By SHAUN KENNEY
The Wall Street Journal wrote about the condition of the Catholic Church today, most notably the weakening of faith among those Catholics who consider themselves culturally identified with the Church, but not faithful attendees at Mass. Specifically, the connotation here is that Catholics who were teetering are now tipping away thanks to the scandals plaguing the Church.
In 2002, only 22 percent of all Catholics indicated they were considering leaving the Catholic faith as a result of the sexual abuse scandals. The foxes rushed into the henhouse declaring themselves lord and protector of these lands, and the result? In 2018, the bad memories came rushing back in a flood, with McCarrick having already won the game by installing his men (sic) into positions of power. Today, 37 percent of Catholics are considering leaving the Catholic faith.
Why are they doing so? The answer is simple. If the Catholic bishops don’t believe what they say we should believe, then why should we believe at all? At some point, it stops being a church and starts becoming a racket. One is reminded of an old Morrissey song:
Some men here
They know the full extent of
Your distress
They kneel and pray
And they say
Long may it last!
Why don’t you find out for yourself?
Of course, Morrissey isn’t exactly a paragon of Catholic virtue and excellence, but he does represent a secular fragment that is curious about Catholic culture and the Catholic faith, yet is absolutely intent on picking it apart from the outside.
This sentiment is not isolated. Hypocrisy is one thing, racketeering is quite another. After all, if you’re playing poker and can’t identify who the sucker is, it’s probably you.
And yet. . . .
I will readily admit, I find myself wondering at times. The charge of hypocrisy is an omnipresent one — Catholics are told to strive for X, we all fall short of the glory of God. Yet in this construction exists a certain lie, and it is the reason why we are all somewhat uncomfortable with the way it is mentioned.
Consider ourselves as youth. Pope John Paul II’s charisma wasn’t in the fact that he gave young people a set of rules, nor was it that he told us to surrender to crass spiritualism. To the absolute contrary, St. John Paul II told us to live the Gospel — and to do so fearlessly.
That word — fearlessly — is a word that our postmodern age doesn’t like. We worry constantly about being the sucker, don’t we? We worry all the time about the world taking a mean sort of advantage of our charity. We worry all the time about the intentions of this person, the consequences of this act, what might happen if we take that leap into the dark.
Guess what? That’s what living is all about!
One of the great wisdoms ever passed down from God to mankind was not the teachings of the God the Son, but rather God the Father. When Moses climbed up Mount Sinai, the Father gave Moses two gifts, one more tremendous than the other. The one most of us are familiar with is the Ten Commandments, but it is the burning bush that should capture our hearts and imaginations.
It was there that God the Father told us who He was in the context of all our worries. God didn’t say I WAS. God didn’t say I WILL BE. God told Moses — I AM. Right here, right now, in the present moment. If you want to find God, don’t look where but look when.
When Christ repeats these words at Gethsemane, the instruction is in the face of the Jewish guards who have come to take Christ prisoner. These were not timid men, these guards. Yet when Christ says “I AM” they hesitate, and for good reason. Not only does Christ intimate the Tetragrammaton of YHWH, this is the precise moment where the Passion of our Lord begins in earnest. The guards had a choice; Judas’ betrayal is total; Peter’s backbone will be tested and found wanting.
So there’s the good news. The Church has been in worse straits than she is in today. Even with Christ present, 11 of the 12 bishops abandoned Him, Christ was profaned and blasphemed, and the Church held on by a thread. Three constituent parts remained: a faithful remnant (John), Christ Himself (on the cross), and the Blessed Mother.
Even in the darkest of times, so long as we have even one faithful bishop? The gates of Hell have not prevailed against us. Bishops make priests; priests give us the Eucharist; the Eucharist gives life to the Church.
So cheer up, fellow papists! We are in good company indeed. Summon up our Shakespeare and remember St. Crispin’s Day:
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Again, fearlessness. It is worth noting that both St. Crispin and St. Crispinian were martyred only after the local governor had millstones thrown around their necks in an attempt to drown the twin brothers. This having failed, Diocletian ordered their martyrdom by beheading in AD 286. Given that such a punishment was decreed by Christ for leading little ones astray? Apt to today’s crisis, I think. (Matt. 18:6)
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Godfried Cardinal Danneels passed away last week at the age of 85. Danneels was one of the architects of the self-styled “Velvet Mafia” who both helped conspire to elect Pope Francis and staff the Holy Father with their sort of men (sic).
I am quite fond of the adage that personnel is policy. For those of us who are bewildered and at times maddened by Pope Francis — who in one breath can simultaneously sound like an arch-traditionalist cum Episcopalian — one has to wonder what sort of papacy we would be experiencing if Francis had been allowed to flourish with more able and less politically motivated advisers?
Danneels now goes home to God. Pray for him very much.
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As I am sure you know, a summit of bishops met in Rome to discuss the sexual abuse crisis. What happened, you might ask?
Nothing.
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George Cardinal Pell may very well become the new John Cardinal Fisher at this rate. For those who have not followed the Pell case, the Australian government chose to retry an acquitted man under the darkest of secrecy that included a media blackout. The evidence against Pell is so thin as to be laughable, yet due to the sexual abuse crisis in Australia, a scapegoat was required — and no mere bishop would do.
Once upon a time, Catholics would have been outraged beyond belief. Yet for the first time since the days of Henry VIII — with perhaps, the notable exception of the Soviets and Communist Chinese — a government has dared to lay hands upon a Prince of the Church.
Thus it passes into silence, and with our silence comes consent. The next prelate of the Church to suffer this form of mob persecution will not be from Australia, to be sure. The late Francis Cardinal George of Chicago speculated that he would die in his bed, that his successor would die in prison, and that his successor would die a martyr in the public square. A prophecy, perhaps? God forbid.
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First Teachers encourages readers to submit their thoughts, views, opinions, and insights to the author directly, either via e-mail or by mail. Please send any correspondence to Shaun Kenney c/o First Teachers, 5289 Venable Road, Kents Store, VA 23084 or by e-mail to svk2cr@virginia.edu.
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