Let's go around the horn and look at a few points of interest....
Amy Wellborn reminds us, clearly, calmly, and rationally, that we need not get ourselves in a dither over this or that of the Holy Father's comments--and that we need not defend them, either, in Against Popesplaining at her blog, Charlotte Was Both. (It's a little lengthy, but do press on, especially to the point below the **** across the bottom of the page.)
Scott Eric Alt exposes a statistic commonly used by Catholic apologists as hogwash in We Need To Stop Saying That There Are 33,000 Protestant Denominations at the National Catholic Register. (The multi-denominational argument is strong enough on its own; it needs no embellishment.)
Professor Anthony Esolen writes a moving thought experiment, looking at the modern world through the eyes of our forebears, in What Would Our Ancestors Think of Us? over at Crisis Magazine. (And no, I did not choose this simply because there is a picture of the TARDIS in the article.)
Enjoy!
Showing posts with label Pope Francis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pope Francis. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Pope Francis the Confessor
There was quite the hubbub made in the press about Pope Francis being caught on camera making his confession during a penance service this last week. Apparently this is the first time a pope has made confession in a public setting like this. I thought this a beautiful gesture on his part, with several salutary benefits to the Church and the world at large.
For one, it puts his money where his mouth has been, so to speak. Pope Francis throughout his pontificate has stressed the importance of the Sacrament of Penance and has exhorted the faithful to avail themselves of it. By being seen himself partaking of this sacrament, Pope Francis gives witness to its power and efficacy. It's like the ultimate celebrity endorsement: "I'm not only the leader of the Holy Catholic Church, I'm also a client."
For another, this public act of penance is one more way to clear up the all-too-prevalent confusion of papal infallibility for impeccability. Papal infallibility means that the Pope cannot err when in a solemn and public act he proclaims some matter of faith or morals to be definitively held by the faithful. Some people take "infallibility" to mean "the Pope can do no wrong, he is incapable of sin or error of any sort." But that would be impeccability, not infallibility. (From the Latin peccatum, "sin.") The Pope is a man, with foibles and shortcomings and bad habits, like any of us. And he knows he is a sinner in need of absolution. By letting himself be seen confessing, he helps us to know it, too, and thus to know the limits of his office: the Pope is our inerrant teacher, but he can still do all kinds of bad things. Just look at the Borgia popes. Or St. Peter, for that matter.
Let's follow the example of Pope Francis. Confess your sins! Be free of their chains! Embrace God's forgiveness made possible through the loving self-sacrifice of Christ! To quote the Oracle from The Matrix, "I promise, by the time you've finished, you'll be right as rain."
For one, it puts his money where his mouth has been, so to speak. Pope Francis throughout his pontificate has stressed the importance of the Sacrament of Penance and has exhorted the faithful to avail themselves of it. By being seen himself partaking of this sacrament, Pope Francis gives witness to its power and efficacy. It's like the ultimate celebrity endorsement: "I'm not only the leader of the Holy Catholic Church, I'm also a client."
For another, this public act of penance is one more way to clear up the all-too-prevalent confusion of papal infallibility for impeccability. Papal infallibility means that the Pope cannot err when in a solemn and public act he proclaims some matter of faith or morals to be definitively held by the faithful. Some people take "infallibility" to mean "the Pope can do no wrong, he is incapable of sin or error of any sort." But that would be impeccability, not infallibility. (From the Latin peccatum, "sin.") The Pope is a man, with foibles and shortcomings and bad habits, like any of us. And he knows he is a sinner in need of absolution. By letting himself be seen confessing, he helps us to know it, too, and thus to know the limits of his office: the Pope is our inerrant teacher, but he can still do all kinds of bad things. Just look at the Borgia popes. Or St. Peter, for that matter.
Let's follow the example of Pope Francis. Confess your sins! Be free of their chains! Embrace God's forgiveness made possible through the loving self-sacrifice of Christ! To quote the Oracle from The Matrix, "I promise, by the time you've finished, you'll be right as rain."
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Healing the Divide
Something's been sticking in my craw for a while now. It's niggled at me like a pebble in my shoe and irritated me like a mosquito bite. There's a tendency in the Church today to split up a particular pair of things, when in fact they ought to go together like peas and carrots, like Laurel and Hardy, like peanut butter and cheddar cheese. (What? Nobody else does that?)
In virtually every parish, university, and diocese I've encountered, there have been an office or center or group dedicated to pro-life activities, and one dedicated to the Church's social teaching. The social justice department addresses subjects such as poverty, war, immigration, workers' rights, and so forth, while the pro-life committee handles abortion, euthanasia, contraception, capital punishment, and the like. (Though the last item sometimes sneaks its way over to the other camp.) This may not strike some people as odd. But it should.
Why? Because it creates a divide where there ought not to be one. It gives the impression that the life issues are something distinct from the social justice issues. But this is not so. The life issues are social justice issues, indeed, the primary social justice issues. One need look no further than the US Conference of Catholic Bishops' web page on Catholic Social Teaching. What is the first item listed? "Life and Dignity of the Human Person." The opening sentences make clear the primacy of the life issues in the Church's social teaching:
I think this divide can be blamed on the unfortunate way in which politics and faith tend to get mixed up in the West. (I don't mean to say that it is unfortunate that faith and politics intersect--indeed, they should and they must. I mean to say that the way in which it happens is unfortunate.) Conservatives and liberals have their different visions and positions and priorities, and that gets reflected in their activity in the Church: by and large, you'll find political conservatives in the pro-life groups and political liberals in the social justice groups. And the two aren't particularly interested in working with one another.
Now, you could make the argument that a given person only has so much time and energy, and naturally they'll devote it to those things about which they are most passionate, so that inevitably some will pursue pro-life work, some immigration advocacy, and so on. I don't deny this. But there's no reason all of these issues can't be set under the same umbrella. Dividing them in this way, into essentially "conservative" and "liberal" issues, only exacerbates the problem of people placing their politics above their faith, or making their political opinions the lens through which they view their faith, when really we ought to approach politics from our position as Catholics, faithful to the Church's teaching and heeding the Church's guidance on social matters. The former approach is just the sort of thinking that provides cover for politicians who do not adopt the Church's stance on abortion, war, capital punishment, or what-have-you--they can compartmentalize the Church's teaching, accepting some and rejecting others, because we've already done it for them.
I recently saw an exemplar of just the sort of approach I think we should take. In his address to ambassadors and the Vatican diplomatic corps on January 13, Pope Francis said the following:
Let's not split these up anymore. Let's please keep in mind that the Church's social teaching begins with the protection of human life, and that several key principles follow from that. Let's heal this divide. Only then can the Church address society with a voice strengthened by its unity and integrity, and only then can it hope to influence hearts and minds to conversion, repentance, and action.
In virtually every parish, university, and diocese I've encountered, there have been an office or center or group dedicated to pro-life activities, and one dedicated to the Church's social teaching. The social justice department addresses subjects such as poverty, war, immigration, workers' rights, and so forth, while the pro-life committee handles abortion, euthanasia, contraception, capital punishment, and the like. (Though the last item sometimes sneaks its way over to the other camp.) This may not strike some people as odd. But it should.
Why? Because it creates a divide where there ought not to be one. It gives the impression that the life issues are something distinct from the social justice issues. But this is not so. The life issues are social justice issues, indeed, the primary social justice issues. One need look no further than the US Conference of Catholic Bishops' web page on Catholic Social Teaching. What is the first item listed? "Life and Dignity of the Human Person." The opening sentences make clear the primacy of the life issues in the Church's social teaching:
"The Catholic Church proclaims that human life is sacred and that the dignity of the human person is the foundation of a moral vision for society. This belief is the foundation of all the principles of our social teaching. "None of the teachings that follow, from protecting the poor to caring for the environment, will stand unless the principle of the absolute dignity of every human life stands beneath them as a foundation. And this principle is incomplete without the subsequent teachings following from it.
I think this divide can be blamed on the unfortunate way in which politics and faith tend to get mixed up in the West. (I don't mean to say that it is unfortunate that faith and politics intersect--indeed, they should and they must. I mean to say that the way in which it happens is unfortunate.) Conservatives and liberals have their different visions and positions and priorities, and that gets reflected in their activity in the Church: by and large, you'll find political conservatives in the pro-life groups and political liberals in the social justice groups. And the two aren't particularly interested in working with one another.
Now, you could make the argument that a given person only has so much time and energy, and naturally they'll devote it to those things about which they are most passionate, so that inevitably some will pursue pro-life work, some immigration advocacy, and so on. I don't deny this. But there's no reason all of these issues can't be set under the same umbrella. Dividing them in this way, into essentially "conservative" and "liberal" issues, only exacerbates the problem of people placing their politics above their faith, or making their political opinions the lens through which they view their faith, when really we ought to approach politics from our position as Catholics, faithful to the Church's teaching and heeding the Church's guidance on social matters. The former approach is just the sort of thinking that provides cover for politicians who do not adopt the Church's stance on abortion, war, capital punishment, or what-have-you--they can compartmentalize the Church's teaching, accepting some and rejecting others, because we've already done it for them.
I recently saw an exemplar of just the sort of approach I think we should take. In his address to ambassadors and the Vatican diplomatic corps on January 13, Pope Francis said the following:
Peace is also threatened by every denial of human dignity, firstly the lack of access to adequate nutrition. We cannot be indifferent to those suffering from hunger, especially children, when we think of how much food is wasted every day in many parts of the world immersed in what I have often termed “the throwaway culture”. Unfortunately, what is thrown away is not only food and dispensable objects, but often human beings themselves, who are discarded as “unnecessary”. For example, it is frightful even to think there are children, victims of abortion, who will never see the light of day; children being used as soldiers, abused and killed in armed conflicts; and children being bought and sold in that terrible form of modern slavery which is human trafficking, which is a crime against humanity.Look at that! Hunger, abortion, child trafficking, all woven together in one statement on the dignity of the human person! See how naturally they all fit together? See how strong the message is when it challenges so many various threats to humanity? This is well-rounded thinking. It's universal in its considerations. It's, well, Catholic.
Let's not split these up anymore. Let's please keep in mind that the Church's social teaching begins with the protection of human life, and that several key principles follow from that. Let's heal this divide. Only then can the Church address society with a voice strengthened by its unity and integrity, and only then can it hope to influence hearts and minds to conversion, repentance, and action.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Don't Worry, It's Nobody You Know
Today Pope Francis announced the names of the 19 men he will create as cardinals on February 22.
(I'm not sure why "create" is the preferred nomenclature here, but it is: you ordain priests, consecrate bishops, create cardinals. It's like how you can only "cast" aspersions. You never see "aspersions" used apart from the verb "cast." Why can't I hurl them or scatter them or drop them or fling them? Anyway....)
American media have reported this story as "Pope names new cardinals, none American." We do tend to be a bit concerned about ourselves, don't we? Comedian Eddie Izzard pointed this out in his impression of American international news: "No Americans were involved in anything today." Though he says the Brits are the same: "Two British people scraped their knees today in Azerbaijan. Four billion other people died, but we don't know them."
Now, it's one thing if an angle in a story positively relates to your hometown or place of origin or someone you know: you then feel a stronger interest in the story. I was really proud when I found out, as a boy, that a man from our tiny little farming community had pitched in the major leagues, played with Willie Mays, and was second in Rookie of the Year voting only to some guy named Jackie Robinson. Wow! A guy from Verboort! How about that?! And just yesterday I saw that an Iraqi priest I had become acquainted with in seminary had been named a bishop. "I thought I recognized that name! I remember eating dinner with him and talking about theology!" Being especially interested in those sorts of connections seem natural to me.
But headlining a story as "No one from 'round these parts was involved" seems to me to be taking the wrong attitude. Yes, it's naturally more interesting if someone you know or are connected to is involved, but that shouldn't be our only reason for taking notice of a story. Isn't it interesting in itself that the pope named some cardinals from places that haven't had cardinals before? That one is the 98-year old former secretary to Blessed Pope John XXIII? That's neat! Tell me more about that. Your article will be far too long if you tell me about all the guys that weren't named cardinals.
This is a relatively minor complaint about the way media tend to report things. But still worth noting, I think.
(I'm not sure why "create" is the preferred nomenclature here, but it is: you ordain priests, consecrate bishops, create cardinals. It's like how you can only "cast" aspersions. You never see "aspersions" used apart from the verb "cast." Why can't I hurl them or scatter them or drop them or fling them? Anyway....)
American media have reported this story as "Pope names new cardinals, none American." We do tend to be a bit concerned about ourselves, don't we? Comedian Eddie Izzard pointed this out in his impression of American international news: "No Americans were involved in anything today." Though he says the Brits are the same: "Two British people scraped their knees today in Azerbaijan. Four billion other people died, but we don't know them."
Now, it's one thing if an angle in a story positively relates to your hometown or place of origin or someone you know: you then feel a stronger interest in the story. I was really proud when I found out, as a boy, that a man from our tiny little farming community had pitched in the major leagues, played with Willie Mays, and was second in Rookie of the Year voting only to some guy named Jackie Robinson. Wow! A guy from Verboort! How about that?! And just yesterday I saw that an Iraqi priest I had become acquainted with in seminary had been named a bishop. "I thought I recognized that name! I remember eating dinner with him and talking about theology!" Being especially interested in those sorts of connections seem natural to me.
But headlining a story as "No one from 'round these parts was involved" seems to me to be taking the wrong attitude. Yes, it's naturally more interesting if someone you know or are connected to is involved, but that shouldn't be our only reason for taking notice of a story. Isn't it interesting in itself that the pope named some cardinals from places that haven't had cardinals before? That one is the 98-year old former secretary to Blessed Pope John XXIII? That's neat! Tell me more about that. Your article will be far too long if you tell me about all the guys that weren't named cardinals.
This is a relatively minor complaint about the way media tend to report things. But still worth noting, I think.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Women Cardinals and Clericalism
The pope has given an interview to Italian Journalist Andrea Tornielli, mostly focusing on the meaning of Christmas, but with a few random quick questions thrown in. I found this one particularly interesting:
The clericalist assumes that one's worth within the Church is determined by the authority or power one holds in the Church. We see this mindset everywhere within the ecclesiological spectrum, whenever someone tries to turn every utterance of a priest or bishop into an infallible proclamation, binding by force of excommunication--be it ueber-traddies who denigrate receiving Communion in the hand because some saint somewhere allegedly said it was bad (even though it's an ancient practice and the Church officially allows it), to the super-lib who says anyone who doesn't adhere to their reading of every suggestion of prudential judgment from every USCCB statement on peace and justice issues is "not really Catholic" (ignoring, of course, all the conference's pro-life statements, which are just as much "peace and justice" issues as anything).
Those who agitate for women to be included among the College of Cardinals usually couch their argument in terms of power and authority: the Church needs to include women in decision-making roles; women need to have their voices heard at the highest levels; and so forth. And dig a little deeper with these folks and ask why they think women need to be placed in these positions, and 11 times out of 10, you'll hear things like: "...because then we would have the influence to change the Church's teaching on contraception/abortion/women's ordination...."
Aha! It's not about humbly serving the Church, but about substantially changing the Church. They think that might makes right, that the will determines the truth, that the teaching of the Church will be determined by the personal ideas and preferences of the governors of the Church--an even more twisted form of cuius regio, eius religio. It is the clericalist mindset that thinks the ruler makes the religion.
Pope Francis' point in this brief quotation is to slap down clericalism and uphold the dignity of every Christian and the unique calling God makes to each. You don't have to be a priest or bishop to do the work of God. Indeed, as Jeremiah 23 reminds us, the shepherd has an awful burden and responsibility before God should he lead the sheep astray--if that authority is misused, "woe unto you shepherds."
Pope Francis has said elsewhere that Mary is the model Christian, around whom the apostles were gathered at Pentecost... and she wasn't an apostle, wasn't a bishop, wasn't a cleric. She was simply herself: a disciple of Jesus Christ. Which is what we are all called to be. Let's be that.
May I ask you if the Church will have women cardinals in the future?
“I don’t know where this idea sprang from. Women in the Church must be valued not 'clericalised'. Whoever thinks of women as cardinals suffers a bit from clericalism.”Clericalism is an attitude that clerics (bishops, priests, deacons, cardinals) are somehow morally superior to the rest of the Church, that the authority they hold and the power they exercise to enact that authority are the highest goods in the Church. Clericalism is overly concerned with power, and it is a problem you find on all sides of the ecclesiological spectrum. Anyone who is more interested in using authority to put into place their ideological agenda than using it to further the Gospel and the Kingdom of God is a clericalist. Clericalism is about power, not servant leadership.
The clericalist assumes that one's worth within the Church is determined by the authority or power one holds in the Church. We see this mindset everywhere within the ecclesiological spectrum, whenever someone tries to turn every utterance of a priest or bishop into an infallible proclamation, binding by force of excommunication--be it ueber-traddies who denigrate receiving Communion in the hand because some saint somewhere allegedly said it was bad (even though it's an ancient practice and the Church officially allows it), to the super-lib who says anyone who doesn't adhere to their reading of every suggestion of prudential judgment from every USCCB statement on peace and justice issues is "not really Catholic" (ignoring, of course, all the conference's pro-life statements, which are just as much "peace and justice" issues as anything).
Those who agitate for women to be included among the College of Cardinals usually couch their argument in terms of power and authority: the Church needs to include women in decision-making roles; women need to have their voices heard at the highest levels; and so forth. And dig a little deeper with these folks and ask why they think women need to be placed in these positions, and 11 times out of 10, you'll hear things like: "...because then we would have the influence to change the Church's teaching on contraception/abortion/women's ordination...."
Aha! It's not about humbly serving the Church, but about substantially changing the Church. They think that might makes right, that the will determines the truth, that the teaching of the Church will be determined by the personal ideas and preferences of the governors of the Church--an even more twisted form of cuius regio, eius religio. It is the clericalist mindset that thinks the ruler makes the religion.
Pope Francis' point in this brief quotation is to slap down clericalism and uphold the dignity of every Christian and the unique calling God makes to each. You don't have to be a priest or bishop to do the work of God. Indeed, as Jeremiah 23 reminds us, the shepherd has an awful burden and responsibility before God should he lead the sheep astray--if that authority is misused, "woe unto you shepherds."
Pope Francis has said elsewhere that Mary is the model Christian, around whom the apostles were gathered at Pentecost... and she wasn't an apostle, wasn't a bishop, wasn't a cleric. She was simply herself: a disciple of Jesus Christ. Which is what we are all called to be. Let's be that.
Monday, November 11, 2013
A Plea to Pastors
Some recent news stories have reported an increase in the number of people going to confession since Pope Francis ascended to the Holy See. This is a wonderful thing to hear, and we ought all to pray that it continue. If the spiritual life is likened to the bodily life, then this sacrament is medicine for a sick soul, and all of us are suffering from one sort of spiritual illness or another. We all could use a little booster shot of God's grace now and then!
To extend the analogy, it would certainly help if the clinic were open more often. As much as we talk about the vital importance of this sacrament to the spiritual life, most parishes offer confessions very infrequently: most typically, for somewhere between 30 and 60 minutes right before the vigil Mass on Saturday afternoons. But life is busy, and Saturday afternoon seems a busier time than most: you might have to work, or coach a Little League team, or it may be the only time you can work on that home improvement project without the neighbors complaining. There are 10 thousand and eight reasons why any 60 minute block of time may be unavailable to you in a given week.
And in my experience, often the priest shows up 10 or 20 minutes late. Can you imagine a health clinic that only offered flu shots once a week for 45 minutes? Yes, most parishes also say you can make an appointment to have your confession heard. But have you ever tried actually doing this? Whatever time you suggest, odds are the pastor is in a meeting.
God bless our priests, they're often over-extended and over-worked, I know. My point here is not to blame them. My point is to say that if the Church is serious about its words on wanting the faithful to avail themselves of this sacrament more frequently, parishes should make this sacrament available more frequently. The Church teaches us that the Mass is the "source and summit of the Christian life," and it backs this up by offering four, five, six Masses during the weekend, giving people as much of a chance as possible to partake of the Supper of the Lamb. The Church also teaches that the sacrament of Penance is sorely needed for our spiritual health, and it backs this up by... 45 minutes a week? That doesn't add up.
The leadership of the Church knows this, I think. In his 2002 apostolic letter motu proprio Misericordia Dei, soon-to-be-St. John Paul II, as part of an effort to effect a "vigorous revitalization" of the sacrament, directed the bishops and priests of the Church to ensure that this sacrament be made more widely available to the faithful:
To extend the analogy, it would certainly help if the clinic were open more often. As much as we talk about the vital importance of this sacrament to the spiritual life, most parishes offer confessions very infrequently: most typically, for somewhere between 30 and 60 minutes right before the vigil Mass on Saturday afternoons. But life is busy, and Saturday afternoon seems a busier time than most: you might have to work, or coach a Little League team, or it may be the only time you can work on that home improvement project without the neighbors complaining. There are 10 thousand and eight reasons why any 60 minute block of time may be unavailable to you in a given week.
And in my experience, often the priest shows up 10 or 20 minutes late. Can you imagine a health clinic that only offered flu shots once a week for 45 minutes? Yes, most parishes also say you can make an appointment to have your confession heard. But have you ever tried actually doing this? Whatever time you suggest, odds are the pastor is in a meeting.
God bless our priests, they're often over-extended and over-worked, I know. My point here is not to blame them. My point is to say that if the Church is serious about its words on wanting the faithful to avail themselves of this sacrament more frequently, parishes should make this sacrament available more frequently. The Church teaches us that the Mass is the "source and summit of the Christian life," and it backs this up by offering four, five, six Masses during the weekend, giving people as much of a chance as possible to partake of the Supper of the Lamb. The Church also teaches that the sacrament of Penance is sorely needed for our spiritual health, and it backs this up by... 45 minutes a week? That doesn't add up.
The leadership of the Church knows this, I think. In his 2002 apostolic letter motu proprio Misericordia Dei, soon-to-be-St. John Paul II, as part of an effort to effect a "vigorous revitalization" of the sacrament, directed the bishops and priests of the Church to ensure that this sacrament be made more widely available to the faithful:
"Local Ordinaries, and parish priests and rectors of churches and shrines, should periodically verify that the greatest possible provision is in fact being made for the faithful to confess their sins. It is particularly recommended that in places of worship confessors be visibly present at the advertised times, that these times be adapted to the real circumstances of penitents, and that confessions be especially available before Masses, and even during Mass if there are other priests available, in order to meet the needs of the faithful."Now, there are lots of reasons that the number of people partaking of this sacrament has been down in recent decades. The biggest, I'm sure, is the loss of the sense of sin, the dulling of our consciences, the defining-down of sinfulness to "I'm basically a good person... I mean, it's not like I kill people... often." This problem also needs to be addressed. But I'm convinced of the Field of Dreams Principle: "If you build it, they will come." If you offer confession more often, more people will participate. I know that priests are often extraordinarily busy, but would it be that much of a demand on your time to offer other half hour periods during the week, three or four days--heck, maybe every day? Look at it this way: if people come, fantastic, you've been a Good Shepherd and reconciled them to God; if people don't come, you can use the time as a daily period for spiritual reading, prayer, homily prep, etc. Work on your crossword puzzle if you want. But be there for us. You are doctors of grace and we need your ministrations.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Journalism 101 and the Pope's Interview
For the past 80 years or so my tiny home parish has put on a traditional Dutch sausage & sauerkraut dinner as a fundraiser for the church and its school. It's a huge event, known throughout the state, and the local news channels usually cover it. They send down a camera crew, talk to people, eat some sausage, then go off to produce their segment.
And every year the story gets something wrong: they mispronounce someone's name; they place our parish in the wrong city; they quote someone who has little to nothing to do with putting on the dinner and they say something incorrect. You see this and think, "Man, what a bunch of amateurs! They got this all wrong!"
But what do you do then? You watch the next segment, and assume that everything is accurate and correct! Even though you just saw for yourself that they make mistakes!
When we know something about an event being reported, we're able to see where the reporting goes wrong; why don't we remember that when we hear other news stories?
I was reminded of this recently in the hubbub over the interview with Pope Francis. Newspapers and TV news outlets made a story out of this interview, but anyone who had actually read the interview for themselves would be able to tell you that these news media grossly distorted what the pope had said.
Every single news story I saw on the interview made the same fundamental reporting mistakes, things my journalism classes taught me were absolutely unacceptable in reporting.
How did these news outlets end up making this mistake? They took their first mistake of improperly inserting analysis into news and applied it to these quotations. The headline they concocted tells you more about what the media thinks on these issues than what the pope thinks: to them, the Church's teachings on these moral issues are nothing but small-minded rules that the Church has spent far too much time obsessing over.
Your ten-dollar word for the day is eisegesis, which means "the interpretation of a text (as of the Bible) by reading into it one's own ideas." The news media, in reading and reporting on the pope's interview, was doing eisegesis: they inserted their own presuppositions and opinions into the text and tried to make the pope their puppet. Whether this was done intentionally or not, I couldn't say. Sometimes people just hear what they want to hear. But, at the very least, I would hope this episode would make you wary of trusting everything you read or see in the news. If they can't even get my parish dinner right, why should you expect them to report accurately on a 12,000 word interview?
And every year the story gets something wrong: they mispronounce someone's name; they place our parish in the wrong city; they quote someone who has little to nothing to do with putting on the dinner and they say something incorrect. You see this and think, "Man, what a bunch of amateurs! They got this all wrong!"
But what do you do then? You watch the next segment, and assume that everything is accurate and correct! Even though you just saw for yourself that they make mistakes!
When we know something about an event being reported, we're able to see where the reporting goes wrong; why don't we remember that when we hear other news stories?
I was reminded of this recently in the hubbub over the interview with Pope Francis. Newspapers and TV news outlets made a story out of this interview, but anyone who had actually read the interview for themselves would be able to tell you that these news media grossly distorted what the pope had said.
Every single news story I saw on the interview made the same fundamental reporting mistakes, things my journalism classes taught me were absolutely unacceptable in reporting.
- They made the increasingly more prevalent error of mixing news analysis with news reporting, speculating on the pope's intentions or motivations in giving the interview. The news page is supposed to report what happened; the editorial page is supposed to give opinions. If the news page wants to give voice to the opinions of particular people on a story's content, they should attribute those opinions to those particular people, e.g. "Professor John Q. Academic thinks this could signal..." instead of just saying, "This could signal...." Really? It could? Says who?
- They quoted the pope out of context, warping his words to make him say things he didn't. In most stories, this practice started right at the headline and worked its way down. Nearly every headline said something like, "Pope says church is 'obsessed' with rules on abortion, contraception, gay marriage." What a gripping headline! Only problem is HE DIDN'T SAY THAT. This glues together words from THREE DIFFERENT PARAGRAPHS to fabricate a quotation. In one paragraph he said, "We cannot insist only on issues related to abortion, gay marriage and the use of contraceptive methods" (adding that "the church's teaching on these things is clear"); in another he said "The church’s pastoral ministry cannot be obsessed with the transmission of a disjointed multitude of doctrines to be imposed insistently" (instead desiring to first and foremost focus on the "proposal of the Gospel"); and in another he said that "The church sometimes has locked itself up in small things, in small-minded rules." Nowhere did he say what the headline reported him to say.
How did these news outlets end up making this mistake? They took their first mistake of improperly inserting analysis into news and applied it to these quotations. The headline they concocted tells you more about what the media thinks on these issues than what the pope thinks: to them, the Church's teachings on these moral issues are nothing but small-minded rules that the Church has spent far too much time obsessing over.
Your ten-dollar word for the day is eisegesis, which means "the interpretation of a text (as of the Bible) by reading into it one's own ideas." The news media, in reading and reporting on the pope's interview, was doing eisegesis: they inserted their own presuppositions and opinions into the text and tried to make the pope their puppet. Whether this was done intentionally or not, I couldn't say. Sometimes people just hear what they want to hear. But, at the very least, I would hope this episode would make you wary of trusting everything you read or see in the news. If they can't even get my parish dinner right, why should you expect them to report accurately on a 12,000 word interview?
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Why the Press Doesn't Get the Pope
Once upon a time, in the halcyon days of my undergraduate education, I majored in journalism. Well, technically speaking, I majored in Communication Studies with an emphasis in journalism, but the point is that which my courses were directed toward was a formation and education in the journalistic art. I entered college wanting to be a sports writer, so I took classes called Writing & Reporting, Public Affairs Reporting, Communication History (which was basically a history of newspapers), and so forth. This is pertinent only to establish my credibility for the topic at hand: when I talk about journalistic mindsets and practices, I know a little of what I speak.
The media hubbub in the last few days over Pope Francis' comments to reporters while flying back from World Youth Day has demonstrated once again that, by and large, the news media knows about as much about religion as I do about internal combustion engines: that is, not much. Why is this? I can think of a few reasons.
First, journalists are primarily educated in the field of public events reporting. Anything that involves a basic who-what-when-where-why-how breakdown, they can do pretty well: "two people were injured on Mulberry Street Thursday morning in a freak gardening accident that has some questioning the practice of marketing chainsaws as lawn trimmers," and so forth. Easy enough. Anything that requires a little specialized knowledge usually requires a specialty reporter: our science correspondent, our sports reporter, etc. But news bureaus are getting smaller these days, meaning that specialty topics are being covered by non-specialists. This seems to be most true with religion reporting (or perhaps just appears to be so to me because it's something I know a little about), and the result is often pretty shoddy. The website GetReligion is dedicated to bringing to light these sorts of poorly told tales and is filled with examples of reporters misrepresenting the most basic of Christian beliefs (the best are always at Christmas and Easter, when reporters try to explain what mysteries are being celebrated--it would be hilarious if it weren't so sad)--never mind the subtleties and nuances of, say, moral theology or sexual ethics, or the all-important distinction between the sinner and the sin. They often just plain don't know what they're talking about.
This leads to our second point. Before they might gain a specialty (assuming they aren't a specialist-turned-journalist), usually most reporters are encouraged to be well-versed enough in politics to enable them to report on the important events of the day, so that political reporting becomes less a specialty than a standard modus operandi for the reporter. And because most reporters are trained in politics, they tend to see every story as a political story, a story about groups struggling for power or influence. Look at the reporting on global warming, for example: it's much less about any of the science involved and much more about various political pressure groups or international scientific bodies vying for the nation's attention. Too often, it's the same with religious reporting.
Reporters tend to view religious groups, such as the Catholic Church, solely as political organizations that have "policies" and "agendas" and do "messaging"; they definitely do not view the Church as the organized body of believers in Jesus Christ, convened under the headship of Peter among us, preaching the Gospel and teaching the truth for the salvation of souls. (Though to play devil's advocate for a moment, the Church does have a bureaucratic structure and does, in fine Italian fashion, have in-fighting between various offices at times, so the press can't be entirely blamed for treating it like any other organization on occasion.)
To the point: when Pope Francis makes comments on the Church's pastoral responsibility toward homosexual persons, on the importance of distinguishing the sin from the sinner, on the reality of the forgiveness of sins and the duty to recognize that fact in people's lives, he is simply expressing, as a true shepherd of his sheep, what the Church's Magisterium says in a dozen other places. But because most of these reporters 1) do not know the Church's teaching on this topic and think the Church "hates gays or something," and 2) see everything through a political lens, they start reporting that the pope "may have signaled a shift in tone" or "may be setting up a change in policy," etc., as though he were a senator "pivoting" on an issue to gain a few points in the polls. But of course, it was nothing of the kind.
So, guys, a few helpful hints here. First, learn your facts: when given an assignment on a religious story, do your homework, read up on the issues and doctrines involved, and don't always go to the same three dissident priests for quotes. Second, stop thinking everyone is a political schemer grasping for power; you'll sleep much better at night when you realize not everyone is out to get what they can for themselves.
You have a responsibility to the public: you provide the data from which people in this free republic shape their conclusions. The least you can do is give them accurate info.
The media hubbub in the last few days over Pope Francis' comments to reporters while flying back from World Youth Day has demonstrated once again that, by and large, the news media knows about as much about religion as I do about internal combustion engines: that is, not much. Why is this? I can think of a few reasons.
First, journalists are primarily educated in the field of public events reporting. Anything that involves a basic who-what-when-where-why-how breakdown, they can do pretty well: "two people were injured on Mulberry Street Thursday morning in a freak gardening accident that has some questioning the practice of marketing chainsaws as lawn trimmers," and so forth. Easy enough. Anything that requires a little specialized knowledge usually requires a specialty reporter: our science correspondent, our sports reporter, etc. But news bureaus are getting smaller these days, meaning that specialty topics are being covered by non-specialists. This seems to be most true with religion reporting (or perhaps just appears to be so to me because it's something I know a little about), and the result is often pretty shoddy. The website GetReligion is dedicated to bringing to light these sorts of poorly told tales and is filled with examples of reporters misrepresenting the most basic of Christian beliefs (the best are always at Christmas and Easter, when reporters try to explain what mysteries are being celebrated--it would be hilarious if it weren't so sad)--never mind the subtleties and nuances of, say, moral theology or sexual ethics, or the all-important distinction between the sinner and the sin. They often just plain don't know what they're talking about.
This leads to our second point. Before they might gain a specialty (assuming they aren't a specialist-turned-journalist), usually most reporters are encouraged to be well-versed enough in politics to enable them to report on the important events of the day, so that political reporting becomes less a specialty than a standard modus operandi for the reporter. And because most reporters are trained in politics, they tend to see every story as a political story, a story about groups struggling for power or influence. Look at the reporting on global warming, for example: it's much less about any of the science involved and much more about various political pressure groups or international scientific bodies vying for the nation's attention. Too often, it's the same with religious reporting.
Reporters tend to view religious groups, such as the Catholic Church, solely as political organizations that have "policies" and "agendas" and do "messaging"; they definitely do not view the Church as the organized body of believers in Jesus Christ, convened under the headship of Peter among us, preaching the Gospel and teaching the truth for the salvation of souls. (Though to play devil's advocate for a moment, the Church does have a bureaucratic structure and does, in fine Italian fashion, have in-fighting between various offices at times, so the press can't be entirely blamed for treating it like any other organization on occasion.)
To the point: when Pope Francis makes comments on the Church's pastoral responsibility toward homosexual persons, on the importance of distinguishing the sin from the sinner, on the reality of the forgiveness of sins and the duty to recognize that fact in people's lives, he is simply expressing, as a true shepherd of his sheep, what the Church's Magisterium says in a dozen other places. But because most of these reporters 1) do not know the Church's teaching on this topic and think the Church "hates gays or something," and 2) see everything through a political lens, they start reporting that the pope "may have signaled a shift in tone" or "may be setting up a change in policy," etc., as though he were a senator "pivoting" on an issue to gain a few points in the polls. But of course, it was nothing of the kind.
So, guys, a few helpful hints here. First, learn your facts: when given an assignment on a religious story, do your homework, read up on the issues and doctrines involved, and don't always go to the same three dissident priests for quotes. Second, stop thinking everyone is a political schemer grasping for power; you'll sleep much better at night when you realize not everyone is out to get what they can for themselves.
You have a responsibility to the public: you provide the data from which people in this free republic shape their conclusions. The least you can do is give them accurate info.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
A Scotsman Says It Right
Yesterday Pope Francis named Monsignor Leo Cushley as the archbishop-elect of St. Andrews and Edinburgh in Scotland. I found this interesting because I'm an Anglophile (though I suppose technically that would refer just to England... perhaps I'm also a Scotophile? Is that even a thing? I do have the flag of St. Andrew on my wall, as well as the Scottish royal standard....) but there was a little tidbit from the news article I read which I thought was worth sharing even with those who aren't as interested in the comings and goings in the northernmost reaches of the island of Great Britain.
The archbishop-elect concluded his press release with the following:
Notice that he did not mention board meetings or capital campaigns among his priorities. These are crucial things, often necessary to the smooth functioning of a large institution such as a diocese, but they are not first things. They are dependent upon the things he did mention. You raise funds to repair a church because that's where the sacraments take place. You have meetings to discuss a new school because that's where the faith is passed on.
First things come first, and they deserve pride of place. I'm glad that the archbishop-elect put them where they ought to be. I hope other bishops do the same.
The archbishop-elect concluded his press release with the following:
"My first task is to preach the good news, Christ crucified and risen from the dead, to confirm my brother priests in their Catholic faith and ministry, and to be a loving, simple, wise shepherd to the flock that has been entrusted to me."Wow! I don't think I've ever seen such a pithy and punchy summation of the role of a bishop in the Church. His primary function, his most important role, at the top of his to-do list, is to preach the good news of Christ, who was slain and now lives forever, who has won victory over sin and death, and who offers us eternal life if we believe in him and live in him. Serving as the high priest of the local church over which he is head, he has the responsibility of strengthening those who serve with and under him in the preaching of the good news and the service of the new dispensation, exercising the priesthood of Jesus Christ and bringing the grace of God into people's lives via the proclamation of the Gospel and the celebration of the sacraments. He sees himself first and foremost as shepherd, the servant of the Good Shepherd, informed with charity and wisdom and simplicity of heart, leading his flock to the pastures of paradise. No minor task.
Notice that he did not mention board meetings or capital campaigns among his priorities. These are crucial things, often necessary to the smooth functioning of a large institution such as a diocese, but they are not first things. They are dependent upon the things he did mention. You raise funds to repair a church because that's where the sacraments take place. You have meetings to discuss a new school because that's where the faith is passed on.
First things come first, and they deserve pride of place. I'm glad that the archbishop-elect put them where they ought to be. I hope other bishops do the same.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Habemus Papam! First Impressions
Pope Francis has been on the job for all of a week, but in some ways it feels like a year. Perhaps I should clarify: in the brief span of seven days, a boatload of punditry has spewed forth opining as to what this man's pontificate will be like, or should be like; how it compares, or will compare, to his predecessors; what decisions he will make, or should make; what his emphases will be, or should be; etc. I find this tiresome and premature. Are we so impatient that we can't simply wait and see and pray for this man who has been handed a most awesome responsibility? Give the guy a breather!
That said, as a few people have asked me for my impressions of the new Holy Father, I will give them, trying my best to avoid doing that which I have criticized above.
I loved the joke he cracked about the cardinals going to the end of the world to find a bishop of Rome. There was a touch of humility to it, and the half-grin on his face as he said it added to it.
He asked the people in St. Peter's Square to take a silent moment to pray that God bless him in his ministry. Very fitting for the Servant of the Servants of God.
He strikes me as affable and amiable and personable, something we tend to like in public figures.
His penchant for going "off-script," for suddenly diving into crowds to greet and bless people, seems a truly fatherly attitude.
I dislike the way in which some people are using Francis' election to take shots at Benedict, just as I disliked people using Benedict's election to take shots at John Paul. Every man, and certainly every pope, is different, with a unique personality, with particular characteristics. Opposing traits can each be good in their own way (as long as they're morally licit): the jovial, convivial type is not automatically superior to the shy, quiet type, nor is the professorial sort necessarily better than the natural preacher, nor is the casual fellow above the formal -- nor is it entirely impossible to find all of these traits in the same person but expressed in different moments.
Now for my one small bit of hopeful prognostication:
For decades in the Church in the Western world, one major division within the Church has been between what might be generally labeled as "peace & justice" folks and "personal morality" folks. There are those whose focus is on aiding the poor and denouncing violence, as the Church has always done, and those whose focus is on calling others (and themselves) to moral rectitude, particularly in the realm of sexuality, as the Church has always done. Both are promoting one element of the Catholic faith, but both tend to neglect the other, and in some cases even to dissent from it: I know a lot of P&J people who think the Church must change on abortion, contraception, fornication, re-defining marriage, etc.; and I know a lot of PM people who are far too eager to use the death penalty or go to war or who think torture is perfectly acceptable as long as you're torturing the right people. And worst of all, these two sides seem to get so stuck in their ways as to think, for example, that one couldn't possibly be both a lover of the poor and against gay marriage.
Pope Francis proves this notion wrong, and shows us how we can bring these two pieces back together. This is a man who washes the feet of AIDS victims and publicly opposes his country's attempts to re-define marriage. This is a man who denies himself the comforts of office so as to live in solidarity with the poor and who also denounces contraception as not in accord with our nature. See, folks? See how naturally these go together? See how easy this is?
St. Francis of Assisi, in whose honor the new pope took his regnal name, had a great love of the poor and a profound devotion to the Eucharist. He was a man of peace who, when he went to the Sultan, did not deliver a pluralistic message of "I'm OK, you're OK," but, out of love for Christ and neighbor, tried to convert him from Islam to Christianity. He was a man who encouraged the lay faithful to greater holiness and who had a deep respect for priests and gave complete obedience to the Holy Father. Yes, these things do go together. They're supposed to. It's called being Catholic. May Pope Francis show all of us how to be better, fuller Catholics.
That said, as a few people have asked me for my impressions of the new Holy Father, I will give them, trying my best to avoid doing that which I have criticized above.
I loved the joke he cracked about the cardinals going to the end of the world to find a bishop of Rome. There was a touch of humility to it, and the half-grin on his face as he said it added to it.
He asked the people in St. Peter's Square to take a silent moment to pray that God bless him in his ministry. Very fitting for the Servant of the Servants of God.
He strikes me as affable and amiable and personable, something we tend to like in public figures.
His penchant for going "off-script," for suddenly diving into crowds to greet and bless people, seems a truly fatherly attitude.
I dislike the way in which some people are using Francis' election to take shots at Benedict, just as I disliked people using Benedict's election to take shots at John Paul. Every man, and certainly every pope, is different, with a unique personality, with particular characteristics. Opposing traits can each be good in their own way (as long as they're morally licit): the jovial, convivial type is not automatically superior to the shy, quiet type, nor is the professorial sort necessarily better than the natural preacher, nor is the casual fellow above the formal -- nor is it entirely impossible to find all of these traits in the same person but expressed in different moments.
Now for my one small bit of hopeful prognostication:
For decades in the Church in the Western world, one major division within the Church has been between what might be generally labeled as "peace & justice" folks and "personal morality" folks. There are those whose focus is on aiding the poor and denouncing violence, as the Church has always done, and those whose focus is on calling others (and themselves) to moral rectitude, particularly in the realm of sexuality, as the Church has always done. Both are promoting one element of the Catholic faith, but both tend to neglect the other, and in some cases even to dissent from it: I know a lot of P&J people who think the Church must change on abortion, contraception, fornication, re-defining marriage, etc.; and I know a lot of PM people who are far too eager to use the death penalty or go to war or who think torture is perfectly acceptable as long as you're torturing the right people. And worst of all, these two sides seem to get so stuck in their ways as to think, for example, that one couldn't possibly be both a lover of the poor and against gay marriage.
Pope Francis proves this notion wrong, and shows us how we can bring these two pieces back together. This is a man who washes the feet of AIDS victims and publicly opposes his country's attempts to re-define marriage. This is a man who denies himself the comforts of office so as to live in solidarity with the poor and who also denounces contraception as not in accord with our nature. See, folks? See how naturally these go together? See how easy this is?
St. Francis of Assisi, in whose honor the new pope took his regnal name, had a great love of the poor and a profound devotion to the Eucharist. He was a man of peace who, when he went to the Sultan, did not deliver a pluralistic message of "I'm OK, you're OK," but, out of love for Christ and neighbor, tried to convert him from Islam to Christianity. He was a man who encouraged the lay faithful to greater holiness and who had a deep respect for priests and gave complete obedience to the Holy Father. Yes, these things do go together. They're supposed to. It's called being Catholic. May Pope Francis show all of us how to be better, fuller Catholics.
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