Divisions within Catholicism have been a frequent subject here. In contemporary American Catholicism, ideology often trumps Christ, something Pope Benedict himself noted on his visit last spring:
I ask you, in the Lord Jesus, to set aside all division and to work with joy to prepare a way for him, in fidelity to his word and in constant conversion to his will. Above all, I urge you to continue to be a leaven of evangelical hope in American society, striving to bring the light and truth of the Gospel to the task of building an ever more just and free world for generations yet to come.
Those who have hope must live different lives! (cf. Spe Salvi, 2). By your prayers, by the witness of your faith, by the fruitfulness of your charity, may you point the way towards that vast horizon of hope which God is even now opening up to his Church, and indeed to all humanity: the vision of a world reconciled and renewed in Christ Jesus, our Savior. To him be all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.
That is not a call to paper over differences, to pretend that is all is well as we join hands around the campfire. It is not a call to abandon mutual fraternal correction. It is simply, as a first step, to look to Christ and open ourselves to him, together. And to go from there, dependent on the Spirit to bind us together, to reveal the truth to us, and to empower us to bring the Gospel to a world that thirsts and hungers.
What is true is that this unity is indeed not uniformity, as St. Paul notes and as only one who is blind to history can deny. The diversity within the Body of Christ runs deep, and is complex – as complex as life itself.
One sometimes reads, not only in Catholic sources, but non-Catholic sources as well, as sort of wistfulness for the right sort of Catholic. “If only all Catholics were like….I might be more open to it. Too bad the other ones have to be around to ruin it.” Fill in the blank: Mother Angelica. Thomas Merton. King Louis IX. Dorothy Day. Take your pick.
It’s too bad, the implication lurks, that there are those other sort of Catholics who mess up the pretty picture, the perfect embodiment of the Gospel.
It is, indeed, a difficult reality to grasp and live with: the fact that the Body of Christ lives and breathes in the world as it is, not in a world expressive of our own desires and ideals. It is the obstacle that every one of us encounters and must deal with. It is a mystery, but one that when humbly confronted, leads us ultimately to Christ, for we find it is He in whom our faith must rest, not in his poor servants.
As much as we hope to be salt and light ourselves, as much as we would hope to share God’s love with others, would we really want another person’s faith in Christ to depend on our witness?
Then it is not fair to make the lives and works of others, no matter how holy, idols in that way either.
Rome is a good place to run up against this complexity. Of course, if one is aware of history or even aware of what happens in one’s own parish, it is not news. But even if you have avoided the reality before, in Rome, you can’t. For in Rome you walk amid all kinds of Catholics, the right and wrong sort, and you are forced to take a stand.
Most vividly. In Rome, you might stand or kneel within a church built on the home of an ancient martyr. Perhaps the church contains that martyr’s remains and truly bears the martyr’s memory, which has strengthened the faithful in carrying their own crosses for centuries.
But there is a good chance that this same church was built by, expanded by or decorated by a wealthy Cardinal with a mistress or two and some sins for which to atone. The gorgeous art, resonant and powerful in its portrayal of Calvary, might have come from the hands of an artist with little or no faith to speak of, doing what he had to do for the commission. You are walking on paths that were stained by the blood of bishop martyrs and then paved by the edict of bishop rulers. St. Francis walked here in bare feet. Catholic aristocracy were carried above the muck, flattered by clergy as they handed out bread to the poor and paid the dowries of impoverished girls.
What, in that mess, do we reject? What do we accept? What is pure enough for us?
Layer upon layer. Nothing is simple. In this Body of Christ, paradox reigns, inherent at its root – the Body of the Christ, the Anointed of God, descended from eternity, yet broken, yet risen, yet still embodied here.
Ultimately, to sneer at the wrong sort of Catholic leads us to one place.
The mirror.
But mirrors can break. And in the mess of glass shimmering on the floor, perhaps we can find some authentic light at last, and let ourselves be guided by Him alone, accepting the mess, sweeping up what is possible, but recognizing that the mess belongs to all of us, not just the other.
All the wrong sort, waiting to be righted.
The very Son of God, older than the ages, the invisible, the incomprehensible, the incorporeal, the beginning of beginning, the light of light, the fountain of life and immortality, the image of the archetype, the immovable seal, the perfect likeness, the definition and word of the Father: he it is who comes to his own image and takes our nature for the good of our nature, and unites himself to an intelligent soul for the good of my soul, to purify like by like. He takes to himself all that is human, except for sin.
He was conceived by the Virgin Mary, who had been first prepared in soul and body by the Spirit; his coming to birth had to be treated with honour, virginity had to receive new honour. He comes forth as God, in the human nature he has taken, one being, made of two contrary elements, flesh and spirit. Spirit gave divinity, flesh received it.
He who makes rich is made poor; he takes on the poverty of my flesh, that I may gain the riches of his divinity. He who is full is made empty; he is emptied for a brief space of his glory, that I may share in his fullness. What is this wealth of goodness? What is this mystery that surrounds me? I received the likeness of God, but failed to keep it. He takes on my flesh, to bring salvation to the image, immortality to the flesh. He enters into a second union with us, a union far more wonderful than the first.
One of my most memorable moments was watching the setting sun on Tiber Island (beneath the great cross in front of St. Barthomew’s) and realizing:
Nothing human is foreign to this place.
It has seen the greatest human glory and the greatest human corruption and tragedy. The greatest saints and the most horrific sinners.
That is part of the power of really great, historic cities like Rome.
Like the Church, nothing human is foreign.
I ask you, in the Lord Jesus, to set aside all division and to work with joy to prepare a way for him, in fidelity to his word and in constant conversion to his will.
This was the sentence I most remember from that homily.
It was inoperable before it was preached, as those who remember the St. Blog’s commentary on the Mass know.
Many, many Catholics in the U.S. not only don’t want to set aside all division, they want total victory over their opponents. They are literally looking forward to news of their opponents’ deaths. And not a few have seized on comments Cardinal Ratzinger made in an interview five years ago to conclude that the Pope, too, is looking forward to their deaths.
So, Holy Father, if you’re reading this, you might want to ask us again.
Ultimately, to sneer at the wrong sort of Catholic leads us to one place.
The mirror.
That’s very true.
God Bless
A fine post, Amy.
I am reading James M. O’Toole’s fine book, The Faithful, a narrative history of Catholics in America. He quotes Pope Gregory XVI (1831-1846). In 1832 he spoke out against some of the most pernicious American notions such as the “absurd and erroneous maxim, or rather … delirium, that freedom of conscience must be assured and guaranteed to everyone.” He also believed that even worse was “that deadly freedom that cannot be sufficiently feared, the freedom of the press.”
This has been a tough year for Catholics and our diverse political ideas. Being an American is important to me, I voted for Obama, and, more importantly, I am a more than weekly Mass attendee. My church and Pope Gregory’s are the same one. I can’t help but think of Jesus’ parable of the wheat and the tares.
Best,
Jim
P.S. You mentioned Thomas Merton. The 40th anniversary of his death is December 10th. PBS is running a documentary on the 14th. I am sure it will be interesting.
Amen. The wheat and the tares are within us.
What a great, great post. I am on(though currently taking a break from) a message board which has been undergoing this very war for months. In it’s wake are just heaps and heaps of bad feelings-charges of sanctimony and dissent. It hasn’t been pretty, and certainly hasn’t done anyone any good. And it’s so hard once it starts to simply stay out of it–and through trying to defend or admonish in a non-sinful way get sucked into the swirling vortex of the Pride-nado.
(BTW -been really enjoying your Rome posts!!)
Thank you for this true and timely reflection. There is none of us who is beyond the need for conversion. Let us pray for each other that we may have the grace both to see the divisions and to see how the Holy Spirit can overcome them — in ourselves, and in our communities.
Agreed. All those divisive Catholics suck. If only we could get rid of them.
Thanks, Amy, for a wonderful and needed post in divisive times. In the present climate, it is hard to convince people that Catholicism is by its nature both an institutional church and a broad movement of saints and sinners. Some will be saved, and some will be condemned, on the last day. But that is for the Lord himself to judge, not us. I suspect that the criteria for judgment will surprise most of us. We certainly will not be judged by some of the criteria that makes one “pure” and “solid” and “good” according to the blogosphere.
Food for thought. Thank you for sharing, Amy, at what I am sure is a busy time.
The first two paragraphs that you quoted struck me as timely for the beginning of Advent. Prepare the way, and prepare the self.
This is a wonderful, thoughtful post, Amy. Thank you for sharing so much of your Rome experience with us – and for giving us much to reflect upon during this season of preparation.
You capture the essence of Rome – history, complexity, beauty, paradox – so well. Grazie mille.
Of course Catholicism is not monolithic, appealing to only one kind of personality.
As Arturo Vásquez notes, there are Bad Catholics, lots of them, people who don’t agree with or practise the faith. Such has always been true, especially in Latin countries. Contrary to myth, to be orthodox is not to be perfectionistic/judgemental or an historical fantasist about most members of the church. But there’s a difference between that and the protestantised living in (ex-)Protestant countries who think they can bend the church to their will on name-the-issue through protests (ha) and suchlike.
Guide to the civil war in the Roman Church.
In America.
IOW, even with the safeguard of the magisterium, in that communion there are rival churchmanships just like in Anglicanism.
Transcendentally wonderful post.
This is a lovely post.
I do have a concern:
There can often be a problem with the desire to be led by Him (Christ) alone. It’s a lovely concept but in reality, even though Christ reveals Himself to us directly, most of the time we show Christ to each other – we learn to be more like Christ from each other. Our faith does, in fact, depend on each other.
We’re not a horde streaming forth to overtake Christ but more like a bunch of noisy kids knocking into each other because we’re so nearsighted. That we ourselves encourage and even cause some of that myopia doesn’t matter, we still can’t see very well. But every so often, our vision becomes a bit clearer and usually that is because someone has knocked against us, knocked a bit of clarity and sense into us. At times the experience is pleasant – but only at times. Coming to know God better for most of us requires many painful encounters – without such, we would remain wrapped in our own little worlds.
We live in a hyper-sensitive age. We have been taught that even to ask the hard questions is to attack. Yet we must ask hard questions and that’s often means knocking against our neighbours – even knocking hard: “Jim Dick,” how do you reconcile knowing that Obama was the most pro-abortion candidate in history, that, through abortion, we have murdered between 45 and 50 million babies in the past 35 years and that abortion is number 1 on the list of the church’s teachings of absolutely non-negotiables for candidates?
But we often love our neighbours most when we take the risk to ask hard questions. Perhaps what we most fail to do is expect others to show us Christ as well – that it is only in engagement with each other, in depending on each other that we all learn to follow Christ.
Lovely, thoughtful post.
I was in Rome a few weeks ago for the first (please, God, not the last!) time.
You know what struck me? It’s hard to tell where Rome leaves off and Vatican City starts. No long winding roads through the green, grand fields. Just — wow, there it is. Right there not too far from the underwear store.
An invitation to transcendence — down with us in all our mess. Come on in, folks.
Something beautiful there . . . and somehow uniquely Catholic.
Sorry, I don’t think it’s “ALL the wrong sort waiting to be righted”. Rather, some of the wrong sort working to be righted or graced to be able to work to be righted. Some respond to grace, some choose not to. Some choose right, some choose wrong, but there’s no other choice except choosing wrong without all the proper information at your disposal. I think this is relatively rare from a kind and merciful God who has left us a church and a pope and bishops IN UNION WITH HIM for us to look to for teaching – IF WE CHOOSE TO. We can choose to work toward holiness, sanctity and heaven – or not to. Some have chosen and still choose not to and thereby alienate themselves from all that is heavenly. That leaves only one choice of destination for them – the one where hatred, not love, of all things reigns supreme. If I understand your view correctly, I find it a bit sophomoric – but with a lot of good ‘feelings’ to it. I hope I just misunderstood.
Romans 3:23, perhaps?
I’m sorry for Mr. David Deavel. No one even remotely suggested that anyone wanted to “get rid of” divisive Catholics. I think he must be paranoid. Who wouldn’t want others to be healed of their wounds and restored to health, and those who want real DIVISION of the Church for which Christ prayed for unity (“that they be one” as He is with the Father), which is meant to be His mystical body on earth – one body, not in conflict but working together – are pretty sorely in need of healing. Not to call for that healing, not to urge others toward that goal, would be sick.
Ecclesiology like nature abhors a vacuum. The catholic culture in America since the late 60’s took on political discriptions of left & right and applied it to doctrine which has no left or right; only orthodox or heretical.
I think as more bishops & priests take up the challenge of disciplining their flocks on issues like abortion, you will have less sheep feeling the need to correct other sheep in the fold or voice their complaints to their pastors.
IOW sheep will hear the shepherd’s when they use it, not when they refrain from using it. I’ll reflect on the fact that I’m over 50 now, so I admit that perhaps my theological hearing is going deaf in these matters.