A lot of folks disagree with Mark Shea's comment, "We have the bishops we want."
It could be put into a broader context, "We have the politicians we want."
There is a parable that can be drawn from the Simpson's epispode Much Apu About Nothing.
The show starts off with a bear wandering into Springfield. Homer Simpson, who was forced the indignity of doing without beer, incites a mob toward city hall (using the chant "We're here, we're queer, we don't want anymore bears").
| Homer: | Mr. Mayor, I hate to break it to you, but this town is infested by bears. |
| Moe: | Yeah, and these ones are smarter than the average bear. They swiped my pic-a-nic basket. |
| Helen: | [frantic] Think of the children! |
| [Mayor] Quimby: | All right, I promise to take swift and decisive action against these hibernating hucksters. [crowd cheers and leaves] [Quimby pulls out a picnic basket] Heh heh heh... [eats a sandwich] |
Thus starts a full blown bear patrol. And just because it's funny, I include the following segment:
| Homer: | Not a bear in sight. The Bear Patrol must be working like a charm. |
| Lisa: | That's specious reasoning, Dad. |
| Homer: | Thank you, dear. |
| Lisa: | By your logic I could claim that this rock keeps tigers away. |
| Homer: | Oh, how does it work? |
| Lisa: | It doesn't work. |
| Homer: | Uh-huh. |
| Lisa: | It's just a stupid rock. |
| Homer: | Uh-huh. |
| Lisa: | But I don't see any tigers around, do you? [Homer thinks of this, then pulls out some money] |
| Homer: | Lisa, I want to buy your rock. [Lisa refuses at first, then takes the exchange] |
Then Homer opens his paycheck, which includes a bear tax. Homer: "Let the bears pay the bear tax." In the next scene, a crowd is complaining about high taxes at city hall. Mayor Quimby complains, "Are those morons getting dumber or just louder?"
Yes, it's just a Simpson's episode, but in real life we see overwhelming disapproval of deficit spending, high taxes, and budget cuts against everyone's favorite department or program (whatever that may be).
With such obvious cognitive disconnects, it's easy for me to see that Mark is not saying that we want bishops who coddle child molesters. No, Mark is saying that we want bishops who affirm our okayness. We don't want to hear about our sinfulness or any uncomfortable truths on such things as contraception or birth control pills. But the same sort of wishy-washiness that stops bishops from speaking those uncomfortable truths about ourselves is same sort of wishy-washiness that stops bishops from taking decisive action against child molestors.
It's easy for folks to counter that molesting is a so much greater evil than all the petty evils that go on day-to-day in a diocese. But look at it this way: how do you expect someone to confront evil in the great things, when he cannot confront evil in the smallest of ways. In my best Aquinas-like way, confronting evil is a virtue aquired by habit; it is something that needs to be practiced.
I went to Best Buy to pick up a gift for my godson. I also snagged a few movies for myself. I did some quick math in my head $50 + $32 + $14 would be about $95 and 5% tax would bring me slightly over $100 (yes, I know, 50 + 32 + 14 = 96, but when I do things in my head, I round to easy numbers, like 50 + 30 + 15). Immediately after I put my items on the counter, I pull out one fifty and three twenties from my wallet. Sure enough, the total was shy of $103. The guy at the counter was around 50 years old. He took my money, and slowly counted out $110 (50, 70, 90, 110). He says, "One - ten, right?"
I nodded, "Yup."
Then he acted unsure of himself, and confided, "I'm not very good at math," and then slowly counted out the money again. Finally, he managed to convince himself that I did in fact give him $110, and punched it into the register. "I'm not good at math," he repeated, "that's why I teach French."
With supreme effort, I resisted the impulse to roll my eyes. Then I get my change. Slowly. Five... pause... pause... two more dollar bills... pause... 13 cents change.
I'm not quick myself. At a leisure pace, I put the bills in my wallet, and the change in my pocket. As I finish up and while I'm in the motion to pick up my bag, he says, "All set."
I'm not sure that last part wasn't a question.
I just love it when an argument used in a very narrow topic has obvious wide application. From Pope John Paul II in Love and Responsibility:
Truth is a condition of freedom, for if a man can preserve his freedom in relation to the objects which thrust themselves on him in the course of his activity as good and desirable, it is only because he is capable of viewing these goods in the light of truth and so adopting an independent attitude to them. Without this faculty man would inevitably be determined by them: these goods would take possession of him and determine totally the character of his actions and the whole direction of his activity. His ability to discover the truth gives the man the possibility of self-determination, of deciding for himself the character and direction of his own actions, and that is what freedom means.
By the way, this hints at my upcoming Soapbox topic. Stay tuned to this channel.
My little tussle with John brought a new insight (see here and here). Obedience is love. Just a little further up from John 14:23 is John 14:15:
"If you love me, you will obey what I command."
No, it's not incredibly brilliant. It's almost Orwellian: Obedience is Love. That's the point. In America, it cuts against that anti-authoritarian grain.
Almost a year and a half ago as Mark Shea, Rod Dreher, and Fr. Wilson were making wise comments about the Catholic Church's sex scandals, my meager contribution was to quote John 21. Here's an extended quote (NIV, John 21:15-19):
15 When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?"
"Yes, Lord," he said, "you know that I love you."
Jesus said, "Feed my lambs."
16 Again Jesus said, "Simon son of John, do you truly love me?"
He answered, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."
Jesus said, "Take care of my sheep."
17 The third time he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?"
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, "Do you love me?" He said, "Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you."
18 Jesus said, "Feed my sheep. I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."
19 Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, "Follow me!"
Jesus's three question's parallel Peter's three denials. There is also the view that Jesus talking about sacrificial love while Peter replies with brotherly love (I found this page in a Google search, which discusses both statements). I don't want to take away from that. But Jesus is also asking for obedience. "Do you love me?" is bound to "Feed my sheep."
It's no secret that the American Catholic Church has failed to catechize American Catholics. America bishops have failed to carry out Christ's command. "Do you love me?" I agree that this failure is not ubiquitous throughout AmChurch. I lay this blame on the "Spirit of Vatican II" liberal finger-painting catechesis. Love ain't just Kumbaya my Lord. It's more than that. It's obedience. There's just no way to connect your "love of God" with dissent to the Church's teachings on abortion.
And then there is the opposite end of the spectrum. Mark Shea loves to point out that RadTrad SSPXers and the like are bitter people. It's no secret where I go next. With Feeneyites, SSPXers, and sedevacantists, the central issue is obedience. It's no wonder that they're bitter.
But more than this. The first commandment is to love God with all your heart. That does not square with disobedience.
"Do you love me?"
My first post is here. John replies that I don't quite see it his way. My response to him follows the same theme as first part. John's words are indented italics.
Except that I also separate Faith and Religion. You, as is evidenced by our discussions, do not seem to draw that distinction. (We have not directly discussed this context so I might be wrong in my conclusion.)
And then...
For all intents they [liberal Catholics who "support" abortion] fancy themselves, and the world fancies them as "practical Catholics". They are dead solid perfect on the religion, but they are faithless.
And so you conclude the separation of faith and and religion is a good thing?
You know it might be a great idea to separate religion (a system of belief and principles) and faith (belief in the Truth) as a theoretical exercise. It's also an exercise in deconstruction and reductionism. So I won't be doing that as a practical exercise.
I could not separate my belief from the sacraments -- particularly, the Blessed Sacrament. "Then Jesus declared, 'I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.'" (John 6:35) There is connection between the Christ and the Blessed Sacrament, between the Christ and the Apostles, between the Apostles and the bishops.
"What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work today in the vineyard.'
"'I will not,' he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.
"Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, 'I will, sir,' but he did not go.
"Which of the two did what his father wanted?"
"The first," they answered.
Jesus said to them, "I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him."
(Matt 21:28-32)
Your "practicing Catholics" are not practicing their religion. They have failed to obey. They are the second son.
Jesus replied, "If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. He who does not love me will not obey my teaching. These words you hear are not my own; they belong to the Father who sent me."
(John 14:23-24)
And then...
"All this I have spoken while still with you. But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."
(John 14:25-27)
The Body of Christ and the Holy Spirit are present in the world to this day.
I've been tangling with my friend John at Zillas again. John's words are indented italics.
"I still don't mix faith and politics"
Despite the concern that I'll reinforce the persistent idea that I've some sort of insight on the judgement of God (or the idea that I believe I do), I feel obliged to write that this is a tepid statement of faith. Oh, I understand all the arguments about the separation of church and state, but I don't understand the separation of individual from morals. When you examine the statement above in its most charitable sense (i.e., he will refrain from imposing his religous beliefs on others), you are left with the most hollow sense of faith.
I can't imagine that I could separate my sense of faith/morals/religion from myself. I am an integrated, whole, functioning human being. I can't imagine acting in any way that is not informed by my faith (excepting of course when I sin). The most classic example of the extension of John's thinking is the politically leftist Catholic who claims that his personal beliefs on abortion have no bearing on his legislative voting record.
Another way of stating it is: my faith is part of me.
This parched statement is related to the above:
"As to organized religion... there are those who feel the whole thing is a false choice - Benjamin Franklin epitomized that feeling. He believed in God, just not the fallible institutions that professed belief in Him."
Surprisingly, I agree with this. The Church is the Body of Christ. The Church should not be confused with the visible fallible human members who make up that body, and it should be remembered that the Church is guided by the Holy Spirit. So, yes I believe in God, and not in fallible institutions.
But I also know that John will fail to grasp this. His expertise in American politics pollutes or twists his thinking in other areas. Everything must fit into that particular template of thinking. Now, I stress that George Weigel is an expert in Church politics, because in America, everyone seems to be in love with the idea of experts (including, sadly, American bishops).
Here's his take of the next conclave.
Consider, for example, what are often reported as the most controversial matters in the pontificate of John Paul II: abortion, homosexuality and ordination of women to the priesthood. The assumption is that, in the next conclave, the cardinal-electors will sort themselves out in conventional "conservative" and "liberal" camps around these questions. In fact, it won't work that way. John Paul II hasn't been teaching the personal opinions of Karol Wojtyla on these matters, he's been teaching the settled doctrine of the Catholic Church. That doctrine isn't going to change in the next pontificate, or in the 10 pontificates after that, because popes are the servants of doctrine, not its masters. What are frequently thought to be "the issues" in the next conclave aren't issues at all.
In the highly individualistic United States, it's difficult to understand that anyone is a servant of anything. So the pope and bishops are viewed as a rulers of an institution, rather than as shepherds to the faithful. Failing to see that even popes must obey, the call to obedience chafes against John's American ideal.
Disobedience was the original sin. And obedience to individual conscience is a nonsense phrase.
Mark Shea complains about our Robed Masters ruling on PBA.
I decided to use a different tack in his comments box:
Lemme see here. There's these Partial Birth Abortion bans which are deemed unconstitutional cause there's no exception for the health of the mother.Step 1: Baby is part way out. (Acceptable risk in PBA procedure)
Step 2: Pull baby all the way out. (Thereby reducing the risk in PBA procedure)
Problem solved!Obviously, I ain't a Doctor or Jurist, 'cuz the preceding just ain't complicated enough.
I are too stoopid to be doctor or judge.
Well that didn't work out too well. Aaron Butler took it too literally, and pointed out that if you pulled on the partially born baby it's head would pop off ["The other option (as opposed to crushing the skull) is to keep pulling until the baby's head pops off"]. Wow. And somehow he confused my statement with Seamus's following post.I reply
Aaron/Artist,You wrote to Seamus: Contrary to what you seem to think, it's impossible to just pull the whole fetus out alive in this situation.
Hey! Give credit where credit is due. I'm the only stoopid person to use the verb "pull" in this comment box (other than your follow up comments). Please don't attach the word to Seamus.
What's in dispute is whether PBA is the most healthy option for the mother. This doctor says that's highly doubtful.
What's not in dispute is whether this is the most healthy option for the baby.
What I find amazing is the insistence that PBA is a legitimate procedure that requires the death of the baby (instead of simply removing the baby) for the sake of the mother's heath. That dog won't hunt.