Of lunchtime, doing time, and the Vatican report on the sisters

Sr. Megan Rice, one of three arrested for breaking into a nuclear facility in Tennessee in 2012. She was 82 at the time. Photo by Shawn Poynter for the New York Times.

Sr. Megan Rice, one of three arrested for breaking into a nuclear facility in Tennessee in 2012. She was 82 at the time. Photo by Shawn Poynter for the New York Times.

A nun at my lunch table described a “shakedown.” A “shakedown” is when the prison guards raid your cell block to search for contraband. They might rummage through your bedding, turn out your pockets, conduct outright strip searches, the whole nine yards.

It took a moment, but I realized she wasn’t talking about a story she’d heard, or a show she’d watched. Nor was it something she knew through prison ministry. The sister had served time. She had gone through “shakedowns.”

I was eating with several sisters who worked in social justice fields. I found that most if not all of them had gone to jail for civil disobedience. One mentioned the name of a prison. She asked the nun next to her: “That was your prison, right?” Her neighbor confirmed that it was, in fact, her prison.

Another sister related how she was part of a group of defendants. They gathered to receive their sentences: jail time and a several thousand dollar fine. The judge said he would waive their fines, but they had to promise to never trespass again. All of them, including the sister, refused. They all paid.  Continue reading

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The Vatican explains

The Vatican’s International Theological Commission recently published a document entitled: “‘Sensus Fidei’ in the Life of the Church.” Cindy Wooden of Catholic News Service, in an article reprinted at NCR, summarized its argument: “the document emphasized the importance of assuming church leaders are correct, trying to understand the basis for their teaching and, in particular, for praying, regularly receiving the sacraments, studying and being an active member of the Catholic community before claiming to be able to discern that a church teaching needs adjustment.”

Kelly Stewart, an NCR Today blogger, had a different way of summarizing the argument. Her June 30 post about “Sensus Fidei” is entitled: “Church leaders’ condescension an affront to Catholic laity’s intelligence.”

Stewart wrote that the document “prompted me to revisit Rebecca Solnit’s ‘Men Explain Things to Me.’ Solnit’s 2008 essay is something of an Internet classic, famous largely for the feminist portmanteau, ‘mansplaining,’ that it inspired: ‘Men explain things to me, and other women,’ she writes, ‘whether or not they know what they’re talking about.’” Continue reading

After him came the modern popes

Today is the seventy-fifth anniversary of the death of Ambrogio Damiano Achille Ratti, Pope Pius XI. It is the sort of thing only I would pay attention to.

I am an unusual member of the church justice movement. I consider dead popes my dear friends, even as I laser-critique the two popes who are living.

When one of my theology professors remarked that Pius XI would have been a fun pope to have a beer with, I enthusiastically agreed. In fact, I exceeded his sentiment. I thought Pius would have been a really fun pope for me to have a beer with.

Ratti as a child was called “the little old man.” He worked his way through an algebra book “for fun.” He was not unlike me, who memorized all two-hundred-plus popes at age eleven “for fun.”

Meanwhile, as a former library clerk and an erstwhile cataloger for a special collection, I appreciate that Ratti was a longtime librarian and archivist. Nay, more: he was a paleographer, a scholar of “old writing.” And I share his instinctive, unquestioning esteem for crabbed Greek letters inked onto delicate parchment, for Latin sentences chiseled into silent stone.

Pius wouldn’t like my blog, but he would be enthusiastic about blogging. He was the pope who hurled the church into the communications age by founding Vatican Radio. Its first broadcast featured his modest utterance: “Listen, heavens, while I speak; earth, hear the words that I am saying.” (He was quoting Deuteronomy 32.) Pius also lectured a group of nuns on the many glories of the telephone.

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“Here Comes Everybody”

With Pope Benedict XVI’s announcement that he is resigning and with the conclave to elect the new pope beginning soon, all eyes are on Rome.  Both religious and secular news sources have spent the last two weeks making sense of Benedict’s surprise announcement and speculating about the papabili.  Who will the next pope be?  Could the next pope be from the Global South?  How will the new pope respond to the challenges of post-modernism?  The scandal of abuse which continues to plague the Catholic Church?

I admit that I’ve been sucked into the media coverage and the Catholic blogosphere in the two weeks since Pope Benedict’s decision to resign has been made public.  I’ve spent more than my fair share of time reading editorials, taking in statistics on global Catholicism, watching youtube video by commentators of all kinds, and listening the speculations of Vaticanistas about the upcoming conclave. 

However, instead of offering my personal take on all that is going on, I want to share a few words to balance out all the emphasis on Rome.  Certainly leadership matters.  Certainly these are historic days that bear our attention and prayers.  But both in the realms of worldly and ecclesial politics, we do ourselves a disservice and disempower ourselves when we overemphasize the role of leaders and underemphasize the rest of us. 

One of the major ecclesiological themes of the Second Vatican Council is that the Church as the People of God.  Yes, the Church is an institution, but the Church is also a community, the whole community of the baptized.  I think of the thousands of people I have met over my years of volunteer service, parish ministry, and involvement in various Catholic organizations.  Kate who serves as a congregation-based community organizer working to improve access to services for the poorest and most vulnerable in our local community.  David who helps ex-offenders reintegrate back into society after completing their prison sentences.  Eladio and Juanita who visit and pray with Spanish-speaking immigrants in the hospital.  Carmen, Paula, and so many others who work to provide educational support for children in rural Nicaragua.  Mary who finds joy in accompanying people with disabilities in a L’arche community.  Michael who works to organize people of faith to abolish the death penalty and uphold the dignity of human life.  Father Paul who tirelessly ministers to newly-arrived immigrants and helps them to adapt to US culture while maintaining their faith.  Jen who – despite her frustrations with the hierarchy and hectic schedule working full-time coordinating service opportunities for college students – makes it to Mass with her two young children every Sunday. 

The litany could continue – certainly you could add many names from your own experience.  This is the Church, the People of God, living out lives of service, justice, charity – as lay people, married and single, young and old, as vowed religious, priests and deacons – around the world.  As James Joyce wrote, “Catholic means ‘here comes everybody.’” With all the pomp and circumstance of the conclave, the smoke and ringing bells and vestments, let’s not forget that the church is all of us. 

A human animal ponders Creation

In God’s image?

“Who warned you, you serpent’s brood, to escape from the wrath to come? See that you do something to show that your hearts are really changed! Don’t start thinking that you can say yourselves, ‘We are Abraham’s children,’ for I tell you that God could produce children of Abraham out of these stones!” – John the Baptist, St. Luke 3:7-8 (J.B. Phillips)

I was listening to an Assembly of God pastor give a sermon on the radio Sunday, and he said something that struck me. During his closing prayer, he told God that “some sociologists seem to think that we’re animals.” He followed by assuring the Divine that his congregation knew better.

I’ve heard this said before in not so many words, but this time it came on the heels of my completing Amir D. Aczel’s The Jesuit and the Skull (review coming soon!), a wonderful read about Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the Jesuit priest/archaeologist. Teilhard was a part of the expedition that discovered a Homo erectus skull in China in 1929, but most of his writings about evolution and how it can be reconciled to Christianity were suppressed by the Jesuit order and the Vatican until his death in 1955.

Part of what has made – and continues to make – the theory of evolution so hard to swallow for biblical literalists is that it demonstrates that humans are a species of the animal kingdom, which puts us in the same category as chimpanzees, polar bears, anacondas and sponges. Genesis 1:26-27 tells us three times that God created Man to be in his own image, and literalists have a problem with the image of God looking like Peking Man. But it is the notion of Man’s “dominion” over the creatures of the earth that gives rise to the belief that we cannot be labeled as animals.

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How We Must Respond to the Inquisition of the Twenty-First Century

Although many have anticipated it, I could not fathom such a setback taking place. My Piscean hope and optimism impelled me to believe that the Vatican would never take such a bold, pointed step, displaying that it was intent on stifling any sort of objective or progressive way of thinking that was taking place within the church. Yet, last week, the institutional church of Rome announced that the Leadership Conference of Women Religious – the nation’s largest coalition of professed nuns –  would be undergoing a “reform” to ensure that its statutes and mission were in greater conformity with official Catholic teaching. Many sisters openly support a more nuanced, thoughtful approach when it comes to an array of issues dealing with the realm of human sexuality. This greatly troubled the pope and the bureaucratic apparatus of the Holy See.

Because of their consistent and zealous dedication to contemplate issues such as the morality of abortion, homosexuality, contraception, and women’s ordination the sisters have had the integrity of their faith, as well as their religious apostolate, placed under scrutiny. Archbishop Peter Sartain, the leader of the Archdiocese of Seattle, and a vocal foe of civic efforts to legalize marriage equality, has been tasked with overseeing the implementation of this “reform.”

In light of these revelations, it must be stated that such efforts in no way constitute the conditions that the word “reform” demands. This is nothing less than a modern-day Inquisition. It isn’t coincidence that the Vatican committee from which this indictment stemmed (the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, whose former head, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger was elected Bishop of Rome in 2005) has previously been known as the “Holy Office of the Inquisition.” During the European Renaissance of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and in the days of the Enlightenment that would follow it, this entity bore the sole responsibility for the suppression, and attempted eradication, of any instance of provocative questioning that challenged the conventional wisdom that had been established by the institutional hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church. Joan of Arc, Galileo Galilei, Nicolaus Copernicus, and Frs. Hans Küng and Charles Curran are just a few notable subjects who have borne the brunt of this assembly’s assault on the cognitive process throughout history.

As I digested these realizations, I asked myself, out of despair and pragmatic concern, “Can I remain a credible member of an institution that stands for such blatant manifestations of homophobia and misogyny?” For some time, I seriously pondered the notion that so many have suggested before to myself, and other progressively-inclined Catholics – to join the Episcopal Church. For me personally, such a move would be coming full circle in spiritual terms. I am a former member of the Anglican Communion. In my later teenage years I felt compelled to enter into full communion with the Roman Catholic Church, and in 2007, was confirmed and received during the Easter Vigil. However, since that time, my thoughts and attitudes about a variety of theological and political topics have changed completely.

The foremost of these ideological evolutions was my own spiritual and emotional journey of discovery regarding my own sexuality. After coming to terms with, and accepting the fact that I was a gay man, created in the image of God, just as any other human being is, no longer could I view any segment of Scripture through a rigidly literal lens. Although I now accept my orientation as holy, and God-given, the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church does not. In stark contrast, at least in the United States, the Episcopal Church openly affirms and welcomes LGBT persons completely for who they are. They are not required to live celibately, in order to satisfy the dictates of interpretations and theological regulations that have been concocted by fallible men. Instead, they are allowed to fully express themselves as the persons they were created to be – regardless of who they are attracted to, or who they happen to fall in love with.

If the hierarchy of the Catholic Church is punishing religious sisters for exploring and celebrating such a mindset, will there come a time in the future when the doors of all Catholic parishes will be slammed shut, as far as LGBT persons are concerned? Statistically, the climate within the church only seems as if it will trend in an increasingly more conservative direction. The men that Pope Benedict has been appointing as bishops have proven to be consistently conservative and reactionary on all matters theological and political. In an even more discouraging assessment, most younger men who are currently in seminary, or who have been ordained to the priesthood within the past two decades, are overwhelmingly more rigid in their approach to most doctrinal and pastoral questions compared to their counterparts who may have been ordained immediately before or shortly after the Second Vatican Council, which took place in the 1960’s. This was made evident recently when a very orthodox priest denied Holy Communion to a woman who happened to be a lesbian, living openly in a relationship with another woman, at her own mother’s funeral. Although this priest was later reprimanded, and subsequently suspended from the Archdiocese of Washington, such an incident, drenched in vertical judgment and lack of compassion, serves as a frightening portal into what the future of Catholicism could be.

I’m very blessed to have been directed by the Holy Spirit to an extremely welcoming, vibrant, and diverse parish here in Baltimore. The pastor is a wonderfully accepting and courageous man, formed in the innovative consciousness of the Second Vatican Council that was inspiring to so many. But what happens in the future whenever a new, younger priest might be assigned? I could very clearly envision what my fate would be then, especially if I happened to openly be in a committed relationship with another man.

These questions and potential scenarios were what drove my heart to deep despair, dismay, and dejection as I mulled over what  the implications of last week’s news meant for my life intimately, and the Catholic Church in the United States as a whole. With the purposeful direction that the pope and the hierarchy are taking, it seems that Catholicism, despite the efforts of many, will become nothing more than a cult as time passes. Gone will be the sacramental vision that reveres and celebrates the Sacred present in every man, woman, child, life experience; extending to all aspects of creation. The only recognized mediators of holiness will now be the pope, the bishops, and the all-male priesthood, who are the exclusive vehicles through which Divine revelation is interpreted.

If this is indeed the future of the Catholic Church, why remain? Such a vision is the exact opposite of the dynamic, inclusive Reign of God which Jesus of Nazareth proclaimed as the cause of His being, and would ultimately forfeit His life for. Perhaps, being a Catholic is no longer in keeping with my conscience?

As I wrestled internally with these questions, my mind was suddenly swept back to Call to Action’s national Conference of 2010. It was there that I had the life-altering opportunity to be in the presence of Joan Chittister, a Benedictine sister and global advocate on a variety of issues, most notably, those of justice, peace, and women’s rights. She had long been a spiritual hero for me. It was her prolific writing that helped me begin to approach my faith in a new manner, not merely accepting “divinely revealed truths”, but insisting on asking questions. In this way, I would come to realize, our faith was actually deepened and confirmed. At the Conference, Sister Joan was conducting a book signing. I eagerly brought a book of hers I had been reading on the trip to Milwaukee with me to the event. As the time came for me to approach her I was overcome with joy, and I have to admit, was somewhat starstruck. To ease the high intensity of that moment, I remarked that several months before I had written her a letter thanking her for the profound inspiration that her own works had meant for my spiritual life. I had also recounted my own struggle of coming to terms with my sexual orientation, as well as some daunting financial straits myself and my mother were undergoing. It was a very difficult period of my life in which I had trouble envisioning with certainty what the future would look like. I never expected Sister Joan to remember these facets of my personal life, but she surprised me by saying, “I remember your letter.” She continued, “Know that just you’re being here means something. Even in the valleys and the deserts of your life know that you are not alone. We are with you, all of us are with you!” These powerful words of encouragement will remain cemented upon my heart forever.

As I was leaving the Conference I had another chance encounter that would leave my life indelibly changed. On the return flight to Baltimore, by coincidence, I happened to be seated next to Sister Jeannine Grammick. Sister Jeannine has been a champion for years of the moral legitimacy and equal dignity bestowed by God to persons who are lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender. For three decades, she has operated New Ways Ministry, a Catholic organization dedicated to affirming and welcoming LGBT individuals in the life of the church. As we chatted, I conveyed to her my gratitude for the wonderful and profoundly meaningful work she has done on behalf of gay Catholics. As our plane continued along its course, Sister Jeannine inquired about what parish I attended in Baltimore. At the time, I was attending the cathedral parish where I had been received into the Catholic Church. I mentioned that the solemn, choral liturgy was my main reason for worshiping there, rather than any sense of real belonging that made me feel as if I was an indispensable part of the community. Sister Jeannine proposed to me that I investigate other parishes that actively welcomed and supported individuals regardless of their background or sexual orientation. The parish I attend today was one of those she recommended to me.

Even as I went through the process of formally entering the Catholic Church a very dedicated School Sister of Notre Dame had helped facilitate and make the whole endeavor one of warmth, joy, and ease.

I must admit that my contact with religious sisters has been infrequent, compared to most Catholics who may have been raised in their presence, constantly being enriched by their guidance as teachers, catechists, or parish coordinators. But the aforementioned experiences I’ve been blessed to enjoy have greatly impacted my own personal growth, both spiritually and psychologically.

For numerous American Catholics, the sisters have remained the legitimate moral leaders of the church. In contrast, the institutional hierarchy has become ever more concerned with the legal precision of the expression of various doctrines, and the maintenance of the medieval vestiges of ecclesiastical power – all to the detriment of those who occupy the furthest margins of society. When an epidemic wave of bullying drove numerous LGBT individuals to see taking their lives as the only way they could be delivered from such relentless torture, what words of encouragement did our nation’s bishops offer to ease the pain of this tragic phenomenon?

Absolutely nothing.

It was the National Coalition of American Nuns that condemned the outbreak of suicides amongst many of America’s LGBT youths. This was done primarily out of a heartfelt obligation to do something, given that the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops had been notably silent on this pressing and deeply disturbing occurrence.

As I ponder these facts, and many other ways in which America’s religious sisters have helped sustain and edify the faith of the Catholic Church in the United States, I am greatly saddened, as a discouraging paradigm seems to be taking hold of the church so many of us love and regard as our spiritual mainstay.

Although many may legitimately no longer be able to find their spiritual nourishment within the confines of the Roman Catholic Church I do not see it as my task to leave at this point. First of all, this is not the attitude and the character that formed the mission and the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus never backed down from anything. His very life was animated with unbridled passion for pursuing justice, mercy, and peace. Impelled by the Spirit, these virtues sustained His cause even through the onslaught of suffering, and finally, as He emitted His last breath, in His final act of love upon the wood and shame of the cross. Even though the religious and political authorities of His day sought to extinguish Jesus’ impact on society because they saw Him as a subversive threat to all that they held dear, this never deterred Him from living out His mission of communicating the Divine to an unsuspecting world.

In the same spirit, I see myself called to remain in solidarity with the sisters who have offered to the world another, more maternal, image of God than those exemplified by their counterparts in the echelons of power. I am called to stand with Joan Chittister, Jeannine Grammick, Elizabeth Johnson, Catherine of Sienna, Hildegard of Bingen, Teresa of Avila, Mary MacKillop and all religious women of conscience throughout the centuries who have remained within the walls of the Catholic Church and stood firm for their convictions, instead of letting the status quo of unchecked patriarchy hold sway.

As Sister Joan emphasized to me that all those who were dedicated to the cause that Call to Action stands for I could rely on for spiritual and emotional solidarity, so I must remain in unity, and unwavering support of these courageous women who are responsible for building and vivifying the Catholic Church in the United States as we know it today.

Two Scriptural passages seem to grant hope to all who may be experiencing feelings of uncertainty and despair with these most recent developments.

In the Acts of the Apostles, the early Christian community is presented as experiencing persecution from both the secular authorities of Rome as well as the religious leaders of Judaism. As Peter and other apostles are being interrogated in front of a panel of Jewish religious authorities, a respected Pharisee interrupts the proceedings, and says, “In the present case, I tell you, keep away from these men and let them alone; because if this plan or this undertaking is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them – in that case you may even be found fighting against God!” -Acts 5:38-39

If the cause of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious is truly Spirit-driven there is nothing that the powers of men will be able to do to extinguish it, even if it is necessary for it to be transformed into an entirely new manifestation.

In the Gospel reading for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, the author of John depicts Jesus as stating, “I am the Good Shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away – and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the Good Shepherd. I know My own and My own know Me, just as the Father knows Me and I know the Father. And I lay down My life for the sheep…For this reason the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again.” -John 10:11-15,17-18

Just as God has blessed us with genuine, attentive, pastoral shepherds in the ministries and examples of so many religious women here in the United States, so we must remind these valiant sisters that even in these dark days of despair and uncertainty hope is not lost. The Good Shepherd has gone before us, and continues to lead us in love, generously caring for all those entrusted to His fold. Even as the ‘hired hands’ of an institution have continued to flee from the implications that the signs of this age may be offering, Christ the Good Shepherd continues to lead His Church through unpredictable pastures. We shall fear no evil, for He remains always with us.