Saturday, January 28, 2012

Why Catholics Are Right: It’s hard to work with people who must aways be right.


At the beginning of chapter three, page 101, Michael Coren quotes Fulton J. Sheen (Roman Catholic Archbishop and TV preacher of the 1950s and 60s) as having said, “There are not over a hundred people in the United States who hate the Catholic Church. There are millions, however, who hate what they wrongly believe to be the Catholic Church,....” I remember Bishop Sheen positively, and I also remember my father using that quotation. It’s a fine quote inasmuch as it makes the point that a good deal of what people hate about the Church is based on misunderstanding. But it’s also hopelessly arrogant and naive in that it dismisses virtually all criticism as ignorance. To know us is to love us, it says, so just get to know us. It is a helpful way, however, to begin an explanation of what the Church really is. There’s more than enough misunderstanding to go around.

The classical Roman Catholic Church perceives itself to be the “True Church”. Modern Catholics don’t generally talk this way, but it’s still the fundamental disagreement between Catholics and other Christians. The Catholic Church believes itself to be The Church that Christ established two-thousand years ago. Their scripture text is Matthew 16:13-19.

One day Jesus was speaking with his disciples at a place called Caesarea Philippi when he asked them, "Who do people say the Son of Man is?" They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets." And then he asked them "Who do you say I am?" And Simon Peter answered, "You are the Christ , the Son of the living God."

At this point Jesus made the declaration that has caused so much disagreement over the centuries. “...you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." I wonder if he ever wishes he could get a do-over?

Coren explains that, since the name Peter means rock, Jesus is obviously saying that he (Peter) is the foundation of the Church, establishing him as the first Pope, initiating an unbroken succession of Popes (266 from 32 A.D. to the present), and guaranteeing the infallibility of the Pope, albeit limited to what is declared as an infallible teaching of the Church. – I repeat, this is the sort of thing we don’t hear much anymore, and I think we can see why. It’s a lot to hang on a half dozen verses of scripture.

Protestants, as you might expect, disagree. The foundation of the church is Jesus, not a Pope. “For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 3:11) Peter’s name does mean rock, and we all love a good pun, but surely the rock Jesus refers to is not Peter, but Peter’s declaration "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."

In Protestant, and particularly Evangelical thinking, the church is not an institution, but a movement. It does not depend on any individual or an unbroken succession of Popes, but on the commitment of a community of believers to Jesus as the Christ (Messiah). It is composed of all believers who share Peter’s conviction about Jesus, regardless of denomination or points of disagreement. Being human, it is not infallible, though it is continually led to seek forgiveness and renewal. And, on the whole, it has survived pretty well.

For the most part Protestants and Catholics get along these days. But the Catholic notion that they constitute the “One True Church” is a continuing source of mild irritation. It results in our Catholic brothers and sister excluding us from sharing in Communion, while most Protestant churches feel free to include them. It also leads to the insistence that children of Catholic/non-Catholic marriages be raised Catholic, and numerous other points of discomfort. In fairness, it should be noted that many Catholics are uncomfortable with this notion, but they are as stuck with it as we are.

It is an important point to keep in mind, however, as we continue to explore Why Catholics Are (so fixated on being) Right. So Coren has done us all a service by bringing it up again, and we will see that it explains a lot of things.


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Why Catholics Are Right: Love is always having to say you’re sorry.


In the section of his book called Catholics and History, Coren comments on a number of historical epochs; the Crusades, the Inquisition, and the Holocaust among them. He’s willing to admit that there have been evils done in the name of Christ and the Church, and that the Church has sometimes shared the limited perspectives of its historical period, but he questions the competence and integrity of most of the historically based criticism. It has been said that those who don’t read newspapers are uninformed, and those who do are misinformed. The same, apparently, can be said of those who do and do not read history.

As Coren suggests, history is far more complex than is generally appreciated. The Crusades, for example, happened over a period of a couple of centuries (1096 – 1272) but were really part of an extended period of resistance to Muslim expansion in the Middle East and Europe that had been going on for centuries and continued well into the 1500s. They were not a simple matter of the kings of Europe, at the request of the Pope, descending on the Holy Land to attack peaceful, unsuspecting Muslims for not being Christians, and to loot, plunder, rape and kill, in search of the cup that Jesus drank from at the Last Supper. Coren admits that “They were not the proudest moment of Christian history...” and that “Most Catholics feel shame for what happened and apologize for wrongs that occurred,...”.

The Inquisition, often referred to as the Spanish Inquisition, is likewise complex according to Coren; neither local enough to be Spanish, nor unified enough to be seen as an organized campaign. Here again he has a point. Both more and less was going on than we often imagine. Fewer people died than we are sometimes led to believe, and most were executed by secular authorities rather than the Church.

Though there is a useful corrective here, it seems to me that much of what Coren is on about is beside the point. From a modern perspective, the Church had become too caught up in nation building and the controlling of people’s lives. It was wielding military power and directing affairs of state, and the concern expressed in the anti-Catholic rhetoric is that the Church has not really learned the lessons of history and, so, is apt to repeat them if given half a chance. And Coren’s defence of the church in these matters only gives credence to these concerns. In the matter of the Holocaust, however, we find a deliciously ironic twist. The Church is condemned, not so much for its involvement, but for its supposed failure to become involved.

Here Coren mounts a vigorous defence of the Church, and particularly of Pope Pius XII. It is a section well worth reading, particularly for those who have become convinced of Papal and Church complicity in, or indifference to the Holocaust. Coren builds a solid case for the Church’s steadfast opposition to Nazism beginning well before 1939, and its active involvement in sheltering Jews from persecution throughout the war. Many thousands, he claims, were sheltered in convents and monasteries throughout German occupied territories, between 4,000 and 7,000 in the Vatican itself, and about 3,000 in the Pope’s summer residence. It can be argued, of course, that there were times when the Church should have spoke out more forcefully and publicly, or should have done more, but this is hardly a picture of complicity or indifference.

Coren’s problem is that, as a loyal Catholic, he finds it very difficult to simply admit that the Church has been wrong at many points throughout its 2,000 year history. For him the Church is a divine institution, somehow situated above the fray. Catholic people, organizations, even Popes, may sin, but not the Church.

At this point I’m glad to be a Baptist and part of a Church that has no association with infallibility at any point. The “Mystical Body” (the Church in the abstract) may be somehow whole and unsullied, but, as a human institution, it is flawed like all things human. It’s better than its enemies claim, worse than it imagines itself to be, and the best we can hope is that it will keep on trying to get it right. And that, I suppose, is love; just forgiving, being forgiven, and trying to do as well, or better in future.



Saturday, January 21, 2012

WHAT AN UNGODLY MESS!

In the introduction to his book, Why Catholics Are Right, Michael Coren tells us some relevant things about himself: he was not raised a Roman Catholic, but became one in this twenties; his father was a secular Jew and, while he has lost work opportunities because of his Catholic stance, his Jewishness has been modestly beneficial in terms of his career. But the intro is largely a complaint about anti-Catholicism in the modern world. The world, he says, is intolerant of Catholics, not because of their views as much as the practical implications of the things the Church holds to be true. That Jesus was born of a virgin, or that he is truly present in the bread and wine of the Eucharist, no one cares at all. But “No” to abortion, divorce, embryonic stem-cell research, etc., is the unpardonable sin.

That the Church is vilified and misrepresented because of the moral implications of its teachings, is the main thrust of the book and, on the surface at least, this seems a plausible claim. As a pastor I rarely suffered rejection or criticism for any opinion I held, but to question someone’s behaviour was very risky indeed. Freedom to think what you please, no matter how eccentric, is an article of faith in the modern world. But the N-word is unacceptable. And the N-word is NO.

The Abuse Scandal is the subject of chapter one and, predictably, Coren defends the Church. But though he tries to explain, he never explains away; though he seeks to understand, he never excuses; though he attempts to put things in context, he never justifies or minimizes. This is one of the strongest chapters in the book, and it has caused me to reconsider some of my impressions of this tragedy.

Just for the sake of accuracy, he points out that:

1. The abuse in question was seldom, strictly speaking, child abuse or paedophilia (sexual assault of prepubescent children), but generally abuse of sexually developed, under age, emotionally and physically vulnerable boys. These are horrible crimes, he insists, but not the even more sensational, and more alliterative acts of “paedophile priests”.

2. The rates of abuse were no higher, and often lower, than those we find in other churches, schools, sports leagues, etc. This is not to lessen the horror of the crimes by claiming that the numbers were small, or others were also guilty, but it does suggest that this was not a “Catholic” problem per se. Fair point.

He insists that, in the context of the period, the church followed the advice given by most psychologists; that the offender be moved to break the cycle, and given counselling. And he suggests that, at that time, it was felt that these abusers were curable. I’d want to consider these claims further, though I do think we have a tendency to unfairly judge previous generations by the standards of present-day knowledge, attitudes and sensibilities.

And, finally, Coren insists, with the support of considerable evidence, that, far from denying responsibility for these crimes, the Church (the Pope in particular) has been utterly penitent and forthcoming. He cites a number of papal addresses and letters, and the testimony of many commentators, some of whom are generally unsympathetic to the Church.

Multigenerational mega-scandals are always fiendishly complex, and when the lawyers show up things become even more complicated. I, therefore, claim no definitive understanding of this horrifying mess. But I would vehemently disagree with Coren on one point. He maintains that the Church’s insistence on priestly celibacy is irrelevant to a discussion of this matter. While celibate individuals may be no more likely than others to commit acts of sexual abuse, my concern is with process of handling the situation.

As I’ve said previously, a celibate clergy is an “old-boys network” writ large, and, for these men, “Mother Church” is the closest thing they have to family. Does it make any sense at all to suggest that the structure of the institution that oversaw the sex abuse scandal had no impact on the development of this tragedy? Women (wives in particular) have a huge impact on men, especially on male group-thinking. Family and children are also great normalizing influences. It is hard for me to imagine that these men would have dealt with these matters in the same way if, at the end of the day, they had been fathers, going home to children, and sharing their concerns with mothers.

While celibacy is a normal, natural state for individual human beings – we all start out that way – the requirement of clergy celibacy makes the Roman Catholic Church unique among the major institutions of the modern world. Coren argues that, though it was codified as late as the eleventh century, it is an ancient expectation, and flows from a desire to commit fully to the cause of Christ. This may be so, but it is unbiblical, and the unintended consequences, not of individual celibacy, but of the requirement that all clergy be celibate, are immense. This is a tragedy for the Church and, sadly, I agree with Michael Coren that it is not something that is going to change soon.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I’m an ex-Catholic, so, why do I care?


As I begin to focus on Michael Coren’s book, Why Catholics are Right, I feel the need to reflect a bit on why I care about the topic at all. Some of you are aware that I’m an ex-Catholic, but how that affects my feelings about, and relationship to Catholicism is not as obvious as some might imagine.

Some ex-Catholics are enemies of the Church and can’t say anything bad enough about it. I’ve met lots of these. Often when ex-Catholics discover that I too am an XC they dump a load of anti-Catholic vitriol assuming I will share their feelings. I am sympathetic, and I try to be empathetic, but I’m not one of those. Some XCs, on the other hand, feel cut off from the Church and pine for what they’ve lost, I’m not one of those either. Some have cultivated a cynical edge, others a cool indifference, others a romanticized idealism; not I.

The stories are many and varied, even among my own siblings, so I hope some of you XCs out there will be moved to share some of your thoughts. Perhaps even some members of my family will chime in. And, of course, everyone is always welcome to wade in regardless. So, here’s my reflection on my ex-Catholicism.

The Brits of the 18th century didn’t wander all over the world because they were unhappy being British; they were crazy about being British. But anyone who’s lived on English “cuisine” for a while knows exactly what was going on. They were trying to find something good to eat. In fact, when they ran across good food they didn’t even have a word for it, and had to borrow one from the French. And then, one day, they woke up to discover they’d become Canucks or Yanks or Aussies or Kiwis, and that was that.

A similar thing happened with me and the Catholic Church. I didn’t leave the Church because I was unhappy; I loved being Catholic, and didn’t really mean to leave at all. I just found as my faith developed, I began to hunger for a kind of food we didn’t seem to have. I asked questions – simple, teenage-type questions – that no one was willing or able to answer, and wandered off to find answers elsewhere. And then one day I woke up and discovered I was a Baptist. Someone once said that a French Canadian is a Frenchman who knows what side of the Atlantic his bread is buttered on. Well, I'm a Catholic who discovered buttered bread, got invited to lunch, and never went home.

All this to say, I’m sincerely delighted to read a defence of the Roman Catholic Church. She’s an arrogant old girl, way too stuck on herself, and far too hung up on always being right. She’s condescending, pedantic, and overly impressed with her family tree. Over the centuries she’s done some bad things, but a lot of good things too. And she’s been knocked around a fair bit in recent years for both the good and bad, and for a lot of other things that she may not have done, or at least that have never been proven. Michael Coren spoke up last year in her defence, and I’m glad he did. ‘Bout time someone did.

The truth is I love the Catholic Church, and when I go home for a visit I’m reminded of why I do. But I’m also reminded of why I don’t live there anymore. The fundamental things I believe as a follower of Jesus I learned there. But I also learned a lot of nonsense. The same, of course, can be said about any good home. I suppose it’s one of the reasons we leave home, and keep leaving every time we go back.

Before we take up the subject of the Abuse Scandal in the next blog post, you might like to get a bit if a feeling for the man. Check out Michael Coren on Agenda, with Steve Paikin.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Could it be someone doesn't really want these folks?


Early in December Immigration Minister Jason Kenney announced “Starting today, any individual will have to show his or her face when taking the oath of citizenship. Allowing a group to hide their faces while they are becoming members of our community”, he explained, “is counter to Canada’s commitment to openness, equality and social cohesion.” And he further noted that he had heard complaints from citizenship judges, MPs and others who’ve participated in citizenship ceremonies who have argued it’s hard to tell whether veiled individuals are actually reciting the oath.

It seems obvious that this new rule is directed at the tiny population of Muslim women who wear the niqab or burka. What other “group” is there that might wish to “hide” their faces in citizenship court? And it seems equally apparent that Kenny is dancing around the problem of specifically referring to this group because to do so would be discriminatory. This lack of frankness and thoughtful discussion is troubling.

I, like many others, have concerns about the niqab and burka. Fears that it’s confining and potentially abusive of women seem reasonable, as do occasional security concerns. It seems sensible to prohibit a burka clad woman from driving, due to concerns about impaired vision, or for security personnel to focus on people who conceal their faces. But it’s important that we be frank and honest if we are to negotiate these matters in good faith.

If someone wishes to take an oath with a covered face, what exactly is the concern? Knowing who they are? Surely there are many ways to certify identity. Knowing if they are actually speaking? Seems to me we could listen. And, come to think of it, is it strictly necessary that an oath be vocalized? Has there ever been a concern in citizenship court that someone might just be mouthing the words? And, would it matter if they were? Can stroke victims who cannot speak become a Canadian citizens? Surely they can, as there are lots of ways to indicate the affirmation of an oath. Wouldn’t participating in the ceremony itself, and signing whatever it is they sign, be sufficient? Then again, maybe new citizens don’t sign anything. Then again, maybe they should.

A while back the concern was people voting with their faces covered, even though we allow Canadian citizens to vote by mail. Then it was accessing government services with their faces covered, though our government encourages thousands each year to apply for Employment Insurance Benefits and Canada Pension on line.

If we wish to accommodate people, we find ways to do so. If we do not wish to accommodate people, we don’t. But it is disrespectful and hurtful to justify ourselves by suggesting that there are problems where there are none.