Thinking of walking away from Catholicism? Hang on…

My latest at Word on Fire:

Recently a friend declared, “I need a break.” He and his wife could not be convinced to look beyond the institutional men and remain focused on Jesus. “Come for Jesus,” I invited them, “Come for Jesus and pray for the Church!” They politely demurred. I still believe they need Jesus, and the church certainly needs them. More than ever, donations (learn more) and general support are needed. They are not looking to join any other Church, but, right now, they do not want to be Catholic.

[…]

Some people find these “breaks” to be incomprehensible and suggest that anyone who purports to understand that the Holy Eucharist is the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ yet can stay away “was never a real Catholic, never had faith.”

Well, that’s not fair, and it’s not a judgment any of us can rightly cast upon another, because faith is a mystery, all of it, and because human beings are only human. The Holy Eucharist is our supersubstantial daily bread; it is our royal food, our nourishment, and we love to feed on it where “sheep may safely graze.” But if the shepherds have so poisoned the fields that the sheep are feeling too sick, too nauseated, too unsafe to feed, then whatever the weaknesses of the lambs, a just God will hold the shepherds accountable.

Christ himself recognized that it is possible for priests to destroy the faith of the people and “woe unto them” when it happens. I imagine he has a bit of mercy for those trapped in that space, so I hope I can have some mercy too.

Some people can only handle as much as they believe they can handle, and it is no easy thing to stand where we are and watch darkness grow where the light is fading. Well, one can always advise them to join classes that offer youth ministry curriculum or Bible studies to be specific. However, the choice lies within themselves to pursue something meaningful or not. It is unsettling and disorienting. Despite the risk of injury, we want to run, get away from the dark, because we can’t bear to stay within it.

But that is what Advent is asking us to do: to stay. To stand a watch in the gloaming as the ever-encroaching darkness draws near, and to ultimately give witness to the victory of light over night.

And so this is what I want to say to my friends who have left, or who are struggling; those who are halfway out the doors, or think they soon will be…

You can read it all here.

Henneberger’s cri de coeur is a scorching rebuke to Catholic bishops

After the Vatican ordered US Bishops to refrain from voting on episcopal correctives to their failures on the sex abuse front (a February bishop’s gathering in Rome will now address it), American bishops left their bi-annual conference with little to show for their time beyond approving a the promotion of the excellent Sister Thea Bowman’s cause for sainthood.

The do-little gathering left plenty of American Catholics feeling short-changed and fed-up, and precipitated Melinda Henneburger’s scorching rebuke to the bishops as she declared herself “done” with the Church. Her piece is a stunningly naked and raw howl of authentic anguish from a woman who feels betrayed beyond endurance.

[USCCB President Cardinal Daniel] DiNardo recounted that it happened this way: “In our weakness,’’ he said in Baltimore, “we fell asleep.” Not so much like Peter in the garden, though. More like Rip Van Winkle, and for a century instead of 20 years.

When and if the bishops do fully rouse themselves, I won’t be in the pews to hear about it.

Read all of it.

Henneberger says she has not been able to bring herself to attend Mass since last June, when revelations concerning former-Cardinal Theodore McCarrick came to light. Having covered the Vatican for the New York Times, Henneberger thought she had a good sense of McCarrick, and so she felt particularly and personally crushed by his sins, and the evidence they gave of the man’s deep betrayal of everything he professed and preached:

After “credible and substantiated” allegations that the now former Cardinal Theodore McCarrick had taken advantage of seminarians, assaulted an altar boy in 1971 and even, because evil knows no shame, abused the first child he had ever baptized, the accused was shipped off to the quiet of a Kansas friary — thanks so much for thinking of us out here on the prairie! — to pray, repent and, so far, stick to his story that he has done nothing wrong.

Far from alone
Yes, that’s one angry woman, and she is far from alone. My email is a daily font of fury being expressed by friends and Catholic media colleagues who declare their faith shaken enough to impact their prayer lives, their attendance at Mass, and even their foundational belief in the Gospel of Christ Jesus. Amid so many lies, cover-ups and assists to evil, they catch themselves wondering, is any of true?

The behavior of our hierarchs and churchmen — our “shepherds” — and their sometimes wholly out-of-touch responses our expressions of pain have driven more sheep than they realize to the point of questioning not just some of their faith, but all of it.

It leaves me praying for many, but wanting to say this: My friends, my dear brothers and sisters in Christ, we need not lose our faith over men who have proved more feckless than faithful.

If regard for our bishops has been deflated, that may not be a bad thing. We were always better off keeping our eyes on Jesus, who is ever steadfast, than in imbuing a character of holiness upon human beings who, with a few exceptions, are destined to disappoint and fail and to shake our trust in our own abilities to discern who is worthy of admiration, and who is not — possibly something that plays a small part in Henneberger’s own despair.

There are many good bishops working earnestly to serve the Gospel and the Church with forthright conviction and servant’s hearts, and they are worth admiring. Others, admittedly seem less so. Before they are anything else (including “princes”) all of them are men in need of salvation, same as the rest of us.

We need to see them as such, and let them know that we do.

I pray that Melinda and the many Catholics who are staying away from Mass will be able to pray it out, and come to realize that, as the psalmist warns, we ought never place our trust in princes (Psalm 146:3).

Because here’s the thing about princes:

  • They are usually so insulated they become out-of-touch to common human realities
  • They are so shielded from accountability as to become thoughtless, selfish, and benumbed
  • They are treated with such deference as to become slavish fools to their privilege
  • The people permit all of that.

It should be different for “Princes of the Church” but it is not, because they are only men and therefore as eager to be liked, as susceptible to the soul-threatening charms of being praised, feted and indulged as anyone else. If some of them strike us as being closer to hell than heaven, it is good to recall that very few bishops, or priests (or monks or nuns for that matter) are “naturally holy”. Some, indeed are good and righteous, but whatever holiness they possess comes not from the office — it is no residual product of their pectoral crosses — but from the working of grace in their souls, unearned yet invited in through prayer, humility, self-effacement, and a shepherd’s instinct to sacrifice for the sake of the sheep.

How we got here, and how to move on
Today we are nauseated and roiled by this never-ending ache of discovery and disgust for three reasons:

    Primo: For decades the bishops shunted aside the Gospels and looked to the world, and to the so-called “experts,” to tell them how to deal with pedophile priests, predator priests, and power-abusing bishops, recidivism be damned.

    You live by the world, you die in the world, the carrions picking away at your bones. Secular advise should never again take precedence over the wisdom of the Gospels. Because we are a freaking church, first, or we are nothing.

    Secondo: For even longer, the laity permitted a deferential clericalism to color what they saw, and heard and accepted as true — even within their own families. Too respectful to challenge, or too fearful of precipitating scandal within the church, we helped things remain hidden.

    We will now have to step up and share in the penance, and then insist on meaningful inclusion in the structuring of reforms as we go forward.

    Terzo: With great humanity of mind and language, we must admit that yes, there is a homosexual element to some of what has been revealed in these awful disclosures, and address it openly, while keeping in mind the number of hard-working priests, faithful and devout, who live with same sex attraction and remain chaste.

    At the very least, that discussion would reinforce the notion that chastity is actually meant for everyone not called to the marriage vocation, including those espoused to Christ and his Bride the Church.

    I hope every bishop in the United States, most particularly those with open lines to the Vatican, read Henneberger’s piece and understand that this is not a single, isolated voice. The number of Catholics who feel as disgusted, betrayed and fed up as she is growing daily as new investigations open up, state-by-state, as new norms and practices are discussed but not acted-upon, as months slip by and Rome continues to crank slowly in an era that demands fast resolutions.

    Advent and the Nativity of Christ are before us, and then all-too quickly Lent will follow. The sacramental and sacred work of credibly communicating God’s consolation and salvation cannot go on if the pews are empty.

    UPDATE: Deacon Greg Kandra shares a story about how the Church is currently seen

    Read more: Vatican, US Bishops face class-action lawsuit from victims of clergy sex abuse

    Image: Public Domain

Advent reading from a deacon, a nun, and a bishop. And more!

Almost every year I try to gather suggested Advent materials or reading selections to share with y’all. Last year, I skipped that in order to write out a daily-read series based on the lectionary, which was both a satisfying and sometimes overwhelming task.

As a Christian, I actually loved taking the time each day to really engage and ponder Advent on deeper and very specific levels.

As a writer, I came to realize that such a series is best undertaken in September, when the season is not yet bearing down on one.

As a reader, I came to better appreciate the value of those little pocket-and-purse sized daily Advent readers and devotionals that publishers release just in time for us to take in hand and use well. This Advent, I am using and recommending The Living Gospel by Deacon Greg Kandra.

I’ve got a copy for my purse and also one on my Kindle, so I can keep this surprising little gem close at hand wherever I happen to be when I am ready to read.

Did I say “surprising little gem”? Yes. For stuff like this:

What Are You Waiting For?

What are you waiting for right now?

Most people would say: I’m waiting for Christmas, the birth od Jesus! I’m waiting for parties and presents, cards and carols. But the gospel reading that begins our Advent season suggests something else. We are waiting for an event that transcends the tinsel and the tree — it even transcends time.

What we are waiting for, really, is the end of time.

Well hows that for a slap-you-awake moment? The Living Gospel is full of these ideas that stop you in your tracks, and make you want to really think things through. I’m hoping to use the devotional with Sr. Theresa Aletheia Noble’s Memento Mori journal, as often as I can, to really deepen my experience of Advent, which is my favorite season, but which so often gets away from me unless I have something really engaging to help me buckle down.

Speaking of engaging Advent reading, but on the lengthier side, I asked a few members of the Word on Fire staff to recommend their favorite Advent material and am now happily looking forward to reading two books that weren’t at all on my radar at all for this season.

The Life of Christ and The World’s First Love: Mary, Mother of God, both by Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen are twin Advent suggestions that show this great evangelist — who reminds us that “If Christmas were just the birthday of a great teacher, like Socrates or Buddha, it would never have split time into two, so that all history before the advent of Christ is called B.C. and all history after, A.D.” — at his teaching best.

“Love burdens itself with the wants and woes and losses and even the wrongs of others.” Sheen says in the Life of Christ, and then, of The World’s First Love he writes: “The mystery of the Incarnation is very simply that of God’s asking a woman freely to give Him a human nature.”

Good heavens, just two lines and there’s a week’s worth of Advent lectio!

Indeed! I’m looking forward to using using these great and instructive tools — from a deacon, a nun and a bishop! — this year.

Check out the Word on Fire recommendations, which take you from St. Athanasius to Benedict, to T.S. Eliot and Merton, to a kid’s book and even a coloring book, here.

Voting in imperfect love, and fear

How are you voting today? I don’t mean to ask who anyone is voting for, or even why. I’m just wondering whether we are voting with an energy of hate, or an energy of love, or if we’re voting out of a hate that feels like love?

Or are we casting our votes in fear?

We know “perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18) But how do we know whether we are heading to the polls in a state of “perfect love”? I’d bet few of us are, because we are so divided, so confounded by the choices before us, that who knows what measure of our actions are driven by real love, or by a hatred we so cling to, and so value, that it feels like love to us? A hate that feels like love is likely rooted in some kind of fear.

Hatred,” says psychologist Robert Enright, “has a long shelf life. Once it enters into the human heart, it’s hard to get it out. It breeds destruction, discouragement, and hopelessness.”

If It Feels Good Do It
Enright hails from the University of Wisconsin, in the so-called “liberal enclave” of Madison, where a few years ago demonstrations by members of public employee unions against the elected governor put some vivid moments of hatred on view. A reporter on a cable news show who covered the story remarked to the anchor that one female protestor, “Was giving me the business yesterday, and [said] she hates me because it makes her feel good.” [Emphasis mine.]

Anyone who has ever been targeted by a pack of bullies understands what the protester meant. Venting hatred, especially under the righteous cover of a “cause,” gives one a sense of belonging and purpose and—quite unlike love—it does so in an expeditious and rather painless way. Mob-supported hatred removes openness from the social equation, and that in turn takes away vulnerability, leaving one with a powerful sense of communal well-being that can serve as a reasonable facsimile of being loved by others. One loves one’s hate because it makes one feel beloved.

On the surface, attaching oneself to a hate-collective seems a safe way to belong. One feels invited to the party; one no longer has to think for oneself, or worry about individual appearances or instincts. To continue to fit-in, to feel as if you were truly loved, all one needs to do is continue to hate—and that not even willingly.

This hate that feels like wide-open love is paradoxically limiting and self-defeating. Once hatred has become one’s social vehicle of choice, the travel options become limited: either stay the course and wear the peripheral blinders or attempt to break free and risk the very real possibility of being altogether ditched.

Regardless of whether one hates a Republican governor or a pro-abortion president or Hollywood or “fundamentalism” or “the system” or even a sports team, if one’s sense of belonging depends on hatred, then second-thoughts will flee and stagnation will follow. The only way to re-energize and to delay the inevitable endgame described by Enright as “destruction, discouragement, and hopelessness” is to find a new hate to love.

In the hate-collective there must always be an Emmanuel Goldstein in order for love to feel fresh and new.

The most insidious part of any hate-collective is how easily one can slip into its influence through the simple error of attaching real but disproportionate feelings of love onto things which are often illusory and ultimately temporary. I love my politics so much that I must hate you for your policies; I love my church so much that I must hate you for not loving it as intensely; I love the promise of my pension plan so much that I must hate you for pointing out that it is unsustainable; I love my opinions so much that I must not allow you to have opinions of your own.

Hatred is a twisting perversion of paradoxes wherein one can claim a love for God so fervent that it justifies hating another, even as God hates your hate, because it has been born of the absolute idol one has made out of one’s professed love.

The Thin Line is Real
A few years ago a university study confirmed the old adage that there is “a thin line between love and hate.” It seems that the same brain circuitry is involved in feeling both emotions, the major difference being that with feelings of love a large part of the of the cerebral cortex shuts down, along with judgment and reasoning abilities. With hate, much of the cortex remains open.

This makes perfect sense, in a way. We can always give a million reasons justifying our hate to others, but our love? Often we cannot explain our love at all, except as an open and full-hearted mystery, just like the unfathomable mysteries of God, redemption and mercy.

This study also helps explain why unreasonable love can so often tumble into hate, and why hatred, once engaged by reason, finds it so difficult to break freely into love.

It is that thin, thin line between love and hate that can so confuse our sensibilities, and thrust us so far apart from each other, and perhaps ourselves.

So, if you are inclined to vote today, go to it (or, if you are disinclined, do not. This is America and one is still free, or should be free, to decline without fear of intimidation or reprisal). But for the sake of your soul, do say a prayer first; ask your Guardian Angel to help you discern whether you are voting out of love, or out of a hate that has begun to feel like love but is really something full of fear.

Vote! But Figure Out Your Fear Factor
Fear is a great Get-Out-The-Vote motivator, and politicians use fear for exactly that reason. In 2012 Joe Biden told a group of African Americans that the GOP ticket “is going to put you back in chains”. In 2018, Donald Trump tells crowds that a migrant caravan out of Central America is secretly filled with Middle Eastern terrorist extremists.

Fear is rarely an aid to good decision-making. People marry the wrong person due to fear of being alone. People abort their children out of fear of all the change a child necessarily brings into one’s life.

I’m not telling anyone how to vote or not vote — by all means let us each vote our conscience as we plan to. I’m just suggesting that after voting it wouldn’t be a bad thing if we, all of us, spent some time (before the exit polls take all of our attention), in doing a little soul-searching about what is behind our votes — fear or imperfect love or genuine hate — and then consider working on ourselves, so that next election our votes won’t feel like they’ve come down to this:

Main Image: Tony Webster, Flickr-cc

Portions of this piece were first published online in 2011.