Is this a crisis?
Since some commentators on the recently revealed scandals have reached the meta- stage of asking whether this is a crisis, or the largest crisis, I thought I would add my 2 cents.
Crisis is an old word with various connotations. I think two examples are helpful here.
In John 16:11, Jesus says that the Holy Spirit, when He comes, will convict the world in regard to judgment–krisis–because the ruler of this world has been condemned.
This seems applicable here, because, as St. Paul wrote, our battle is not with flesh and blood but with principalities and powers. Our bishops are asking us to apply to this situation the methods that Jesus said drive out the worst of demons: prayer and fasting.
Seeing our enemy as the evil one also gives us some distance from and traction against the problem. My brother is not my enemy, but insofar as he is giving the enemy a foothold, I do not have to cooperate with his efforts. I don’t have to try to find a “bridge” to “common ground” with the wrong he espouses. What I have to try to find is a way of helping my brother out of error so we can both flee the enemy.
Another connotation of crisis is its long medical usage as a point in a serious disease at which things either become much better, or much worse. Thankfully the patient, the Church, cannot be destroyed. And interestingly enough, her ailments are not new. Those currently afflicting US Catholicism are only now coming to light, but they are not new.
For me, the news of the last few weeks has been, besides horrifying, an explanation. I would guess that I am not alone in having had the sense for a number of years now that something was wrong. Perhaps it’s the sort of ailment that you might hardly notice until it gets really bad, because the descent is so gradual.
One problem that I’ve noticed is an apparent satisfaction with mediocrity in all aspects of Church life, from art (our particular concern here), to theology, to religious education. If it weren’t for our considerable care for the poor and sick, I don’t know if the Church would have many signs of vigor.
In fact, a lot of ecclesial institutions seem aimed towards an entrenchment of mediocrity. The Church Music Association was nearly destroyed at one point decades ago by someone who deliberately tried to make it mediocre from the inside. This does not make sense. Of course there is a perennial tension between charism and administration in the Church, and not every half-baked idea is worth implementing. But there are really great ideas and a lot of apostolic energy that could be used to spread the Gospel.
Instead, what seems to have happened over and over again is that the worst ideas are ascendant. Heterodoxy flourishes in Church-affiliated institutions. This does not make any sense. It’s the institutional equivalent of self-harm.
What I’m hoping, then, is that we are at a crisis point regarding whatever tedious disease it was that was continually dragging us down. From what has been said lately, I think it has to be at least possible that the toxin has been persistent, unrepented mortal sin among some of the men who make decisions for the Church. The concomitant loss of the theological virtue of charity would seem compatible with the sort of dreariness of purpose that has seemed to swamp the institutions. Hopefully this means that once the toxin is removed, we’ll remember what flourishing is, stretch our limbs and run for joy to God. Because in the hierarchical structures of the Church, there is no substitute for the episcopacy.
Again, this is a perennial struggle. Jesus said that if you sweep one demon away you might get him back with seven companions who are even worse. The Church is always being reformed and will never be able to set aside its vigilant attitude of self-reformation, always beginning with personal repentance. Charity begins at home.
St. Peter Damian on the Assumption
Just like the morning’s dawning bright
She rises to the heav’nly height,
Maria, splendid as the sun,
Just like the moon, most lovely one.
Today, the queen of all the earth—
Who to that Son has given birth
Who is, before the daystar shone—
Ascends unto her glorious throne.
Assumed above the angels, higher
Than every heav’nly angel choir
This single woman has outrun
The merits all the saints have won.
The One Whom in her lap she fed
And laid within a manger bed.
She sees as Lord of everything,
Now in His Father’s glory, King.
Virgin of virgins, intercede,
And with your Son with fervor plead.
He took up what is ours through you.
May what is His come through you, too.
Praise to the Father and the Son
And Paraclete, forever one,
Who in the saints’ and angels’ sight
Have clothed you in Their glorious light.
From the depths I cry
A note on the current scandal
I feel that there are important distinctions to be made in light of recent scandalous revelations in American Catholicism.
What we are dealing with here is not something like a sad failure to always keep ordination promises.
It’s not a struggle with the baptismal vows or universal call to holiness.
It’s not even willful duplicity of life.
What has been going on is deliberate predatory behavior of someone in a position of power, in situations that should be especially governed by God. The rebellion appears to be complete: Find someone whose fidelity to God has brought him to a place of extreme vulnerability to you, who has to trust and obey you as a young son trusts his father–and destroy him.
Seminarians are indeed vulnerable. A man gives up a great deal simply by crossing the seminary door. They should not have to decide whether to choose between following God Who calls them to the priesthood, or following God Who calls them to be holy.
Of course navigating ambiguous situations is part of any religious formation, but this is an exponentially more difficult test than should ever be required. Putting seminarians in such a position is not a “failure.” There is an element of impiety that must be addressed.
Martyr Dei, 9th Century Office Hymn
God’s martyr, who the course has run
behind the Father’s only Son,
O victor, conqu’ring all your foes,
who now the joys of heaven knows,
O favor us with gifts of prayer
To cleanse us from the faults we bear
Ward evil off, that plague of strife;
Repel all tedium from life.
Your frame is freed from chains at last;
now loose the chains that hold us fast,
the bonds to worldliness undone
by love of God’s beloved Son.
To Son and Father honor be,
and Holy Spirit, One and Three,
who ring you with a lasting crown
in halls of glorious renown.
Trans. c. 2013 Kathleen Pluth
The First Step in Ecclesiastical Reform: Turn the Altars Around
Last night I enjoyed that heady sense of being on stage in front of a large, captive audience, aware of my presence and focused on my every word and gesture.
I was at Mass, leading the singing.
I’ve been in this position many times before, and over the decades I have tried to learn how to pray through it, because it is a huge distraction for me at Mass. What distracts me most is my concern that I should not distract anyone else. This leads to a secondary concern, whether I am acting prayerful or truly praying. I suppose anyone in this type of position has experienced these questions.
As a singer, the easiest fix is simply not to be in front of the congregation–not facing anyone. Stay in the loft behind, or at the far end of the nave. That is much easier because my role as a singer is to be heard, not seen.
The role of the priest is exponentially more complex. He cannot hide. His role is inherently, and in some regards primarily, visible, leading the congregation through the veil, into the Holy of Holies. We follow him, as he expresses in the highest possible way his conformity to Jesus, our advocate before the Father.
For centuries the symbolism of our “following” the priest was clear. However, in the postconciliar period, and without a direct referrent in the Council’s documents themselves, the character of the priest’s relationship to the people has been visibly distorted by the versus populum posture.
When people face each other, they aim to please. They make eye contact; they smile encouragingly. There is a word for such gestures: flattery. People flatter their priests and their priests flatter them, at an average ratio of, say, 500 to 1.
None of this is encouraged in the Council documents. The versus populum posture is specifically worldly. It sets up the priest, not as a model to follow, but as a talk show host to be flattered insofar as he delights us. There are no good reasons for this.
The lines of sight to God should be made clear in the Liturgy (see Pseudo-Dionysius’ Ecclesiastical Hierarchy for a beautiful exposition of how this should work), but instead our path towards God is obscured by the distracting cycle of eye-contact and feedback.
The Sunday liturgy is for everyone their primary and for many their only contact with the Church. As such, its symbols should express the truth, including the truth about ecclesial relationships, which should not be a matter of flattery but of service.
The Psalmist sings, “Let your priests be clothed with holiness/ The faithful shall ring out their joy.” Ad orientem posture lets priests be priests and the people be themselves too, all facing God together.