Chant Café

Yesterday I found myself at a local megachurch for a convention that was being held there. As a music lover and an introvert, I studiously tried to avoid two things: the astonishingly loud and repetitive praise and worship music, and small-group discussions.

There was an older man sitting not far from me during a breakout talk, and I didn’t want him to think I was dismissing him by avoiding the discussions, so as the session ended I said hello. Turns out this was his home church, and since I am Catholic, he wanted to know two things: what books he could read on contemplative prayer, and how to pray the rosary.

He made it clear that he did not want to become Catholic but said they don’t hear anything about contemplative prayer at his church, and wanted to know more about it. I told him about a lot of different authors from the Catholic mystical tradition. He settled on St. Teresa of Avila, and asked if there were a Catholic bookstore in the area where he could buy her books and a rosary. I gave a brief tutorial on the rosary, and we talked about asking for Mary’s and the other saints’ intercession, which he used to think idolatrous but now feels it is similar to asking a fellow believer for their prayers. We spoke until his wife called his cell, and said goodbye.

I have often felt that our efforts at Catholic evangelization aim too low. There has to be a “low door” for the unchurched seeker to enter, and thankfully we have good programs for that. But that simply cannot be where we stay. We have a journey to make, and that journey is serious and demanding, unchartable and rich beyond measure.  We are all called to the mystical life. (A good book to read on this point is Fr. Thomas Dubay’s Fire Within.)

I learned a few things from the megachurch. They had excellent coffee and cookies. Their church members are dedicated to service, to the point of meeting very basic needs such as keeping restroom supplies stocked. Attention to these practical details makes for a very warm welcome. The music, while problematic on many levels, was very well produced. Our liturgical music, on the other hand, is often played and sung without a “reality check” such as a recording. Organists and singers in Catholic churches definitely benefit from hearing their own sound, correcting and polishing.

However, we as Catholics have much more important things to teach than to learn–if we haven’t forgotten them. And it sometimes seems as though we have forgotten. In some parishes, preaching rarely changes, and rarely has much content beyond the vaguely therapeutic message that God overcomes fear. This is inadequate. In a world hungry for spirituality, we offer a very weak tea, instead of the riches within our grasp and online for free: the Fathers, the Councils, the Rhineland mystics, the liturgical riches of the ancient hymns, St. Catherine and St. Therese, the lives of the saints, and ever so much more.

This morning, on the Feast of the Presentation, one of the giants of our mystical memory passed into eternal life. Fr. Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD, co-translated and annotated the Collected Works of both St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. Fr. Kavanaugh labored to make the writings of these Mystical Doctors accessible, in all their richness, in flowing English of the present day. Here is an example from St. John’s Spiritual Canticle.

My Beloved, the mountains,
and lonely wooded valleys,
strange islands,
and resounding rivers,
the whistling of love-stirring breezes,

the tranquil night
at the time of the rising dawn,
silent music,
sounding solitude,
the supper that refreshes, and deepens love.

May Fr. Kavanaugh, and all who guide others along the paths of contemplative prayer, be blessed themselves with the beatific vision, and union with God. May he rest in peace.

Worth a read: Catholic author, National Book Award winner, Laetare Medal recipient Walker Percy’s novel on life.

There’s a story about the Council of Ephesus that I doubt is true. What they say is that the assembled bishops were preparing to call the Mother of God “Christotokos,” and an angry mob of Ephesian laity heard about it and stormed the assembly, and the frightened bishops declared the Blessed Virgin to be Theotokos instead.

Another story has to do with the 2nd Council of Lyons, to which St. Thomas Aquinas was traveling, carrying his treatise On the Errors of the Greeks , when he died. The Greek bishops were required to sing the Creed with a triple filioque, thus restoring unity between East and West–a unity that did not last.

The days of schism, if we are not very careful, are upon us. The question at hand is the perennial one: to whom does this Church belong? If we are not to be clericalist, or Gallican, or neo-Protestants, I think we have to be careful how we answer that question.

There was a time, in the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s, when to differentiate themselves from more lukewarm institutions with Catholic heritages, young fervent institutions would announce that they were “faithful to the magisterium.” This was a statement of two things: continuity with the Holy Spirit’s revelation through the Church’s life and teaching, and trust in the Holy Father and the bishops of the Church. Renegade theologians and pagan religious were wreaking a great deal of havoc, but the teaching of the Church remained true to itself and to Jesus, as the Holy Spirit reminded us of all He had told us.

Where, one sometimes wonders, is that magisterium now? Who among the ordinary magisterium is determined to teach the faith in apostolic continuity?

That is one side of the problem, and one of two reasons why some bishops, such as Cardinal Dolan at the moment, are probably feeling like the laity will not give them the benefit of the doubt. The first reason, which continues to go unaddressed, seven months now after the McCarrick scandal became public, is the astonishing unaccountability of bishops for even the most condemnable of crimes. The injustice is absolutely wrenching. The second reason has to do with truth. Where exactly is the magisterium? Are there pastors for whom the care of souls is uppermost in mind? Is perseverance in the perennial teaching a priority for most?

In the absence of apostolic teaching, people will run to those who at least hold the truth. And that is the other side of this very dangerous time: the growing electronic industry that relies on intimidation, “outing,” and scandal for its fame and fortune.

I’m afraid these two parties are at an impasse. Bishops cannot condone scandalmongering. They should not. Faithful, educated Catholics cannot abide predatory shepherds or erroneous teaching. They should not. And so here we are.

It seems to me that the ball is in the bishops’ court. Not about Archbishop McCarrick; the Holy See has reserved that judgment to itself.  But about the rest, there is plenty to do. At this historical moment, bishops can become holy and bold, sheep-concerned, and forgetful of ambition. Many are; for those who are not, this is the hour for true greatness and heroism.

For the Catholic tabloids and those who skirt along the edges of that industry, it is worthwhile to examine one’s conscience frequently. Am I helping or hurting? Will I be happy when the crisis is over?

There is not a “side” in schism that is without fault. The Catholic Church will always hold and teach the truth. But historically, time and time again, things might not have gone so badly if we had acted with better judgment.

 

Recently a number of respectable Catholic sources have lauded the work of René Girard, a philosopher who, turning his attention to Christian revelation, applied his theory of the “scapegoat mechanism” to interpret Scripture and in particular the sacrifice of Jesus.

I find the use of Girard’s theory unsettling and believe it to be dangerous, or even “another Gospel,” in the warning words of St. Paul, and I would like to mention a few reasons for caution.

Girard’s theory

To put Girardian theory in a nutshell for those unacquainted with it, Girard begins with two readily observable facts about society. First, people often copy each other in their desires. A man who has a beautiful watch or wife or house will inspire his neighbor to want the same.

Secondly, society has great tensions, to a great degree based on the clashing of desires. A limited edition watch cannot be owned by everyone, and it is the same with most things. Thus there will be many tensions because people cannot realize their desires. When tensions increase to a certain point, society has to regain its equilibrium, and does so by choosing “scapegoats” which they agree to sacrifice. A scapegoat, as a common enemy, disperses tensions and makes for a kind of peace.

According to Girard, this “scapegoat mechanism” was “unlocked” by the sacrifice of Jesus. By making Himself a scapegoat, though innocent, Jesus showed us the way out of our error of scapegoating. Over time, according to Girard, we are learning to ostracize others less and less, gradually learning to put this teaching of the Gospel into practice.

As a societal commentary I find Girard interesting, though not entirely convincing. For example, it does not seem to me that widespread scapegoating occurs easily except in times of unusual distress or change, such as economic distress or war. This seems to me to be distinct from the sort of gradual increase in unaddressed tensions that Girard describes.

More importantly, when his gaze turns to Scriptural revelation, the Girardian lens is inadequate for many reasons. I will briefly mention three of them.

Problem #1: Mimesis and the transcendental of Goodness

For thinkers in the neoplatonic tradition such as Pseudo Dionysius and Thomas Aquinas in his treatment of the transcendentals, good things are inherently attractive. That is what is meant by goodness: being that attracts. This goodness is the way that God, ultimate Being or I AM, draws human beings into virtue. We want to be like Him, to have as much being as possible by participating in a goodness that conforms us to His likeness.

For Girard, attraction works in a much more scattered and random manner. Instead of being attracted to things for their inherent beauty, for good that shines through them, we are attracted only by imitating the attraction of others.

Setting aside the problem of infinite regress that the theory of mimetic desire cannot escape–who was the first person to desire, and if he was the first, whom did he imitate?–losing the Dionysian/Thomistic value for the inherently good is to lose the deepest resonance of human longing for God.  Jesus said that He came that we might have life, and have it to the full. When the smoke clears, and nothing matters but life and being–what can a man give in exchange for his very soul?–we want goodness for ourselves and everyone. This goal is only realizable if goodness has an actual, rather than a mimetically manufactured, existence.

Problem #2: Horizontal reduction of Scripture

When Girard reads Scripture, he reduces it to conform to his theory. For example, the story of Cain and Abel as we read it in Genesis is unfathomably rich. It deals with freedom and judgment and mercy, as well as with Girardian themes of envy and violence. But even more so, it deals with human beings in relationship with God. In Girard’s reading of the Cain and Abel story, the interactive God disappears. There is no vertical dimension, no acceptable sacrifice. The unaccepted sacrifice simply means that Cain is a murderer.

While the Scriptures thoroughly examine the Girardian vices, from the selling of Joseph to Saul’s pursuit of David to “let us beset the just one, because he is obnoxious to us,” that is hardly all there is, and furthermore, there is a revelation of acceptable sacrifice. While this revelation is by no means straightforward, sweeping it away is deeply problematic, making the revealed history of Israel no more than a sociological study.

Girard is reductive, and reductive readings of Scripture are dangerous. They tend towards gnosticism, a heresy that Girard approaches in another important way, by proposing a secret Gospel teaching.

Problem #3: Misapplication to moral problems

One of the most popular current uses of Girard’s work is providing a theological framework for approving of immoral behavior. There are two “moments” in this argument. First, for Girard, there are no objectively ordered desires. All desire–see Problem #1 above–is mimetic, according to Girard. All desire leads to societal tension, and thus violence and scapegoating. No desire is for the good in itself.

Secondly, any disapproval, any natural law or moral argument against any behaviors, can be simply attributed to the scapegoating mechanism. Rather than making any meaningful claims about right and wrong, society is merely scapegoating persons for its own purposes of equilibrium.

In contrast, Scripture, most explicitly in Romans chapter 1, again brings the vertical dimension into play regarding immoral actions. In Romans 1, evil happens in a different sequence. The first movement is atheism; the second is immoral action; the third is violence.

The deep healing of worship

Instead of presenting the notion of sacrifice as the source of evil, I believe the Church calls upon us to embrace the notion of sacrifice and live it. Pre-eminently, sacrifice is the death of Jesus on the cross, re-presented daily in every Mass: His kindness is new every morning, so great is His faithfulness. It is the one sacrifice, unlike the repeated sacrifices of the high priests, and all true sacrifices led up to it in foreshadowing, like the rescue of the brothers of Joseph, or participate in it, like the sacrifices brought by the priest and the faithful to the altar in our own days.

For 20 or more of our brothers and sisters in the Philippines this morning, their participation in the cross of Christ was usque ad mortem, a true martyrdom. For countless others, there are hidden sacrifices of longer endurance: the divorced woman who lives like the “true widow” of 1 Timothy 5, unilaterally faithful to her vows, the truly scapegoated Religious who is faithful to his vows and community, the good bishop, the honest businessman, the truthful and fair journalist, the diligent employee.

“Sacrifice” is not a word to be argued away. It is the cost of setting aside the flesh, with its desires, and putting on Christ. Through the celebration of the sacraments, we are raised to a dignity higher than any teaching could make us. It is a body-soul experience of salvation that begins with the acceptance of the Cross. To us who are being saved, it is the power of God.