Catholics Acting Catholic: It shouldn’t make the news — except that yes, it is news.

The US Bishop’s campaign for religious freedom, and the Vatican’s pending reform of the LCWR, have been met with skepticism by much of the mainstream media, and by a good chunk of the Catholic population as well.   Why?  Would we hear this same outcry against another religious group, however weird and wacky, that sought to assert its beliefs and practices?

We could guess at any number of nefarious reasons for all this alarm at Catholics acting Catholic, but I propose one common thread:  No one thinks Catholics really believe this stuff.

(For the record: Yes, we do.)

The American church has spent I’m not sure how many decades wallowing in a lukewarm faith — my entire life, at the very least.  Do an exit poll after Mass this Sunday:  How many parishioners really believe all that the Church holds to be true? In many quarters, the simple act of asserting that the Church holds some things to be true incites an outcry of protest about rights of conscience, and personal discernment, and accusations of judging other souls*.

And we’re still wallowing.

On one hand I get it: Patience.  Pastoral Care.  I appreciate all that.  I’m certainly glad the CDF inquires thoroughly and charitably before taking action.

But what’s the reality we’re living with, here in the US and elsewhere?  Do I have any confidence that my local Catholic hospital (where, incidentally, I first learned NFP) will stick to Catholic teaching in its medical care?  No I don’t.  I have no idea.  I could ask around and get the lowdown, but until I check, I don’t know.  Are my local Catholic schools really Catholic?  I think they might be, because I’ve known a few good folks associated with them . . . but I don’t know.  I don’t know.  The brand name is no guarantee.  You have to check every institution one by one. Some are excellent.  Some are positively shining beacons of the Faith.  But you really can’t know until you check for yourself.

My new pastor?  Great guy.  Fabulously Catholic sermons, right to the point — every reason to believe he’s spot-on in his faithfulness to Church teachings.  (And a decent person besides.  Wish he had more free time to hang around and have a beer or something.)  But there was a tense time wondering — now who have we got?  The fact that someone is an ordained priest, or professed religious sister or brother, or DRE, or catechist . . . is no guarantee they actually believe and teach what the Church believes and teaches.  You have watch and see.

I don’t mean, here, that you have to watch and see in the normal sense of prudence and discernment about the weaknesses and failings of all men.  We all sin.  We all struggle with our faith.  We all grow in our understanding and practice of our faith over time.   What I mean is something more insidious: The Catholic faith as taught in, say, the Catechism, is not something everyone in the Church assumes is the standard. 

And those who take the Catechism-optional approach are, in a sense, correct to do so.  They are only guilty of believing what the Church practices.  The practice of Catholic institutions not following Church teaching is so widespread that those religious orders who do stick with the magisterium make sure they mention the fact in their advertisements for vocations.  It is so rare for a homily to explain Catholic teaching on contraception that if it should happen, Catholic bloggers talk about it for days.

This isn’t about pant suits or folk guitars**.   The investigation into the LCWR isn’t about legitimate theological or practical disagreements on the innumerable topics about which Catholics are free to disagree.  It isn’t about emphasis of ministry — there are topics that might never come up at the food bank, but that matter very much at the hospital, and vice versa. No one expects the ladies sorting boxes of pasta to explain to you the details of licit and illicit fertility treatments.  (Also: Don’t necessarily ask your doctor to cook for you.)

This about the fact that a lot of Americans, including a lot of American Catholics, think the bishops are making this stuff up.  That noise about birth control and sterilization?  Well, that’s not really Catholic teaching, it’s just this optional extra, like saying the Rosary or wearing a hair shirt, that we can do if we feel called, but we don’t really have to, right?  This business of Jesus and the Church being the only way, and myriad new age practices being in fact demonic?  Oh come on.  Yes, Catholicism is a Jesus-Brand spiritual path, but don’t we each have to find our own path? And anyway, who believes in Satan? So 12th Century.

That’s the faith Americans have been practicing.  That’s what people really think the Church teaches.  The average American has a better idea of what the Amish or the Muslims believe and practice than what comprises the Catholic faith.  That is, at the very least they’d be willing to consider the possibility that the Amish have religious objections to birth control, or that Muslims think their faith is in fact the one true faith. Catholics? That birth control and catechism-stuff is just one extremist current in our multi-faceted approach to the spiritual life, right?

I read too much history to worry much.  Heresy happens. Jesus wins.  We each try to be faithful and do our best.  It’s all pretty simple, other than the details.  But for goodness sakes, let’s quit acting shocked at the outcry when we suddenly care about this stuff so publicly after so many years of stealth witness.

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Also while we’re at it: Politicians are creepy.  Professional hazard.  Quit acting like you think one side or the other is going to suddenly get all Catholic on you, just because of what they said at that speech.  There’s a reason we’re told to be wise as serpents, eh?

 

*The Church does not judge souls.  FYI.

**Full disclosure: I like pants suits.  And folk guitar.  Also long skirts and Gregorian chant.  I like everybody.

New post up at AmazingCatechists.com – Meditative Prayer in the Classroom

The plague waxes and wanes, but the power of scheduling causes the illusion of productivity. . . .  That which  I wrote about in spurts here last year, turned into one concise post for AmazingCatechists.com this year:  MED-I-TATE, MED-I-TATE . . . Reflective Prayer in the Classroom.  Enjoy.

3.5 Time Outs: Plague Journal

Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy, who’s got a time machine of his own going on this week.

One day is like 30 years, 30 years is like one day.

1.

I finished reading Eric Sammons’ new book, and hey, it’s pretty good. A lot good, in fact, and a review is forthcoming.  But today let me caution you: There’s a humility component to this holiness business.

Exhibit A:

Why do my renewed efforts at holiness always coincide with the arrival of a nasty evil throat-lung-stomach virus in our home?  Doesn’t our Lord know I have important holiness work to do?

Exhibit B:

Why does a resolution to be more Therese-like and offer up little annoyances for some general heavenly purpose get transformed into:

1.  A multiplication of petty annoyances, and a sudden intolerance for them?

2. A friend suddenly coming down with a horrid affliction (probable bone cancer — femur — please pray for Mrs. P) for which to offer all these things?

3. Thus destroying any sense of virtue I might have otherwise relished, and instead leaving me with a crotchety personality and the knowledge of just how petty it is?

 

So don’t say I didn’t warn you.  Good book otherwise, though.  Great book.

 

2.

I’m going to Dallas!!!!!!!  Yes, all those exclamation points truly are needed.  Because look, it’s like a giant crack convention:

A.  The Catholic Writer’s Conference, which means meeting in person all the people I get to work with on the CWG blog, which really is that exciting because when you get to know these people . . . you want to get to know these people.

B. The Catholic Marketing Network Conference, which is code for “Catholic Bookstores”.  Enough said.

C. And then in case I just wanted to be near the superstars of Catholic internet, there’s the Catholic New Media Conference right there as well.

Quadruple bonus:  I double-checked the back cover of my copy of Happy Catholic, and sure enough, Julie Davis lives in Dallas.  It says so right there.  (I knew it was some place in Texas, but I can never keep Dallas and Houston straight, except to know that confusing the two means wow, a lot of driving time.)  So maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to live out my dream of one day buying the woman a cup of coffee.  Or something.

3.

So here’s the thing: What’s the etiquette on bringing books to be signed at these events?  Because I don’t think I can carry that many books to Texas, and yet it would pain me, just pain me, to miss my chance to get some autographs.  I’m so conflicted.

3.5

Because I met the guy — that’s why.  Neat person.

***

PS: Link day.  Help yourself if you are so inclined.  Post as many as you want, but only one per comment or the spam dragon will eat you up and I’ll never even know.

PPS: Thus far I myself appear to be spared the evil thing — I thought I was coming down with it last night, but this morning I’m good.  So here’s your mission:  Imagine you’ve already finished praying for Mrs. P and your other serious concerns . . . Would you consider offering up a little prayer for our family, that my other dream of seeing the Bethune Catholic homestead is not thwarted by more plague later in the week?  I so want to go.  I pass the place every non-plague  year on the way to the family reunion, and I totally want to get a child to bake some brownies, and a different child to pack some airsoft guns, and stop in for an hour or two.  Goodness I might even mix up the brownies myself.

I was about to ask that we’d also be miraculously able to attend religious ed tonight (last night of the year), but #2 came staggering into the study with glazed eyes and feverish misery, so I don’t think the virtue of prudence will let us get away with that, even if there were miraculous recoveries in the next six hours.