You Take 16 Nuns And What Do You Get?

How to complete the phrase making up the title to this post so that it matches with the song made famous by Tennessee Ernie Ford?  In the circumstances, I suppose something like:  "An undersized, dubious Catholic sect."  How's that?

It's unusual for me to post about the Church twice in a single month, but I find myself fascinated by the news about 16 Spanish nuns, of the Order of St. Clare or "the Poor Clares", who have declared themselves separated from Rome and their putative superiors in the well-established Catholic hierarchy, thereby becoming a self-described sect.  The Church has had a number of sects and heretics over the centuries, but this one must be remarkable at least for its small size and the fact that it's made up of nuns.

Instead of the Pontifex Maximus (as I enjoy calling the Pope) and their duly appointed bishop, the nuns have pledged their allegiance, as it were, to a person who calls himself a bishop, Pablo de Rojas Sanchez-Franco, who was excommunicated by the Church in 2019.  The declaration or manifesto of the nuns in which their schism from the Church was announced makes it clear that they object not only to the current occupant of the Throne of St. Peter, but to all of those who have sat in it since Pius XII.

From these facts it may be inferred that the sectarian nuns are very conservative Catholics, or traditional Catholics, or perhaps best described as Catholics who utterly reject the reforms which have taken place since 1958, when Pius departed this sinful world.  And if what we read about the manifesto is correct, that certainly is the case.  I'll admit I haven't read it, and must do so.  In fact I will do so now, if I can locate it via Google.

Well, perhaps not.  It seems to be 70 pages long, and I'm having trouble finding it.  I'll read the letter to which it's attached instead.

No, I won't.  As far as I can ascertain, both the manifesto and the letter are only available in Spanish.  Perhaps there'll be a translation someday.  No doubt I won't be interested in reading it then.

There are indications in some articles I've read that the manifesto may echo criticisms of clerics of the Church's authorization of the blessing of same sex marriages.  It's uncertain whether that's true, as it may be the person who wrote the articles merely refer to that as an example of dissent in the Church.  The nuns presumably condemn this practice as well, by implication if not expressly, its authorization being given post-Pius XII.  Regardless, it appears the Sisters complain that in general, Catholic pastors have failed their flocks, leaving them exposed to the (homosexual?) wolves.

What we see here may be another example of the claimed tendency of modern Catholics to desire a return to the "halcyon days" of the Church, i.e. the days pre-Vatican II, which has been remarked on by some as I noted in a prior post.  If that's the case, this desire goes beyond the aesthetic (and perhaps sentimental) preference I have for the old forms and rituals of the Church, which I think is understandable given the dreariness of its current ritual.  It is instead, I think, a sign of a sort of atavism among Catholics.  There is it seems a desire to revert to the past, not only as to form but substance.

I wonder if this desire is a sign that many of us today seek certainty more than anything else.  Certainty of thought and doctrine, even if that means disregard of what's taking place, perhaps even the disregard of what facts and reason indicate or suggest is true, or regarding the nature of the world with which we must interact.  Adherence to a doctrine already established and unquestionable creates a sense of comfort and stability, lacking in our all-too-interesting times.  It also instills a sense of fellowship; those who accept the doctrine and the lore are part of a community, no longer alone in the face of seeming chaos.  

What can compete with such a sense of solace?

  

Blessings in Disguise

Every now and then, I comment in this blog on news related to the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church ("OHCAC") that took up much of my time in my increasingly distant youth, though it now does so only sporadically.  At the moment, I'm interested in the controversy surrounding Fiducia Supplicans, which it seems is a declaration on Catholic doctrine issued with the support of the Pontifex Maximus allowing priests to bless...well, I'm not sure what, frankly.  It seems, though, to allow blessings of a sort to be made to couples engaged in an irregular or same-sex relationship.  This sort of blessing doesn't constitute a validation of the relationship, however, which remains forbidden.

I admit to some confusion.  I'm a lawyer, and so am not phased by distinctions which may baffle normal people.  I can accept that a relationship may be recognized without being validated, or sanctioned.  I can also accept that those involved in a relationship may be blessed though the relationship itself may be forbidden (well, for religious purposes in any case--religions forbid so much after all).  Sinners may be blessed by my understanding, so I suppose that, if OHCAC determines being in a same-sex relationship is sinful, the sinning participant may yet be blessed by a priest.  The problem, if any, arises when the relationship itself is blessed, it seems.  That at least is the position being taken by those functionaries of the Church who object to the declaration.

Let me be clear.  I have no dog in this race.  I don't think such relationships are sinful.  Priest may and do bless pets, which I find charming.  They bless things, and places.  So be it.  I can't recall whether the Gospels or any part of what's considered the New Testament condemns these relationships.  I'd be surprised if Jesus ever directly addressed them, as I think sexual relationships and sex in general weren't matters of great concern to him.  That they are to Catholic clergy is, alas, all too obvious.  This particular kind of sexual relationship is in any case thought to be contrary to doctrine or even Scripture by those who oppose Francis in this matter. 

I think there's a problem with this position, if it is the fact that one is involved in such a relationship that constitutes the sin.  If persons A and B are sinners because they're involved in a same-sex relationship, but nevertheless may be blessed individually, what is it that forbids their relationship from being blessed?  That a relationship exists must be taken as given; that's why those involved in it are sinners (though they are no doubt sinners for other reasons as well; this is assumed by OHCAC, of course).  Is it believed that the relationship is distinct in some sense from those participating in it?   But how can that be the case?  Without them, there would be no relationship to be condemned.

I've seen it claimed that blessing the forbidden union would be like blessing an abortion clinic.  Although, according to some, a woman who has an abortion may be blessed as a sinner in some circumstances, an abortion clinic may not be blessed; such is the argument as I understand it.

The analogy strikes me as less than perfect, however.  A relationship is not a clinic.  If it is a sin to have an abortion, it must be a sin for a doctor to be involved in the abortion as well it is a sin for a woman to obtain one.  There's a doctor-patient relationship involved; both are sinners if having an abortion is a sin.  Yet it seems both, as sinners, may be blessed.  Is it the doctor-patient relationship that is condemned rather than the clinic?

Well, it's an interesting dispute, but happily one which need not concern us, or at least me, except perhaps as part of the history of an ancient and still in some ways fascinating institution. It's unfortunate that sex is so much a part of it and its concerns, and for that matter its own sins, both of omission and commission.  

 

The Vatican Just Says No

There once was a species called human,

Who thought God cared what they were doin',

But the truth is He said that "For me, they've been dead,

Since the Garden of Eden stopped bloomin'."

That's just a limerick of my creation which I thought up not long ago in a different context, but it seems appropriate in light of the Vatican's announcement that it can't "bless" homosexual unions.  I was going to write that it seems appropriate so near to St. Patrick's day, but a gnawing sense of doubt combined with a quick search of the Internet reveals that the limerick didn't necessarily have its origins in Ireland, though there is an Irish city which bears the name. 

I've noted before that our religions are not unnaturally, but still unreasonably, based on the assumption that if there is a God, that God is fascinated, perhaps even obsessed, with humanity.  Given the vastness of the universe, this seems unlikely.  To maintain that we're God's sole or greatest concern is preposterous, as we're mere specks on a speck among an unimaginably large host of specks which make up what God is said to have created.

Even more unreasonable (I think) is the belief that God is particularly concerned with our sexual conduct.  Any God which lays down rules governing who we have sex with and how we have sex is a very small, petty, and peculiar God indeed.  It follows that those of us who believe there are such rules and seek to enforce them are even smaller, more petty and peculiar.

And so we come to this latest declaration by the Vatican, endorsed, we're told, by the Pontifex Maximus himself.  The One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church welcomes those who are gay ("homosexually inclined" is the wording used, I think) in a kind of grudging fashion, according to the declaration, but no union of gays may be blessed because only the sacramental may be blessed.  The most relevant sacrament is marriage and marriage, as we know, may only be between a male and a female.  Thus, no blessed gay unions and as sex is inappropriate outside of marriage, all gay sex is inappropriate as well, and may never be appropriate.  

This comes from having a Busybody God, a name I've used in the past in this blog.  But as you may guess from the limerick at the top of this post, I find myself curious regarding why such a God--the kind that is worshipped by the Abrahamic religions--would care what we do, if we accept the doctrine of Original Sin.

Under that doctrine, we're at the least tainted by the sin committed by eating of the Tree of Knowledge by our ancestors, the first humans, which caused them to be expelled from the Garden of Eden.  There are several versions of the doctrine of Original Sin.  The most draconian of them has us damned from birth.  We may nonetheless be saved if God chooses through the medium of Grace, but that's in God's sole discretion.  Then there is the version that proposes that we're cleansed of the sin by baptism.  Another version is that Jesus saved us from Original Sin through his sacrifice.  There may be more versions, I just don't know.  But even the kinder, gentler versions I know of provide that all of us are born with the proclivity to sin as a result of the first (notably heterosexual) humans.

So, we're either damned or damnable from the moment we are born.  If that's the case, though, why does God even bother to peer at us suspiciously, and why did he bother to dream up and impose the many regulations it's claimed he imposed on us after the Garden of Eden was shut down?  He would have written us off after the Original Sin was committed, I would think, as we all would be sinners of necessity thereafter.  Can it be the case that he decided in the first century C.E. that we may in one manner or another avoid the curse of Original Sin, and so appeared among us and induced us to create the sacrament of baptism sometime later?  What changed his mind?  Why are those who lived before then damned without recourse?  Why would he be so interested in what we do given that it's more likely than not that were going to sin anyway, being inherently inclined to sin?

The problems which arise from belief in such a personal God so fascinated with us aren't merely limited to those that result from the fact such a view is incredible, therefore.  They include those that arise when the doctrine which is inferred from that view is made and applied.

 

An Unspontaneous Joy

I was uncertain just what an "apostolic exhortation" is until the current Pontifex Maximus issued his Amoris Laetitia, which I've seen translated as "The Love of Joy."  It's apparently an encouragement, made by the Pontiff, that we or someone engage in conduct of a particular kind.  In this case, it appears that we are encouraged to act in a given way regarding the Family, or families and marriage.

Just where the "joy" comes in isn't immediately obvious to such as me.  Wouldn't "Love of the Family" or "Family Love" or "Joy of Marriage" have been more appropriate?  Laetitia, it seems, was a Roman goddess of joy, but this fact makes the relationship to families even less clear.  Love of joy is evidently for purposes of this exhortation at least related to marriage and the family in some sense.

But the document itself doesn't seem to evoke joy.  It is a massive, careful, studied exhortation.  One ceases reading it with a sense of relief, like the one I used to experience at the end of mass when we were told it was ended:  "The mass is ended, go in peace."  Then, I could genuinely say "Thanks be to God."  All this is not to condemn it, but merely to note it isn't particularly joyous. It is more in the way of a dissection of marriage and the family--more kindly, an analysis of them--than a celebration of them

Reading it, I'm reminded of how seemingly legal--even legalistic--papal pronouncements tend to be.  Scripture is cited much as legal precedents are in briefs and case law.  Sometimes, though, the citations are more perfunctory.  One has a sense of an author going through the motions or acting on compulsion, feeling called upon to mention some source even when the point being made isn't controversial.  Other times, the citation isn't clear authority on its face, but its "true meaning" is explained.  St. Paul is mentioned with some frequency, for example, and it's difficult to take the position that when he says a wife is to be subject to her husband this isn't the case and, moreover, God who inspired his writings didn't mean what Paul said although he said it.

It's encouraging in its way to see the Pope acknowledge that Paul was influenced by an unenlightened and primitive culture when he said certain things.  But how he was so influenced when also influenced by God can be puzzling.  One can understand God trying to work within a culture in order to be comprehended by mere humans, but it takes a considerable amount of speculation, even presumption, to contend that was what God was really doing, all appearances to the contrary.

Puzzling too, of course, is why the Pope or any Pope or priest, or even synod of priests or bishops, should pontificate, as it were, on marriage.  There's no question they experienced a family at some point, and perhaps remain part of one, but unless they were married before becoming part of the clergy they have never been married.  Presumably, they may have never experienced sexual relations with a woman.  What they know of marriage or sex or love or even joy between a man and a woman as husband and wife is therefore necessarily at second hand.  Why, then, do they speak of such things with such assurance?

It would seem that their view of marriage is necessarily abstract or idealized if not uninformed  And this would certainly seem to be true of this exhortation, as marriage and family is variously compared to the relationship of the three persons of the Trinity, the relationship between Jesus and the Church in the position of his bride, and the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph (ignoring, for a moment at least, those confusing references to the brother of Jesus appearing in the Gospels and the Acts). 

Now while the Trinity is maintained to be made up of three separate persons, those persons are said to be of the same substance, each of them equally God.  Much as we may try, we can't say the same of the human family at all.  Even by metaphor the comparison is clumsy.  Humans in a family are not at all like the Trinity, nor can they be.  Indeed, it's not clear even what the Trinity is so it's impossible to speak of it as analogous to anything at all.

As for the Holy Family, comparing the human family to it doesn't work either.    Joseph obviously wasn't Jesus' biological father, but there are stepfathers enough in the world and they may be considered part of the family.  The true Father in the case of the Holy Family was a rather remarkable one, though, and a virgin mother isn't very common either.  So, the Holy Family was profoundly unusual.  It's questionable whether drawing such a comparison is very helpful to understanding families, and doing so may justly be said to create expectations which simply cannot be fulfilled.

It's clear, however, that a real effort is being made by the Pope (and even others in the Church) to recognize that traditional strictures if not entirely misguided should be ignored or treated as mere technicalities.  Efforts are made in this document to recognize "mixed marriages", to allow those divorced to participate in Church ritual and be treated with respect, and to liberalize the mysterious process of annulment.  There are even suggestions that "irregular" relationships may be beneficial, even worthy, though same sex marriage remains unholy and inappropriate and efforts are made to make that clear.

These are not easy assertions to make in this kind of document, and that may well explain how careful, and unspontaneous, it is when read.  It's an argument of sorts, in favor of change of sorts, and that is something in such an ancient and rigid institution.  But this particular "Song of Joy" isn't one you can dance to, and though it may be possible to be encouraged one can't rejoice in it.

Habemus Papam Mirabilis

The Pontifex Maximus, a/k/a Pope Francis, is certainly a remarkable Vicar of Christ.  He continues to surprise me and no doubt continues to surprise and horrify, or perhaps delight, others.

I'm fond of his rejection of papal pomp and pretence (and of alliteration).  The creation of a commission to look into efforts of bishops to protect priests who molest children is encouraging as well.  That it took so long for the Church to take this step is sad but unsurprising.  That it took Francis some time to accomplish it is, I think, due more to the fact it likely took quite a bit of searching to find someone willing to sit on such a commission than hesitance on his part.

But in this post I'll address his encyclical on climate change, which astonishes even by virtue of the fact it addresses climate change at all.  This is not one of the traditional concerns of the Holy See.  But it may be that the Pope was serious in choosing his name, in which case he has a serious regard for the Earth and its creatures generally, in which case he may also feel that humanity is not the sole concern of the deity.

Such a view cannot but be welcomed by anyone who can no longer accept a God which for reasons it seems would be inexplicable is primarily if not exclusively focused on the conduct of a species which has its home on a tiny planet circling one unremarkable star among billions in a galaxy among billions.  The universe can only be considered a spectacular waste by those who think this and who consider God to be a creator, transcending the universe but in a way we can't understand, being unable to understand what anything beyond the universe would be.

It would seem, though, that a God concerned with the well being of the entire world would appeal to others whose conception of the divine is not entirely anthropomorphic.  I think that conceptions of God can be judged, and that certain conceptions are more reasonable than others.  One that is not exclusively anthropomorphic is I think of necessity more reasonable than one that is, given the magnitude of the universe.  Indeed, I think belief in an anthropomorphic God, or one that is primarily concerned with humanity, is delusional. 

It's stunning as well for a Pope to state that the view of humanity as holding dominion over the rest of nature and its creatures is in error, even if he ascribes that error to a misreading of scripture rather than acknowledging it as the self-regarding dream of a Bronze-Age tribe of primitives who didn't know any better.  But it would be too much to expect a Pope to abandon scripture at this stage in the development of institutional religion.

Even so, the encyclical is remarkable in that it seems to abjure, by implication, what has probably been the view of most Christians throughout the history of Christianity.  Europeans were infamously unconcerned with the world except as a source of comfort and profit, and this attitude must, in part, be credited to Christianity after the extermination of paganism.  Not only has Christianity, due to the misreading of scripture claimed by the Pope, fostered the belief that man is the master of the universe (as it were) next to God, it has also denigrated the world in worshipping a God who's kingdom is not of the world.  This was especially the case in the days when Christians expected the luridly conceived end of the world to be imminent (some, of course, still do).

Regrettably, the view of the world as inferior and insignificant (or unreal as Cardinal Newman put it) in comparison with the afterlife only seldom motivates the renunciation of it by saints and hermits.  For the rest of us, it contributes to its exploitation.  What does the world and its creatures matter, after all? 

Christians or those with a Christian view of the world are not its only despoilers, of course.  And  it must be admitted that there have been efforts in the Western world to curb our destructive tendencies.  But this represent the first time I'm aware of when a religious leader in the West has condemned those tendencies as part of religious teachings.    I think this is significant, and hope it has a significant effect.

Super Saints!

I refer to John XXIII and John Paul II, who are super, of course, because they were canonized faster than a speeding bullet compared with what has been the norm for the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church (OHCAC), if not for its God, who was indeed the God of my joy and my youth.  They are the Super Santos!

I wonder what is in the mind of the Pontifex Maximus in allowing this simultaneous saint-saying.  Not just one but two saints are proclaimed, unique in the long history of the OHCAC.  But then there are not just one, but two, popes.  They are the Pontifices Maximi I suppose (right declension?) and together they have performed a kind of miracle of their own it seems.

Not that miracles are what they used to be.  It once was the case that no less than two attested miracles were required for sainthood, but it seems that is no longer true.  It's unclear there need even be one anymore.  And worse (for someone like me) is the disappearance of the office of the advocatus diaboli.  Yes, it's true that even the Devil should have a lawyer (no doubt he is one but is wise enough not to represent himself), but to have someone formally involved in the process to question whether canonization is appropriate seems only prudent, and creates at least the appearance of impartiality.

Has the OHCAC gone saint-mad?  Are there more prospective saints in the batter's box?

I've found the active pontiff (as opposed to the inactive one) to be an interesting and in some ways admirable Vicar of Christ.  I like his apparent humility, his self-reliance, his indifference to the baroque ceremony and the grand isolation of the papacy.  It seems also that he is not (yet?) the willing or unwilling slave of the Vatican bureaucracy.  He has said remarkable things, which is no small achievement for the leader of such an ancient institution.  He may even do remarkable things, even with doctrine, and that would be a great thing indeed.  Canonizing two of his recent predecessors seems somehow a step backward.

That's what may be behind it, of course.  It may be that this is a means of placating the traditionalists, and even an effort to assuage at one and the same time the Vatican II fans and their enemies in the Church.  My feelings for the Vatican II reforms are ambiguous, but what objections I have are more aesthetic than substantive.  Vatican II brought about the guitar masses I was obliged to sit through in my youth, and the banality of the liturgy, the gutting of which continues to this day.  I didn't have to sit through the old Latin mass, as I was a participant in it; as an accomplished but perhaps ugly altar boy judging from the fact I was never molested by a priest.  I was an Initiate, at least of the Lesser Mysteries of the Universal Church.  What mysteries are left for Catholics now?

If this is, then, more a political maneuver than anything else, I suppose it is understandable if not honorable.  If saints we must have there will continue to be saints made, and some unmade, like my favorite, St. Christopher, whose medal still adorns my chest after all these years.

I am fond of him if only because he became a saint by virtue of a kind of practical joke by the Deity (at least as I recall the story).  What seemed to be a small child asked to be carried through a river to the other side.  The child, of course, was God wearing a somewhat familiar disguise to those of us used to the symbols of the modern Christmas, but which may not have been familiar to Christopher.  The Divine Child rather mischievously made himself heavier and heavier as poor Christopher tried to make his way through the water, but he bore the child across nonetheless, no doubt cursing himself for agreeing to help.  But he was rewarded for his effort.   Thus he is (was) the patron saint of travelers, and will see you safe to your destination.  Or he would have, in any case, in the days of his glory.  Now he is a kind of stranger to the Church, as am I.

Perhaps, though, "saint" is being redefined.  Perhaps sainthood will be reserved for outstanding individuals of the Catholic faith, people of great influence or inspiring example.  The influence of these two saints in particular can't be questioned.  If that's to be the case, then miracles would seem unnecessary as conditions precedent; they would become a kind of extra, or bonus, qualification.  Becoming a saint would be similar to receiving a Noble Prize. 

Will the newest saints be patron saints of anything, and if so what?  Patron saints of speed, perhaps, their visages to appear on medals made for jet pilots and race-car drivers?  Do people still pray to saints these days?  One must wonder who will pray to them, the Super Saints, and for what.