I've had a number of discussions with people of my parents' or grandparents' generation who consider themselves faithful to the Church's teaching who have uttered rank heresies: we have to earn our salvation through good works; unbaptized babies will go to Hell; only Catholics can go to heaven. When I try to correct their mistaken notions, they reply defensively, "Well, that's what the nuns taught us when I was growing up."
My interlocutor here is invoking the spotless reputation of the "pre-Vatican II nun," in full habit, always faithful to the Church's teaching, praying for our souls whenever she isn't teaching our children, the bulwark of the local parish in the days before the Council allegedly turned everything upside-down and changed the Church's teaching, etc. Surely Sister wouldn't have taught us something that wasn't so? She wasn't like, you know, those nuns we have today.
First of all, there are many good and holy and faithful religious sisters today, just as there were then. And there are heretical and unfaithful nuns today, just as there were then.
We also have to consider the possibility that you have remembered incorrectly or you initially misunderstood what it was that the sisters taught you. Maybe you took their exhortations toward good works to mean that they are the mechanism by which we are saved, instead of that by which we are built up in holiness and closeness to God. Maybe you mistook the theological theory of the Limbo of unborn babies to be a hellish place. Maybe you thought when Sister talked about all the benefits of the Catholic faith (the grace of the sacraments, the fullness of the truth), you thought she meant that without these things it was impossible for anyone to be saved. Perhaps that was it?
And then there's this, a thought quite likely anathema to many: perhaps Sister taught you wrong. Maybe she was too stringent in her theology. Maybe she went beyond what the Church officially taught and believed. Maybe you weren't taught what you should have been. We could give the benefit of the doubt and assume a good intention, though. Perhaps Sister, living in a predominately Protestant country that openly discriminated against Catholics, got a little defensive and pushed a little beyond what the Church taught, in order to distinguish "us from them" and establish a firm identity with firm teaching: "No! Earn your way to heaven! Only baptized babies can get in! Only Catholics!" A bad result, but people can be excused at least a little for what they do when their backs are against the wall; or if not excused, at least we can sympathize.
Now, you might say to me, "Nick, you're a post-Vatican II child, you don't know all the changes that happened! That's what the Church used to teach! Things ain't the way they used to be."
Dude. I can read.
I've read theology manuals from before the Council, the ones used in seminaries and universities. They do not say that we earn salvation by works. They do not say that unbaptized babies go to Hell. They do not say that only Catholics can be saved. Indeed, they say pretty much exactly what the documents of the Second Vatican Council and subsequent teachings say. There are shifts in tone and emphasis and certain thoughts are developed more, but those are not substantial changes. The faith is essentially the same as it ever was, expanded and deepened but never contradictory.
If Sister taught you those things back then, she was wrong. Let's presume the error is in your memory and not in her instruction. Yes, the Church looks rather different on the outside in many ways compared to then. People hear things put in a different way than when they grew up, and they wonder what the change was about, and why it happened, and they long for the certainty they once had when Sister taught them such hard and fast doctrine. But let's make sure, in our search for certainty, that we're not certainly wrong.
Showing posts with label Vatican II. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vatican II. Show all posts
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
Clericalism, Part Deux
I wrote a piece a few weeks back on the notion of women cardinals and the clericalism inherent in that desire. The essence of clericalism is the assumption that status and power determine one's worth in the Church, a far cry from Jesus' insistence that the meek will inherit the earth and the childlike will enter the kingdom of God. This attitude seems to be animating the call for female clergy or cardinals, and it is not a healthy one.
A few other examples of clericalism that I've encountered recently came to mind, and focus on matters liturgical.
Once while at our daily Mass, I noticed that one concelebrating priest, a visitor, was wearing a large ring which looked rather like a bishop's ring. The celebrant mentioned during the Mass that we were honored to have a bishop visiting us, and gestured to the man whose ring I had spotted. This confused me. According to the Church's liturgical rubrics (i.e. its rules and instructions for how Mass is to be celebrated), a bishop should not concelebrate at a Mass celebrated by a priest, but rather should sit "in choir" (i.e. dressed in simple liturgical robes, seated in a place of honor, and participating in the Mass much as a regular congregant would, but with certain differences), because the bishop is of a higher order than a priest--he (usually) heads a whole diocese, he ordains priests and bishops, he is a successor to the apostles. It would be like a CEO sitting in on a meeting run by a junior VP and acting like he's just another employee. When I asked an elder member of my community why this bishop didn't sit in choir, he smiled and said, "He's a bishop; he can do whatever he wants."
Another time, I attended a Mass being offered for a special intention (a justice issue of some sort, I think), and it was presided over by a visiting bishop. But rather than use the readings for the day, or some other readings from the lectionary, the bishop chose a few texts he thought fitting and had them read from a Bible. Now, the General Instruction of the Roman Missal does say, "In Masses with special groups, the priest is allowed to choose texts more suited to the particular celebration," but it adds the caveat "provided they are taken from the texts of an approved lectionary." It does not seem permitted to simply choose Scriptural texts you like and use them in the liturgy. When I asked someone about this, I was told, "He's a bishop; he can do whatever he wants."
Two aberrations from the Church's liturgy (granted, they are relatively minor) are given the same response: "He's a bishop; he can do whatever he wants." This, my friends, is clericalism. The liturgy belongs to the whole Church, and thus the competent authority has taken great care to set certain boundaries to liturgical practice (while allowing for a certain amount of freedom to adapt to particular situations) so that the liturgy is recognizable from place to place and thus easy for the faithful to participate in, and so that the words and actions of the liturgy accurately reflect the truths of the Catholic faith--every movement and positioning, every line spoken, communicates something of the faith. Yet a certain mindset, a clericalist mindset, would hold that because a bishop or priest is in a position of authority, they may do what they please, and alter the liturgy as they see fit. Might makes right. But no! The Second Vatican Council says,
Bishops just as much as anyone else are beholden to the Church's laws, traditions, and beliefs. Their place in the Church as successors to the apostles is to pass on the Good News of salvation, to teach the teaching of Christ, to care for the flock entrusted to them, to sanctify them by the sacraments; and all of this in continuity with the Church's tradition, its long memory, its ever-ancient and ever-new faith. But some, the clericalists, take it that the bishop decides by his own whim what is true and what is not; that he commands and rules his people according to his caprice rather than tending them for their own good; that the sacraments may be molded and adjusted and overhauled according to their tastes. This is false. Power is not for the exercise of one's will or desires; power is for furthering the flourishing of one's self or those in one's care. Not even the pope is a truly absolute monarch in the Church, for he, too, is answerable to revelation, tradition, and to God. He is the servus servorum Dei, the "servant of the servants of God." As is every cleric.
A few other examples of clericalism that I've encountered recently came to mind, and focus on matters liturgical.
Once while at our daily Mass, I noticed that one concelebrating priest, a visitor, was wearing a large ring which looked rather like a bishop's ring. The celebrant mentioned during the Mass that we were honored to have a bishop visiting us, and gestured to the man whose ring I had spotted. This confused me. According to the Church's liturgical rubrics (i.e. its rules and instructions for how Mass is to be celebrated), a bishop should not concelebrate at a Mass celebrated by a priest, but rather should sit "in choir" (i.e. dressed in simple liturgical robes, seated in a place of honor, and participating in the Mass much as a regular congregant would, but with certain differences), because the bishop is of a higher order than a priest--he (usually) heads a whole diocese, he ordains priests and bishops, he is a successor to the apostles. It would be like a CEO sitting in on a meeting run by a junior VP and acting like he's just another employee. When I asked an elder member of my community why this bishop didn't sit in choir, he smiled and said, "He's a bishop; he can do whatever he wants."
Another time, I attended a Mass being offered for a special intention (a justice issue of some sort, I think), and it was presided over by a visiting bishop. But rather than use the readings for the day, or some other readings from the lectionary, the bishop chose a few texts he thought fitting and had them read from a Bible. Now, the General Instruction of the Roman Missal does say, "In Masses with special groups, the priest is allowed to choose texts more suited to the particular celebration," but it adds the caveat "provided they are taken from the texts of an approved lectionary." It does not seem permitted to simply choose Scriptural texts you like and use them in the liturgy. When I asked someone about this, I was told, "He's a bishop; he can do whatever he wants."
Two aberrations from the Church's liturgy (granted, they are relatively minor) are given the same response: "He's a bishop; he can do whatever he wants." This, my friends, is clericalism. The liturgy belongs to the whole Church, and thus the competent authority has taken great care to set certain boundaries to liturgical practice (while allowing for a certain amount of freedom to adapt to particular situations) so that the liturgy is recognizable from place to place and thus easy for the faithful to participate in, and so that the words and actions of the liturgy accurately reflect the truths of the Catholic faith--every movement and positioning, every line spoken, communicates something of the faith. Yet a certain mindset, a clericalist mindset, would hold that because a bishop or priest is in a position of authority, they may do what they please, and alter the liturgy as they see fit. Might makes right. But no! The Second Vatican Council says,
Regulation of the sacred liturgy depends solely on the authority of the Church, that is, on the Apostolic See and, as laws may determine, on the bishop. In virtue of power conceded by the law, the regulation of the liturgy within certain defined limits belongs also to various kinds of competent territorial bodies of bishops legitimately established. Therefore no other person, even if he be a priest, may add, remove, or change anything in the liturgy on his own authority. (Sacrosanctum Concilium 22)Nor can any individual bishop, as the Code of Canon Law says, "no one on personal authority may add, remove or change anything in them." (CIC 846)
Bishops just as much as anyone else are beholden to the Church's laws, traditions, and beliefs. Their place in the Church as successors to the apostles is to pass on the Good News of salvation, to teach the teaching of Christ, to care for the flock entrusted to them, to sanctify them by the sacraments; and all of this in continuity with the Church's tradition, its long memory, its ever-ancient and ever-new faith. But some, the clericalists, take it that the bishop decides by his own whim what is true and what is not; that he commands and rules his people according to his caprice rather than tending them for their own good; that the sacraments may be molded and adjusted and overhauled according to their tastes. This is false. Power is not for the exercise of one's will or desires; power is for furthering the flourishing of one's self or those in one's care. Not even the pope is a truly absolute monarch in the Church, for he, too, is answerable to revelation, tradition, and to God. He is the servus servorum Dei, the "servant of the servants of God." As is every cleric.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Go to Mass!
Q: Is it a mortal sin to skip Mass on Sunday or a holy day of obligation?
Condition One: is attending Mass on Sunday and holy days of obligation a serious matter? Let's consult the Catechism. Please pay attention to the first part, as it tells us the reason for the conclusion that follows.
You are never more Catholic than when you go to Mass. As the Second Vatican Council tells us, the Mass is "the source and summit of the Christian life" (Lumen Gentium 11). It is the highest point we reach in our lives on earth as Christians, and it is the main wellspring from which we draw the gift of God's grace, His very life, which enlivens us and strengthens us and makes us holy. No other moment in Christian practice compares with uniting our worship of and prayer to God to the sacrifice of His Son as re-presented on the altar at Mass. This is our spiritual nourishment. And just as it is harmful to us to forgo bodily nourishment, so, the Church informs us, it is harmful to us (i.e. sinful) to forgo our spiritual nourishment. Skipping Mass is like skipping a week's worth of meals. To commit a mortal sin is to cut yourself off from God's life and grace through your action: there is no clearer way of cutting the lifeline than refusing our nourishment. God commands us to worship Him not because He needs it, but because, as I have just been saying, we need it; and the Church legislates this for the same reason. This is serious, which is why the Church judges it a grave sin.
Now, whether one "deliberately fails" in this matter will be determined by the other two variables of the equation, but let us acknowledge that Condition One, the nature of the act itself, is fulfilled.
Condition Two: if you were to skip Mass on a Sunday or holy day of obligation, did you know that you have a duty to attend Mass on those days? I think you'd be hard pressed to find a Catholic of any degree of devotion who won't admit that you "should" or "ought to" attend Mass on Sundays, "ideally." Keeping the Third Commandment by celebrating the day of the Lord's Resurrection is something that's pretty well engraved into our minds. And the phrase "holy day of obligation" is pretty unambiguous; the term "optional obligation" is just contradictory. Now, it's possible that a person could run into someone they trust, e.g. a priest, nun, friend, etc., who tells them, "Well, you don't have to go every Sunday, it's not that big of a deal, as long as you're a good person and you believe in God," or something to that effect, and that person acts on that in good faith. That person's culpability could be lessened in that case: "I trusted them and they led me astray!" But I think most folks know what they're supposed to do. For most of us, Condition Two is met.
There are many people, I dare say, who meet these three conditions. Every Christmas and Easter we see churches filled to two or three times their normal capacity by Catholics who don't usually attend during the rest of the year. Now, I cannot know any of their particular circumstances or knowledge of their own actions; I don't know what may be keeping them from Mass every other Sunday and holy day, so I could not say, "They are all in mortal sin," nor is it my place to. My purpose here is not to scold, but to inform. We have a serious responsibility and a wonderful opportunity in attending the sacred liturgy. Go to Mass if you can. If you haven't been to Mass for a while, go to confession, and receive the gift of God's forgiveness. God is waiting there to give you Himself. What more could you want?
First, let's define our terms.
By "mortal sin," the Catechism says:
1857 For a sin to be mortal, three conditions must together be met: "Mortal sin is sin whose object is grave matter and which is also committed with full knowledge and deliberate consent."
Again:
1) it is a grave (i.e. serious) offense;
2) it is done with full knowledge (i.e. you knew it was wrong);
3) it is done with full consent (i.e. you weren't compelled).
1857 For a sin to be mortal, three conditions must together be met: "Mortal sin is sin whose object is grave matter and which is also committed with full knowledge and deliberate consent."
Again:
1) it is a grave (i.e. serious) offense;
2) it is done with full knowledge (i.e. you knew it was wrong);
3) it is done with full consent (i.e. you weren't compelled).
By "skip Mass," we mean choosing not to go to Mass even though there was nothing preventing you from going (e.g. work, illness, being 2,000 miles from a Catholic church, etc.).
By "Sunday or holy day of obligation," I think we all know what that refers to.
Second, let's examine our proposition: does the proposed action meet the conditions for mortal sin? If we answer positively for all three, then yes.
Condition One: is attending Mass on Sunday and holy days of obligation a serious matter? Let's consult the Catechism. Please pay attention to the first part, as it tells us the reason for the conclusion that follows.
2181 The Sunday Eucharist is the foundation and confirmation of all Christian practice. For this reason the faithful are obliged to participate in the Eucharist on days of obligation, unless excused for a serious reason (for example, illness, the care of infants) or dispensed by their own pastor. Those who deliberately fail in this obligation commit a grave sin.
You are never more Catholic than when you go to Mass. As the Second Vatican Council tells us, the Mass is "the source and summit of the Christian life" (Lumen Gentium 11). It is the highest point we reach in our lives on earth as Christians, and it is the main wellspring from which we draw the gift of God's grace, His very life, which enlivens us and strengthens us and makes us holy. No other moment in Christian practice compares with uniting our worship of and prayer to God to the sacrifice of His Son as re-presented on the altar at Mass. This is our spiritual nourishment. And just as it is harmful to us to forgo bodily nourishment, so, the Church informs us, it is harmful to us (i.e. sinful) to forgo our spiritual nourishment. Skipping Mass is like skipping a week's worth of meals. To commit a mortal sin is to cut yourself off from God's life and grace through your action: there is no clearer way of cutting the lifeline than refusing our nourishment. God commands us to worship Him not because He needs it, but because, as I have just been saying, we need it; and the Church legislates this for the same reason. This is serious, which is why the Church judges it a grave sin.
Now, whether one "deliberately fails" in this matter will be determined by the other two variables of the equation, but let us acknowledge that Condition One, the nature of the act itself, is fulfilled.
Condition Two: if you were to skip Mass on a Sunday or holy day of obligation, did you know that you have a duty to attend Mass on those days? I think you'd be hard pressed to find a Catholic of any degree of devotion who won't admit that you "should" or "ought to" attend Mass on Sundays, "ideally." Keeping the Third Commandment by celebrating the day of the Lord's Resurrection is something that's pretty well engraved into our minds. And the phrase "holy day of obligation" is pretty unambiguous; the term "optional obligation" is just contradictory. Now, it's possible that a person could run into someone they trust, e.g. a priest, nun, friend, etc., who tells them, "Well, you don't have to go every Sunday, it's not that big of a deal, as long as you're a good person and you believe in God," or something to that effect, and that person acts on that in good faith. That person's culpability could be lessened in that case: "I trusted them and they led me astray!" But I think most folks know what they're supposed to do. For most of us, Condition Two is met.
Condition Three: if you were to skip Mass on a Sunday or holy day of obligation, that is, choose not to go to Mass when you had the ability to go, were you doing it with full consent? Was there anything constraining you from attending? Were you being forced to work through every available Mass time? Were you too ill either to get up or such that you didn't want to risk infecting other people? Did you have to take care of young children or the sick or elderly? Were you being held hostage by terrorists, aliens, or Jehovah's Witnesses? No? Then we've met Condition Three.
There are many people, I dare say, who meet these three conditions. Every Christmas and Easter we see churches filled to two or three times their normal capacity by Catholics who don't usually attend during the rest of the year. Now, I cannot know any of their particular circumstances or knowledge of their own actions; I don't know what may be keeping them from Mass every other Sunday and holy day, so I could not say, "They are all in mortal sin," nor is it my place to. My purpose here is not to scold, but to inform. We have a serious responsibility and a wonderful opportunity in attending the sacred liturgy. Go to Mass if you can. If you haven't been to Mass for a while, go to confession, and receive the gift of God's forgiveness. God is waiting there to give you Himself. What more could you want?
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