Staying too long at the dance

We have, so far, avoided discussing—here, at any rate—the relatio finalis from the Synod. It is exactly the sort of document that permits both Cardinal Kasper and Cardinal Pell to argue that it supports each man’s position. However, comparing the three significant paragraphs—84, 85, and 86—with Germanicus’s final report, it is clear that Germanicus’s thinking was adopted by the Synod. Germanicus misconstrued Familiaris consortio 84; so did the relatio finalis. Germanicus proposed a forum internum path; so did the relatio finalis. If you think that Germanicus’s report represents, essentially, a compromise version of the Kasperite proposal, then it is fairly clear that the relatio finalis adopted such a view. Whether the Holy Father will, in a post-synodal apostolic exhortation or other, more juridical document, put some backbone into the proposal remains to be seen.

However, one can get a sense of the Holy Father’s outlook from his extraordinary speech at the end of the Synod. We quote the entire passage, which is fairly lengthy:

As I followed the labours of the Synod, I asked myself: What will it mean for the Church to conclude this Synod devoted to the family?

Certainly, the Synod was not about settling all the issues having to do with the family, but rather attempting to see them in the light of the Gospel and the Church’s tradition and two-thousand-year history, bringing the joy of hope without falling into a facile repetition of what is obvious or has already been said.

Surely it was not about finding exhaustive solutions for all the difficulties and uncertainties which challenge and threaten the family, but rather about seeing these difficulties and uncertainties in the light of the Faith, carefully studying them and confronting them fearlessly, without burying our heads in the sand.

It was about urging everyone to appreciate the importance of the institution of the family and of marriage between a man and a woman, based on unity and indissolubility, and valuing it as the fundamental basis of society and human life.

It was about listening to and making heard the voices of the families and the Church’s pastors, who came to Rome bearing on their shoulders the burdens and the hopes, the riches and the challenges of families throughout the world.

It was about showing the vitality of the Catholic Church, which is not afraid to stir dulled consciences or to soil her hands with lively and frank discussions about the family.

It was about trying to view and interpret realities, today’s realities, through God’s eyes, so as to kindle the flame of faith and enlighten people’s hearts in times marked by discouragement, social, economic and moral crisis, and growing pessimism.

It was about bearing witness to everyone that, for the Church, the Gospel continues to be a vital source of eternal newness, against all those who would “indoctrinate” it in dead stones to be hurled at others.

It was also about laying closed hearts, which bare the closed hearts which frequently hide even behind the Church’s teachings or good intentions, in order to sit in the chair of Moses and judge, sometimes with superiority and superficiality, difficult cases and wounded families.

It was about making clear that the Church is a Church of the poor in spirit and of sinners seeking forgiveness, not simply of the righteous and the holy, but rather of those who are righteous and holy precisely when they feel themselves poor sinners.

It was about trying to open up broader horizons, rising above conspiracy theories and blinkered viewpoints, so as to defend and spread the freedom of the children of God, and to transmit the beauty of Christian Newness, at times encrusted in a language which is archaic or simply incomprehensible.

In the course of this Synod, the different opinions which were freely expressed – and at times, unfortunately, not in entirely well-meaning ways – certainly led to a rich and lively dialogue; they offered a vivid image of a Church which does not simply “rubberstamp”, but draws from the sources of her faith living waters to refresh parched hearts.

And – apart from dogmatic questions clearly defined by the Church’s Magisterium – we have also seen that what seems normal for a bishop on one continent, is considered strange and almost scandalous – almost! – for a bishop from another; what is considered a violation of a right in one society is an evident and inviolable rule in another; what for some is freedom of conscience is for others simply confusion. Cultures are in fact quite diverse, and every general principle – as I said, dogmatic questions clearly defined by the Church’s magisterium – every general principle needs to be inculturated, if it is to be respected and applied. The 1985 Synod, which celebrated the twentieth anniversary of the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council, spoke of inculturation as “the intimate transformation of authentic cultural values through their integration in Christianity, and the taking root of Christianity in the various human cultures”. Inculturation does not weaken true values, but demonstrates their true strength and authenticity, since they adapt without changing; indeed they quietly and gradually transform the different cultures.

(Emphasis supplied, italics in original, and citations omitted.) For our part, we cannot remember—or even really imagine—John Paul or Benedict speaking in such a manner about their doctrinal opponents. In fact, often, John Paul and Benedict gave their doctrinal opponents the red hat and important Curial positions. (We have said repeatedly, elsewhere, that John Paul and Benedict’s legacies are compromised by their willingness to promote dissenters like Cardinal Kasper to high office.) But, regardless of whether or not such an expression is precedented, it is clear that the Holy Father has had it up to here with traditionally minded Catholics.

We note at this point that Roberto de Mattei explains the Holy Father’s critical Synod Speech by articulating another alleged revolt against a deficient text. On October 22, the draft relatio finalis was released, in Italian, under the strictest secrecy. The draft had the Holy Father’s evident backing, and it essentially restated the really deficient Instrumentum Laboris, ignoring the debate in the aula, the reports of the circuli minores, and the thousands of written modi. There was, according to De Mattei, a revolt in the aula: 51 Synod fathers, including some major figures in the Curia (and the Conclave), intervened, mostly against the draft. It became clear that the draft relatio finalis couldn’t pass. And then it was remembered that Germanicus achieved complete consensus—that is, Cardinal Müller and Cardinal Kasper on the same page—with its restatement of part of Familiaris consortio and its forum internum solution. The draft relatio finalis was amended to adopt, essentially, the Germanicus proposal, and it passed—but just barely and probably wouldn’t have passed without the Holy Father’s appointees. In other words, when the Holy Father gave his speech to the Synod, he was at the end of what De Mattei calls his “black day.” De Mattei says, of the Speech, “Hard words, which express bitterness and dissatisfaction: certainly not those of a victor.” (Emphasis supplied.) We are not sure what to make of De Mattei’s report. Certainly, it ought to be considered carefully, as aspects jive with objective facts—especially the fact that the Germanicus compromise solution ended up being the Synod’s position.

At any rate, the Holy Father apparently sees some (many?) traditionally minded Catholics—you know, orthodox Catholics—not as defenders of the Apostolic faith, which is, after all, the only sure means of salvation, but as judgmental, superior, and blinkered. But this is not a new attitude for the Holy Father. One of his favorite rhetorical devices is to criticize the so-called doctors of the law. He also likes to talk about modern-day Pharisees. He is also known for his ability to really let folks have it with both barrels: recall the 2014 Christmas speech to the Curia, which outlined fifteen diseases of the Curia. What is extraordinary to us, however, is the unwillingness of the Holy Father to make even vague noises about the good intentions of his doctrinal opponents. One gets the sense that he does not think that—oh, any number of men with red hats you could name as well as we could—even mean well.

And Francis is sick of them. Perhaps this is the way it goes. Rorate reposted today a comment from a Jesuit confrere of the Holy Father’s, which asserted that the Holy Father fell into bad, distant relationships with some groups during his time in Argentina. We do not know whether this is true: we weren’t there. However, we have a strong sense there is a sense the relationship between Francis and the conservatives is, on the whole, not good. We have the sense that everyone here thinks everyone else has stayed too long at the dance. The Holy Father wishes that the traditionalists would stop citing rules and throwing wrenches; they should get in line.

But the weariness and wariness is not limited to Francis’s side of the line of scrimmage, either. It seems to us that many traditionally minded are as worn out with Francis as he is with them. Into this mix, Elliot Milco has offered, at The Paraphasic, a lengthy, deeply personal reflection, “In the Absence of a Shepherd.” Milco observes

In such a Church, where do you look for guidance and support when the wolves are devouring Christ’s lambs? What authority is on your side?  The general absence of legitimate authority, the absence of clerics ready to stand up for the truth, makes it almost impossible to speak in defense of the orthodox faith.  In the words of the Prophet Ezekiel, we have been scattered because there is no shepherd, and when we are scattered we become food for all the wild animals.

It is against this background that I experience the protestations of many Catholics, who are committed to believing that Everything Is Fine in the Church.  Somehow their insular context or good fortune has spared them from seeing the massive damage and scandal being done by our clerics.  These people do not have to stand before hundreds of children who are already mostly committed to the corruption of the present age, and hear the words of the Supreme Pontiff quoted as evidence against the teachings of Christ.  They do not have to hear conversations about how X pastor feels emboldened in his tendencies by Francis’s perceived liberalism, or how Y priest is now secure enough under the present Archbishop that he will officiate at the marriage ceremony of two men.  And not knowing these things, even committed, it sometimes seems, to remaining oblivious of them, these Catholics turn those of us who cannot help but know them them into the enemies of the Church.  We are cranks, unhinged, hysterical, wackos. We are crypto-schismatics.  We are to blame for the present sense of chaos.  How could we dare to lose faith in the Holy Spirit’s protection of the Pope and the Hierarchy!  We must affirm!  Everything is fine! Really!

How easy it must be to stand by “Everything is Fine”, when the life of the Church is an abstraction, and not dozens of real faces one has to see and attempt to guide day after day.  How comforting it must be to say “Things have been this bad before!” when the corruption of the times is thought of generally and not with respect to a particular person’s spiritual development and eternal destiny, which is being visibly impacted for the worse by the scandalous vagueness of those in authority.  With such an easy frame of mind at stake, who can blame these Catholics for defending the comfortable abstraction against the doomsayers and cranks?

(Some formatting omitted.) We have previously commented on the lack of trust in traditional circles for the Holy Father and certain prelates, and we think Milco’s piece expresses these feelings very precisely and movingly. And he is not alone. Dr. John Rao, for example, during a web-exclusive interview for The Remnant, expressed similar feelings regarding “neo-Catholics,” by which he means, apparently, conservative Catholics who take the reigning pope as the definitive expression of the Magisterium. We have noticed a sense among traditionally minded Catholics that they are on their own as the Church navigates its way through the coming months and years. We see them attaching themselves to a handful of prelates, not usually diocesan ordinaries, such as Raymond Cardinal Burke or Bishop Athanasius Schneider, and settling in for a long, hard journey. It is also clear, we think, from Milco and Rao’s eloquent comments, that traditionally minded Catholics see clearly that this debate is only about doctrine. Discipline is a sideline to the real debate.

We note, of course, that this state of affairs would have scarcely been possible before (1) the Internet made instant communications anywhere in the world a fact of daily life and (2) before Paul VI, John Paul II, and Benedict XVI made the modern papacy very present for Catholics, especially conservatives who found the universal pastor more sympathetic and a better spiritual guide than their local pastors and ordinaries. In 1735, 1835, or 1935, if the pope had made a critical speech—and popes were making critical speeches even then—it is unlikely that the speech would be instantly heard of outside Rome. More likely, word would take months to reach even plugged-in churchmen, and the laity might never hear of the Holy Father’s barn-burning speech. Likewise, the partisan political side of the Church could not disseminate news and form received opinions as quickly in those days. It seems to us that the Church’s response to telecommunications in 2015 is sorely lacking, and a Synod could profitably be called to figure out how best to engage, meaningfully and pastorally, with the faithful in the age of Twitter. And if wishes were horses.

The question, the answer to which does not immediately present itself to us, is how Francis—how the Church —moves forward. And we are not sure Francis can. Even if he does not implement the Kasperite proposal, it is not clear to us that he ever regains warm feelings with the traditionally minded Catholics. The past year or eighteen months have done considerable damage to the Church and caused great scandal to traditionalists. Likewise, it is not even clear to us that he wants to regain warm feelings with the conservatives. The Holy Father pretty clearly views the traditionalists as rule-quoting scolds who are gumming up the works. So, is it a standoff for as long as the Holy Father reigns (and long may he reign)? Maybe. We do not see any openings or angles that would convince us otherwise, at any rate.

But it seems to us that, while certainly withdrawal into safe circles is the only reasonable response to the situation—and by this we mean (1) finding and building relationships with solid bishops and priests, (2) focusing ever more intensely on traditional devotions to Our Lord really present in the Eucharist and Our Lady’s Rosary, and (3) deepening one’s understanding of the doctrine of the Church—so too is hope. Milco notes,

Where does that leave us, fellow Christians, Pastors?  When the Church is divided between those fighting for heresy and those struggling to pretend that nothing is wrong, where can the faithful find refuge?  This is, I believe, the growing crisis of those committed to the ancient faith.  What can we do but put our hope in Christ?

Hope does not require candy-coating the present. Indeed, real hope acknowledges the gravity of the situation. Think of the Psalms, many of which express the anxiety and despair over the situation the Psalmist found himself in, which emotions are often amplified if you put the Psalms on the lips of Our Lord. But the Psalmist trusted that God would not abandon his people.

The Avignon Papacy and Liberalism

The Josias has an excerpt from Ludwig von Pastor’s history of the papacy about the Avignon popes, their cupidity, and the consequences of the same. Well worth a read. This passage, in particular, stuck out to us:

Still more radical, if possible, are the views regarding the doctrine and government of the Church put forth in this work. The sole foundation of faith and of the Church is Holy Scripture, which does not derive its authority from, her, but, on the contrary, confers on her that which she possesses. The only true interpretation of Scripture is not that of the Church, but that of the most intelligent people, so that the University of Paris may very well be superior to the Court of Rome. Questions concerning faith are to be decided, not by the Pope, but by a General Council.

This General Council is supreme over the whole Church, and is to be summoned by the State. It is to be composed not only of the clergy, but also of laymen elected by the people. As regards their office, all priests are equal; according to Divine right, no one of them is higher than another. The whole question of Church government is one of expediency, not of the faith necessary to salvation. The Primacy of the Pope is not founded on Scripture, nor on Divine right. His authority therefore can only, according to Marsiglio, be derived from a General Council and from the legislature of the State; and for the election of a Pope the authority of the Council requires confirmation from the State.

The office of the Pope is, with the College appointed for him by the Council or by the State, to signify to the State authority the necessity of summoning a Council, to preside at the Council, to draw up its decisions, to impart them to the different Churches, and to provide for their execution. The Pope represents the executive power, while the legislative power in its widest extent appertains to the Council. But a far higher and more influential position belongs to the Emperor in Marsiglio’s Church; the convocation and direction of the Council is his affair; he can punish priests and bishops, and even the Pope.

A question of trust

We have never liked Depeche Mode as much as New Order. That said, we were put in mind of a certain 1986 single by Depeche Mode (out at about the same time as New Order’s “Shellshock,” which also seems somehow appropriate to our circumstances) by Father Ray Blake’s post “The Synod of Mistrust.” Blake argues,

What seems to have been at the heart of the Synod and its point of crisis is nothing to do with the issues on the table, nothing to do with family or homosexuals or communion, it is trust. Trust has broken down, no-one trusts the people who report the Synod’s discussions. Fr Lombardi and his crew seem more about obfuscation than clarity. Fr Rosica, his English speaking side-kick, has become a twitter by-word for bullying and is seen as presenting of his own pro-gay agenda. Both are seen as presenting the ‘spirit’ of the Synod, not the Synod itself. In the same way most, if not all of  those who are entrusted with responsibility by the Pope, like Cardinal Baldissieri and Archbishop Forte and other papal appointees, are regarded either as being corrupt or part of the ‘gay-lobby’. They are simply not trusted.

The great divide between the Germans and most of the rest of the Synod again underlines a break-down in trust, it is unfortunate that the Pope has allowed himself to be seen as allied to the German cause.

To an observer, mistrust seems to be at the heart of the Synod. There is a great contrast between those of a ‘liberal’ perspective and those who oppose them. The trouble is that the ‘liberals’ are incredibly inarticulate, rather like poor old Cardinal Dew or Cardinal Wuerl or even our own Bishop Doyle, who has never struck me as being in the avant guard of revolutionary, or even contemporary, thought. What are they saying? The truth is no-one knows, which means they inspire and capture no-one’s imagination, no-one will die for what they have to say, no-one will commit themselves to what they have to say, because ultimately they have nothing to say. It is merely vacuous prattle, which breeds confusion and becomes like the Holy Father’s, which tend to be nagging rather than edifying.

(Emphasis supplied and links removed.) Father Blake is a little gloomy, to be sure. However, we think he understates, if anything, the problem. The basic problem is that the Holy Father and most of his appointees are running a major deficit of trust with many Catholics.

Look at Mitis iudex. The basic standard of review for a nullity case is the same as always: the judge has to be morally certain that the marriage was void ab initio, and this is true whether the case proceeds on the ordinary contentious process or on the processus brevior. Yet, it is clear that many Catholics—including many intelligent, sensible Catholics, including some prelates—are convinced that Mitis iudex will result in Catholic divorce. Why? Well, they simply do not trust diocesan bishops to uphold the law regarding nullity cases. And they apparently do not trust that the Holy Father, through his Roman tribunals, to keep the dioceses in line.

Likewise, the debate over Laudato si’ has come down to a question of trust. Some Catholics think the Pope has sold out to the U.N.-backed leftist bloc on climate change. At the very least, these Catholics think that the Holy Father has given in to a bien-pensant consensus that pits, well, everyone against the developed, wealthy West. Pater Edmund Waldstein, O.Cist., has pointed out, convincingly, the ways in which Laudato si’ brilliantly criticizes the technocratic-anthropocentric outlook of modernity and the ways which that outlook opposes God and his creation. Likewise, we have yet to be convinced that Laudato si’ is out of line with Rerum novarum, Quadragesimo anno, or Populorum progressio—all of which, notwithstanding the Actonistas’ wishes otherwise, are solidly magisterial at this point. All that said, it is plain that many serious Catholics simply do not trust the Holy Father to agree with climate-change advocates where agreement is possible and to disagree on the (many) points where agreement is not possible. They think he’s going to give away the farm. There is no other conclusion to be drawn—except, of course, in the cases of those who have consistently resisted the Church’s economic teaching since Mater et Magistra.

And, of course, the paroxysms regarding the Synod, its leadership, and its procedures are well known. Certainly, John Paul and Benedict appointed their fair share of liberalizers and Modernists; there are not many cardinals named by Paul VI remaining (one, maybe?). Thus, almost everyone with a red hat got it from John Paul or Benedict. Likewise, there are not many bishops remaining who were not appointed by John Paul or Benedict. That said, the faithful plainly trusted John Paul and Benedict notwithstanding their mixed record of episcopal and cardinalatial appointments to hold the line in a way that they do not trust Francis.

Does the Holy Father deserve this atmosphere of mistrust and suspicion? Certainly not! Much of it is the result of the media, taking the Holy Father’s often broad, broadly encouraging statements and turning them into the veritable constitution of a new church that bears little resemblance to the one Christ founded. We doubt very much if the Holy Father intends this. But we think that the Holy Father likes to present a welcoming, compassionate face of the Church. (We have often said that were Father Bergoglio our confessor, we’d rave about him to all and sundry.) But the fact remains, the atmosphere is what it is.

Perhaps everything does come down to a question of trust.

That would be an ecumenical question

One interesting bit caught our eye in the report of Anglicus “D,” the group moderated by Cardinal Collins and reported by Archbishop Chaput:

The group had a long exchange on pastoral approaches to divorced people who had not remarried, and also divorced people who have married again without an annulment. Members voiced significant concern that whatever is done should not lead to greater confusion among our people. One bishop said that the issue of admitting divorced and remarried persons without an annulment to Communion was such a vital matter of doctrinal substance that it could only be handled at an ecumenical council and not at a synod.

(Emphasis added.) One bishop does not a trend make—unless you’re Walter Cardinal Kasper—but it is enormously interesting to us to see the suggestion that, while a synod cannot make changes on “vital matter[s] of doctrinal substance,” an ecumenical council can.

The high-water mark of the Kasperites

The third set of the reports of the circuli minores were released today. According to Raymond Arroyo, five groups clearly support the Kasperite proposal, two clearly oppose, and the rest are unclear. Rorate comes up with a different count. Rorate argues that most circuli are unfavorable to the proposal. There are thirteen circuli, so less than half of the circuli clearly support the proposal with Arroyo’s numbers. This half-jives with the reports yesterday that there was overwhelming opposition among the Synod fathers to the proposal.

We were struck by some of the language, aided hugely by Google Translate, in Germanicus’s report:

Die Diskussionen zeigen deutlich, dass es einiger Klärungen und Vertiefungen bedarf, um die Komplexität dieser Fragen im Licht des Evangeliums, der Lehre der Kirche und mit der Gabe der Unterscheidung weiter zu vertiefen. Einige Kriterien können wir freilich nennen, die zur Unterscheidung helfen. Das erste Kriterium gibt der hl. Papst Johannes Paul II. in FC 84, wenn er dazu einlädt: „Die Hirten mögen beherzigen, dass sie um der Liebe willen zur Wahrheit verpflichtet sind, die verschiedenen Situationen gut zu unterscheiden. Es ist ein Unterschied, ob jemand trotz aufrichtigen Bemühens, die frühere Ehe zu retten, völlig zu Unrecht verlassen wurde oder ob jemand eine kirchlich gültige Ehe durch eigene schwere Schuld zerstört hat. Wieder andere sind eine neue Verbindung eingegangen im Hinblick auf die Erziehung der Kinder und haben manchmal die subjektive Gewissensüberzeugung, dass die frühere, unheilbar zerstörte Ehe niemals gültig war.“ Es ist deshalb Aufgabe der Hirten, zusammen mit dem Betroffenen diesen Weg der Unterscheidung zu gehen. Dabei wird es hilfreich sein, gemeinsam in ehrlicher Prüfung des Gewissens Schritte der Besinnung und der Buße zu gehen. So sollten sich die wiederverheirateten Geschiedenen fragen, wie sie mit ihren Kindern umgegangen sind, als die eheliche Gemeinschaft in die Krise geriet? Gab es Versuche der Versöhnung? Wie ist die Situation des verlassenen Partners? Wie ist die Auswirkung der neuen Partnerschaft auf die weitere Familie und die Gemeinschaft der Gläubigen? Wie ist die Vorbildwirkung auf die Jüngeren, die sich für die Ehe entscheiden sollen? Eine ehrliche Besinnung kann das Vertrauen in die Barmherzigkeit Gottes stärken, die niemandem verweigert wird, der sein Versagen und seine Not vor Gott bringt.

Ein solcher Weg der Besinnung und der Buße kann im forum internum, im Blick auf die objektive Situation im Gespräch mit dem Beichtvater, zur persönlichen Gewissensbildung und zur Klärung beitragen, wie weit ein Zugang zu den Sakramenten möglich ist. Jeder muss sich selber prüfen gemäß dem Wort des Apostels Paulus, das für alle gilt, die sich dem Tisch des Herrn nähern: „Jeder soll sich selbst prüfen; erst dann soll er von dem Brot essen und aus dem Kelch trinken. Denn wer davon ißt und trinkt, ohne zu bedenken, daß es der Leib des Herrn ist, der zieht sich das Gericht zu, indem er ißt und trinkt. (…) Gingen wir mit uns selbst ins Gericht, dann würden wir nicht gerichtet.“ (1 Kor 11, 28–31)

(Emphasis supplied.) You may note that the two major sources in Germanicus’s outline of Cardinal Kasper’s own penitential path are Familiaris consortio no. 84, which has been the subject of much discussion over the last couple of years, and Paul’s dire warning in 1 Corinthians 11. The bit from Familiaris consortio is the standard German misquoting, which makes it sound like John Paul supported a pastoral determination based upon individual circumstances. He did not: that bit is just a prelude to the “However, the Church reaffirms her practice, which is based upon Sacred Scripture, of not admitting to Eucharistic Communion divorced persons who have remarried” portion, which is what was important. No surprise, though. However, we were especially interested to see Paul’s warning quoted in the context of an internal forum solution. That seems to be new.

It certainly looks like the Kasperites are in retreat. After all this strife—after two general assemblies of the Synod, after all the various media skirmishes, after everything—the best they could do was propose an internal-forum solution, tempered with Paul’s warning in 1 Corinthians 11? It hardly seems worth it. Of course, they may know something we don’t know.

Elizabeth Scalia and uncomfortable nihilism

Elizabeth Scalia has upset the apple cart in a big way today, asserting at Aleteia,

We are a church of faith and reason. I believe every word of the Creed. I believe every word articulated from the mouth of Christ Jesus, and I mean to obey the doctrine and dogma that have grown from his teachings and the traditions. I believe marriage is indissoluble and that divorce does not exist in Catholic marriages, but findings of nullity do. But belief does not automatically confer understanding. What I understand today is that we are all deeply in need of medicine, and none of us can defile the purity that is Christ, nor can the Holy Eucharist defile any one of us.

(Emphasis supplied.) Elliot Milco has a witty, devastating rejoinder, based on a children’s catechism.

For our part, we note that it is true: not one us can defile Christ’s purity. However, by that reasoning, all manner of shocking abuses of the Eucharist are No Big Deal. The lunatics and blasphemers who would abuse the living Flesh and Blood of the mighty God can’t defile God’s purity-beyond-purity. So, why should we get worked up if there’s an occasional black mass? Or if some perplexed protestant sticks the Eucharist between the pages of the hymnal, not knowing (1) that he shouldn’t approach the Sacrament and (2) what to do with the Sanctissimum once he has?

The reason, of course, is that we have an innate sense that one shouldn’t do those things to God. He deserves better. He deserves better than we can possibly give him, but we can at least do our utmost. One also has the sense that God is, in fact, hurt by abuses of his Precious Body and Blood, which he gave up on Calvary for us. At bottom, Scalia’s argument confuses injury with insult. We may not be able to diminish God’s purity-beyond-purity, but we are certainly capable of offending him, both in what we do and what we fail to do. And it seems to us that taking the Eucharist unworthily, given the witness of the Apostle, is surely an offense to God.

There is an uncomfortable nihilism at bottom here. If our ability to harm God is the sole meaningful criterion, then there is no meaningful criterion.

Devolution, Moneyball, and the children’s game

One of the most memorable moments in Moneyball—a good, though flawed, sports movie in many respects, sports movie—is when the scout is recruiting young Billy Beane. He says,

We’re all told at some point in time that we can no longer play the children’s game, we just don’t… don’t know when that’s gonna be. Some of us are told at eighteen, some of us are told at forty, but we’re all told.

(Emphasis supplied.) For context, Beane thought about playing college ball for Stanford and then looking at a career in the majors. The scout pooh-poohs the idea, suggesting that if Beane wants to be a big-league ballplayer, then he needs to go be a big-league ballplayer. The scout, in short, is addressing Beane’s desire to have it both ways. That‘s the children’s game.

Elliot Milco has a piece at The Paraphasic that is about the Holy Father’s apparent intent to forge ahead with collegiality and synodality. He argues, in short, that Francis’s plans are un-Catholic and disastrous for the Church. Worse than anything poor Pope Paul let happen. And he suggests that we will all find ourselves in greater sympathy with the SSPX if those plans come to fruition. We have expressed earlier our doubt that those plans will, in fact, come to fruition, not least since Francis has yet to achieve some of the big-idea items of his agenda. (Items, by the way, which will be necessary for the broader plans described: you can’t start devolving power to the peripheries as long as Pastor Bonus remains good law.) In the meantime, Milco urges us all to do as Catherine of Siena did and provide the Holy Father with our thoughts, encouragement, and, if necessary, fraternal correction.

This piece got us thinking, though maybe not how best to write a letter to the Pope outlining our concerns. It got us thinking about Moneyball. (Also, the Mets are playing for the pennant.) The fundamental aspect with the major problems confronting the Church is that they are all variations on the children’s game. The liberals want to have it both ways. Affirm doctrine about marriage, but permit those in objectively sinful situations to approach the living Flesh and Blood of the mighty God. Affirm the unity and universality of the Church, but give episcopal conferences the authority to vary doctrine and practice from region to region. Require petitioners to prove nullity to a moral certainty, but give bishops thirty days in which to sort everything out. Maintain a hierarchy, but let the faithful mark the direction of the Church. But you can’t play the children’s game forever.

Sooner or later, you have to make a choice, though. And it is in making those choices—almost always hard choices—that problems creep in.

What needed to be said

Writing in Crisis, Sean Haylock has a remarkably good piece on Christopher Hitchens. An excerpt:

Hitchens took on matters of profound importance, and he did it with a fierce passion. But when I think of the rhetoric he deployed, and the vehemence with which he deployed it, I can’t help but see him as a demagogue and a charlatan. One of his most oft-repeated quotes is “That which can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.” This is, from the perspective of both science and philosophy, a recipe for obscurantism and intellectual irresponsibility, and a disastrous idea for anyone with an interest in truth to take to heart. Its appeal is the same as much of Hitchens’ rhetoric: when invoked it provides the intoxicating pleasure of putting your foot down in an argument. It’s a flashy rhetorical gambit that says, “I need say no more.” Though happy to present himself as a champion of science, Hitchens was clearly ignorant of the philosophy of science and its most important developments in the twentieth century; otherwise, he would not have uttered a remark so redolent of verificationism. Popperians must shudder when they hear that quote.

Hitchens was also an avowed advocate of irony, seeing himself as a participant in the “all-out confrontation between the ironic and the literal mind.” One wonders whether he would have appreciated the irony that a fierce critic of the cult of personality should have become the object of just such a cult. Today he is worshipped (if I said idolized it would be only a minor exaggeration) by multitudes of devotees who fiercely defend him against any criticism. It is not to doubt the sincerity of his unbelief to observe that his refusal to make any concessions to the faithful in the course of what was surely an agonizing and in some ways humiliating death has made him, for some, a kind of atheist martyr. I don’t imagine his death from throat cancer gives pause to those who thrilled (and thrill still) at the sight of him moodily sucking on a cigarette, or swilling whiskey in his palm. He is not the first iconoclast made icon, and he will not be the last epicurean undone by his appetites and yet emulated by the young.

(Emphasis supplied.)

Exit strategies

There is a growing sense that, notwithstanding the concerns expressed by many about the composition of the Synod and its procedural dispositions, that the Kasperite proposal for communion for the divorced and remarried is not achieving lightning success among the Synod fathers. Robert Royal has a lengthy essay at The Catholic Thing about where the Synod is. He notes,

One hears through the grapevine that Archbishop Cupich has made several proposals in his small language group, which have been opposed nearly unanimously. So while the media pays most attention to stories like his and those even farther out, on the fringes of the Synod, the reality is that majorities of the Synod Fathers seem really to be where Catholics have always been on those hot-button issues. And, it’s a reasonable hope, that will be reflected in the final decisions to come from the Synod Fathers this week.

At the beginning of the Synod, it would have been greatly reassuring to know that significant majorities of the Synod Fathers did not favor Communion for the Divorced and Remarried (CDR), let alone proposals about “welcoming” gay couples and those who are cohabiting – the three things the media and “the world” believe make the difference whether this has been a “successful” Synod for Pope Francis. That might even have prevented the media, Catholic and not, from creating a false sense of a Synod in chaos. Synods going back to the early centuries of Christianity have been beset by controversy, sometimes even violence. Many things might yet come out of this synod that will puzzle the faithful on top of the puzzlement many already feel. But the worst has probably been avoided – though no doubt even a tolerable final statement may, in the wrong hands, lead to considerable mischief.

(Emphasis supplied.) Of course, no one really thinks that the matter will be resolved with the Synod vote, one way or the other. Cardinal Kasper didn’t take “no” from St. John Paul, he didn’t take “no” from Cardinal Ratzinger, and there is no reason to think he’ll take “no” from Francis. Assuming, of course, Francis is inclined to say “no.” The Kasperites undoubtedly have their exit strategy marked out. And, while it might involve a strategic retreat from this position, it by no means involves capitulation at any level. The battle will continue! And the Holy Father has very helpfully drawn the battle lines for us. Royal, again:

The place where Coleridge and other Synod Fathers seem to want to turn now is partly to the possibility of local bishops’ conferences having local jurisdiction. (We’ll have to see whether that Plan B surfaces in the Final Document as an end run around the significant majority that wishes to keep the doctrinal clarity on key points where it has been for 2000 years.) But partly – in Coleridge’s case it’s a more personal thing – bishops are still asking: are there ways to “accompany” people in hard situations without really changing doctrine? Are there ways to speak of sexual sins without changing doctrine (or denying they are sins)? It’s worth keeping an eye on how that will play out. “Changes in language” are never merely changes in language.

(Emphasis supplied.) An “end run”! Le mot juste! That is exactly what devolution is for the Kasperites—an end run around the conservative bishops who say nice things about Wojtyla and Ratzinger even now. An end run around Cardinal Sarah, Cardinal Napier, and the other Africans. An end run against Cardinal Müller and the doctrinal watchdogs. Of course, Ross Douthat has argued—convincingly, we think—that devolution will result in Rome assuming even more importance, since someone has to mediate between the Germans, the Africans, and everyone else. But there will be time for that later. What matters in the hic et nunc—our computer just auto-corrected hic to chic, which seems hugely appropriate in this context—is that the Germans get what they want.

However, it seems as though there is a glimmer of hope that the Kasperites might not get what they want. We have commented elsewhere that conservatives on Catholic blogs and on Twitter have spent a lot of time preparing to discredit the result of the Synod. The fix was in all along. The bishops should just walk out in protest. You, undoubtedly, are as familiar with the various lines of argument as we are. But Royal tells us that the liberals, if thwarted, have their lines of argument, too:

But the dramatizers have one thing right: the voices coming out in these last few days seem to be trying to create a narrative according to which the resistance to a more open Church stems from groundless animus at best, something more crudely “conservative” (or sinister) at worst.

(Emphasis supplied.) In other words, if the Synod fails to produce the long-hoped-for goal, the Kasperites will start in about the bishops who simply don’t like the Holy Father and the bishops (read: Africans) who are simply biased against the divorced-and-remarried and men and women struggling with same-sex attraction. Cardinal Kasper’s slip to Edward Pentin last time about the African bishops was but a sneak peek at the furious denunciations of the bishops who stood up for two thousand years of orthodoxy.

Confirmation bias

In our post “Synodality and the end of ultramontanism,” we made the point:

However, we are far from sure that the way to combat this spiritually unhealthy attitude is to start spinning off essentially Roman functions to the regional episcopal councils. That seems like a multiplication of the problem, rather than a reduction. It is unlikely that the newly juridically empowered episcopal conferences will engage in tentative, faintly self-deprecating expressions of their authority. No, it seems like quite the opposite will happen: they will insist on their authority. So, we’ll get, instead a distorted sense of the pope’s power, a distorted sense of the power of a plethora of episcopal conferences. Out of the frying pan, eh?

(Emphasis supplied.) Ross Douthat, on Twitter, has made an important point that we think is closely related:

And unlike Canterbury, Rome will retain power to reimpose uniformity. So Vatican/papal politics will be *more* contested, not less. Every papal conclave, every synod, will have the crazy feel of this month. The center won’t cease to matter; it will matter more.

In other words, since it will be Rome’s job to moderate between the newly empowered episcopal conferences, the inclination and disposition of Rome will be even more important. That is, Douthat suggests that we could get a differently distorted sense of papal power (in addition to whatever distortions creep in through the works of the episcopal conferences).

Not a happy thought.