare yourself for some slow reading!

Chapter I

First of all, let me quote the referenced article by Professor Madden:

When most people think of the Inquisition today what they are really thinking of is the Spanish Inquisition. No, not even that is correct. They are thinking of the myth of the Spanish Inquisition. Amazingly, before 1530 the Spanish Inquisition was widely hailed as the best run, most humane court in Europe. There are actually records of convicts in Spain purposely blaspheming so that they could be transferred to the prisons of the Spanish Inquisition.

Now I've read more than the average person about the Inquisition. But having been trained as an historian (that's what my Bachelor's degree is in, and I graduated summa cum laude), I would by no means call myself a historian of the Inquisition. I've barely scratched the surface, and frankly, using the professional study of history, one could spend a career researching and writing on the topic.

And yet, I do think I've spent more time trying to delve into the reality of the historical situation than most have; plus, my studies in school focused in large part on the high and late medieval period, so I rely on that to further contextualize my understanding of the subject--it's why I can read what I have and think, yeah, that sounds about right for the thinking of the period, and feel relatively confident in the conclusions of these other historians who actually have studied the topic professionally.

As a trained historian, I'm also cognizant of the bias introduced both by earlier Protestant and Enlightenment writers who are largely responsible for the myth as well as that of the Catholic historians who possibly are too indulgent and forgiving while, in my opinion, rightly trying to balance and correct the myth.

On to Bertrand's comments.. I'll cite three paragraphs that I think sum up his position.

No, really, you shouldn't defend Inquisition and pretend it was a benevolent organization. Please, be an adult and recognize when something you or an organization you belong to screwed up. It will elevate you, whereas the defensive position brings you down to the level of the guilty.

I cannot think of a single reason why one would unconditionally support the worst that religion has done and still does today. There are plenty of religious people who embrace humanism as something fully compatible with their faith, and who are not embarrassed to recognize evil when they see it.

Instead of apologizing for the indefensible, you should be the first to forcefully reject the parts of your own religion that are archaic, barbaric and evil. That should only reinforce the core of it, which I understand is supposed to be love.

First off, let me say I appreciate that Bertrand, unlike the militant atheists in the Dawkins and Hitchens crowd, seems to recognize there is goodness in religion, even if it only extends in as much as religious people share his humanistic values. It is good in debate to seek common ground!

Let me say unequivocally that the Catholic faith is a humanistic faith in that we see all of creation as inherently good because it comes from God whom we believe to be infinitely good. One need not go far to see reiterated pronouncements by bishops on the dignity of human life and its inviolability these days in the face of what the Venerable John Paul II termed "the culture of death" that does what Bertrand accuses "three great monotheistic religions" of doing: separating humanity into two categories--those who have full human rights and those who don't ("sub-human").

For The Big Three, Bertrand claims that we use heresy or apostasy as the condition upon which human rights are predicated. I won't speak for Judaism or Islam, but I will say this is not true for Christianity, nor has it ever been--even in the inquisitions.

To judge that a person is deserving of punishment is a matter of justice, not a determination that they are sub-human or lacking in human dignity. The very fact that the accused in the inquisitions were tried--that the inquisitions themselves were courts of justice--bespeaks an implicit recognition of the dignity of the accused and their right to a trial (keep in mind the inquisitions began pre-Magna Carta), a trial that tries, even with imperfect means, to determine truth and mete out justice. Even if you disagree with the premise that religious belief is a matter for public judgment (and the corresponding execution of sentences based on that judgment), it remains that this is not a question of denying human dignity but rather of what is a matter for public judgment.

Furthermore, punishing people, even with capital punishment, is also not a matter of denying human dignity but of determining that the individual has harmed human society and poses so great a threat for ongoing harm to society that their natural right to life must be forfeit in order to serve justice (for the harm done society) and to protect the society going forward from more harm. I happen to be an advocate against capital punishment, but I recognize the rationale behind it and think in certain circumstances it can be acceptable. But the validity of capital punishment as a means of justice is also another debate.

In any case, to suggest this sort of thorough judicial procedure that underpinned the inquisitions is an a priori denial of human dignity is simply wrong.

Take, on the other hand, our contemporaries. I would say that it is rather they in the culture of death who use arbitrary measures to determine if a life bears human dignity, if is "worth living" and thus worth protecting. They use arbitrary and unverifiable criteria based on conjecture--not established judicial procedure by a qualified judge--to determine if a life has human dignity. They use unverifiable conjecture on the perception of pain, self-consciousness, viability, too much pain, ability to be cared for, etc. to determine without due process that a human person does not bear the human dignity that calls for protection.

I don't know where Bertrand stands on life issues, but Catholics certainly are at the forefront in defending human life and human dignity, from conception to natural death. This stems from our belief that creation is good because it comes from God and, more specifically, that human life is good because we are made in the image of God and are called to a special participation in Divine life, a sharing in the love of the Trinity.

For humanists to pretend that belief in the dignity of the human person is an invention of the so-called Enlightenment is just preposterous. At the very foundation of the Christian religion lies a sublime recognition of the dignity of human persons, a dignity so great that God, in his infinite goodness, deigned to make it in his own image and then took on that human nature to more fully bring it into communion with his own being. It's not for nothing that we call the Gospel the Good News!

Chapter II

Which leads me to the second contention of Bertrand's...

I hold the opinion that this is in large part caused by the fact that this organization believes itself to be holy and infallible.

After very tenuously comparing the Inquisition to the Vichy government and then looping in the contemporary specter of the child abuse crisis (after all, what critique of the Church today would be complete without that?), he really gets to the heart of the matter. How can an organization that does things like the Inquisition and abuses children dare to call itself holy and infallible??

The gauntlet is thrown. The evidence is in. It's clear that it is patently moronic to claim such a thing given the indisputable (and self-documented, I might add) wrongs done by "the Church." How can one even begin to defend such a clearly indefensible position?

The answer lies in a not-too-fine theological point. I say that to preclude pretense at dismissing what I'm about to say as theological finery because, trust me, this is pretty straightforward compared to theological finery. When the Church says that it is holy and infallible, it is not without qualification, that is, not without a requisite understanding of what the Church is and how we understand it to be such.

There are multiple dimensions to the reality of the Church. Book upon book upon book has been written about this, so forgive me for my necessary simplification.

The Church is the mystical body of Christ, with Jesus as its head, made up of:

1. the communion of the faithful living today



2. the communion of the faithful departed who are being purified (popularly known as "in purgatory")



3. the communion of the faithful departed who are purified and participating fully (as fully as humanly possible) in the Divine communion of persons known as the Trinity (popularly known as "in heaven")

When speaking of the Church as the corporation of its members, the Church is holy and infallible only in as much as the Church's members are conformed to their head--Jesus Christ. Those living today and in purgatory are being sanctified (made holy) through the grace of God. Those in heaven have been sanctified.

The holiness of individuals living today is not complete nor guaranteed--we must cooperate with the grace of God, and our holiness is not our own doing but a gift of God that we receive and cooperate in effecting. Therefore, speaking of the Church as a corporation of such individuals, it's obvious that it is not possible to speak unqualifiedly about the Church's holiness. Even without the ample objective evidence we have of our imperfection, you can see that our understanding of our nature as living, faithful humans informs us that we are imperfectly holy.

Similarly, infallibility is not an unqualified quality of the Church. No individual possesses it unqualifiedly before "getting to heaven," and we only are infallible in heaven because we see God, who is Truth in essence, face-to-face (what we call "the beatific vision"). So even in heaven, infallibility is not a matter of some arbitrary definition of truth, as is popularly conceived, but simply a seeing and recognition of the Truth that is.

The infallibility granted to the Church on earth is essentially the same--it is a seeing and recognition of the Truth that already is, not a creation of truth. On earth, we see the Truth only partially, and the truth that the Church proclaims infallibly is only what the Church believes it has received from God. The conditions for an infallible definition are actually quite rigorous, and the Church is in practice quite reluctant to define things in such a way.

Papal infallibility is also a gift granted under special circumstances (more on that here). It is never arbitrary (i.e., a whim or personal opinion of the pope) but is a way to formally recognize a truth that is implicit in Divine Revelation. We only have two instances where theologians agree this gift has been exercised, and there have been only twenty-one ecumenical councils (the other way things are definitively proclaimed infallibly) in two millennia.

I say all this about infallibility not so much to dig deep into the subject but rather to impress that it is actually quite unusual for it to be actively exercised and that is not possessed by individuals (bishops nor popes) in an unqualified way nor as a tool for them to shove their opinions down others throats. That's not to say that Catholics are only bound to consent and obedience for infallibly defined dogmas, but that's another discussion.

The important thing here is to realize the very qualified and rare way that definitive, active infallibility is exercised in the Church and, as noted, only there have been only two known infallible definitions by a pope. So there is no burden on the faithful Catholic to defend every proclamation of a bishop or even the pope as if it were infallible.

Especially in matters of discipline (e.g., how ecclesiastical trials are exercised), there is no guarantee of infallibility, so it is entirely unnecessary to defend, for instance, the decision of a pope to authorize torture as a tool in the inquisitions. That, I would argue, is a purely human decision by a human conditioned by his culture and time, and I wouldn't defend it beyond defending any such historical fact or personage--that perhaps in that time and culture it was understandable. Would it have been better had torture not been authorized? Almost certainly, but it would be anachronistic of me to suggest that he should have known better. Surprise! Even popes can be wrong!

Chapter III

So why the heck am I bothering to defend the Church in regards to the inquisition or any other controversial matter? Because too often the facts get severely distorted and generalizations are made that really do strike at the deeper realities of the Church and, worse, endanger others' faith.

When I defend the Church in regards to the Inquisition, the Crusades, the priestly abuse crisis, etc., it is in no way to defend the evil and abuses perpetrated by individuals--even bishops and popes. The fact that popes and bishops and priests are imperfect does not endanger my faith because I have a right understanding of the holiness and infallibility of the Church. Personally, I am of the conviction that we should recognize and address the serious failings of priests (and bishops and popes), both past and present.

In each controversial situation, there was real wrong, real evil, real suffering caused by members (even leaders) in the Church. THAT is the scandal; that is what we can all agree to decry. While priests and bishops are admittedly "just human," they are called to live a holiness of life that is exemplary to others, and Christian Scripture says that they will be judged more harshly precisely because they are expected to be Christian models and have at their disposal the graces to realize their calling. It is right to expect them to live exemplary lives, and because of this, it is just as right to be more offended when they don't, as compared to other members of human society. (That's why my stomach turns when the defense is made that "there are so many other child abusers out there, why not talk about them??" It's because priests should be better--they're supposed to be examples to us all!)

But to recognize and address the real evils perpetrated does not require one to condemn the whole. Abusus non tollit usum--the abuse of a thing does not nullify the proper use of it. In the case of the inquisitions, as an institution set up in a culture where heresy was a capital offense, where there was little to no regulation of means of interrogation, and where presumption of innocence was not par for the course, it was good (even juridically advanced for the time) to have competent judges who had strict regulations on the methods of interrogation they could use, who had (for their time) very enlightened understanding of ulterior motives of witnesses, who had a deep grounding in theology and Catholic doctrine and could rightly discern real heresy, and who were enjoined to presume innocence and do everything they could to convert and correct a person (rather than, as in the myth, gleefully handing them over to punishment).

Torture, specifically, was recognized as an extremely imperfect means of learning the truth, despite its being authorized. It was not authorized in the beginning, and once it was, as I understand it, the guidelines were to use it rarely, much like we understand the current situation for the U.S.. I'm not defending torture; I'm just pointing out that for those on the front lines in protecting the society, the Inquisition was in its inception as "enlightened" as the policy makers today. Even after all this time and "enlightenment," there are supposedly enlightened people today who still defend it in some circumstances. I am not one of them, nor would I defend it in the case of the Inquisition except to point out what I have pointed out.

Would it have been better for the Church of the time to refuse to cooperate and pressure for a change in societal structure? Maybe. In fact there have always been Christians calling for social reform, even if not always the hierarchy. But if the Church had refused to participate as it did, it seems to me that far worse would have happened. The Church has to work within societal structures that exist, even while working for a more just society in the future. Let's not forget that the goal of a good inquisitor was to establish innocence and bring the guilty back to the Church, even in opposition to the local authorities (who were more than once hostile to the imposition of the inquisition as a regulating "meddling" force in their affairs). This is quite different from the picture painted by comparing it to the Vichy government--just going through the motions to achieve the ends of the state.

And there is something to be said for the fact that the Church at the time was made up of humans at the time who were conditioned by their cultures just like we are. Our culture can either help or hurt our ability to see the truth clearly, and it can certainly hamper our freedom to act on it. In this sense, yes, I agree that from my distant vantage point, it seems like the Church could have done more and advocated against the state more for religious freedom. That the leaders of the time did not fully see or act on what I think is a richer understanding of religious freedom is unfortunate, but from a historical perspective, it is understandable.

In Summary

To sum up, I agree that what is truly wrong and evil--even when done by leaders of the Church--should be decried and not defended. What I defend against is not such real evil but rather the exaggerations, extrapolations, and outright lies brought to bear against the Church, using these lamentable, real evils as a basis.

Do I therefore risk being seen as "defensive" as Bertrand put it? Do I even risk being thought to defend the indefensible, bringing me "down to the level of the guilty"? Obviously! As is evidenced by Bertrand's musings. But for me those are risks worth taking in the love and service of truth, the Church (that holy and infallible Divine institution, rightly understood), and those who might be led astray by those same distortions of truth to their own harm and detriment.

Pax vobiscum!

-ambrose