A Cassandra Cry Against Pope Francis
Emma
Green, The Atlantic, April 22, 2018
Ross
Douthat’s views on the pope are intensely unpopular. But has he identified a fundamental
tension in the Church?
Douthat’s views on the pope are intensely unpopular. But has he identified a fundamental
tension in the Church?
 |
|
Remo
Casilli / Reuters |
Across
every continent, in every country, Catholics “find themselves divided against
one another,” writes the New York Times columnist Ross Douthat in his new book,
To Change the Church. On one side stand the orthodox, who see doctrine and
tradition as the best antidote to a changing world. On the other stand the
liberals, who yearn for a Church that focuses on pastoring rather than
enforcing rigid rules. This “widening theological and moral gulf,” Douthat
argues, is potentially “wider than the chasm that separated Catholicism from
Orthodoxy, and later from Lutheranism and Calvinism.”
That’s a
bold claim to make. After all, the schisms of East and West, Catholic and
Protestant, were world-shaking, often bloody events. But in today’s Church—and
specifically in this pope—Douthat sees the possibility that the Roman Catholic
Church will once again break apart.
bold claim to make. After all, the schisms of East and West, Catholic and
Protestant, were world-shaking, often bloody events. But in today’s Church—and
specifically in this pope—Douthat sees the possibility that the Roman Catholic
Church will once again break apart.
Ostensibly,
his beef is with Pope Francis, whom Douthat paints as an unyielding and
stubborn manager who has spent his five years in Rome failing the clean up the
Vatican’s messes, hurling insults at conservative clerics, and pushing radical
doctrinal changes without buy-in from major wings of the Catholic hierarchy. He
writes skeptically about Francis’s imagery and rhetoric of mercy, from pictures
of the pontiff kissing a man covered in boils to his controversial declaration,
“Who am I to judge?” about gay men searching for God. But at its core,
Douthat’s book is about a vast, pre-modern institution’s halting evolution into
modern times, and whether it can sufficiently adapt to maintain unified
influence over 1.3 billion adherents spanning Africa to Asia to the Americas.
“This is a hinge moment in the history of Catholicism,” Douthat writes. While
he is unlikely to change many minds about controversial Catholic issues or
reshape people’s opinions of the pope, Douthat is digging at a question present
in every aspect of contemporary culture and politics: How can those who
primarily wish to preserve their culture live in community with those who cheer
for for inexorable change?
his beef is with Pope Francis, whom Douthat paints as an unyielding and
stubborn manager who has spent his five years in Rome failing the clean up the
Vatican’s messes, hurling insults at conservative clerics, and pushing radical
doctrinal changes without buy-in from major wings of the Catholic hierarchy. He
writes skeptically about Francis’s imagery and rhetoric of mercy, from pictures
of the pontiff kissing a man covered in boils to his controversial declaration,
“Who am I to judge?” about gay men searching for God. But at its core,
Douthat’s book is about a vast, pre-modern institution’s halting evolution into
modern times, and whether it can sufficiently adapt to maintain unified
influence over 1.3 billion adherents spanning Africa to Asia to the Americas.
“This is a hinge moment in the history of Catholicism,” Douthat writes. While
he is unlikely to change many minds about controversial Catholic issues or
reshape people’s opinions of the pope, Douthat is digging at a question present
in every aspect of contemporary culture and politics: How can those who
primarily wish to preserve their culture live in community with those who cheer
for for inexorable change?
Douthat
comes to this book with some baggage. In the U.S., he has been the most
prominent lay voice of Francis opposition, rehearsing the argument for his book
in the pages
of this magazine and The New York Times, where he often writes
about the pope with intense disdain. His focus is almost always on
one topic: the pope’s efforts to address issues related to family. Early in his
papacy, Pope Francis convened two meetings of Catholic bishops, called synods.
The pope seemed to feel that the Church had not figured out how to serve people
whose lives don’t fit the Christian ideal, from single moms to same-sex couples
to those who have been civilly divorced and remarried. The format of the
meetings was somewhat chaotic and very Francis, drawing on his Latin American
background and the tradition of his order, the Jesuits: Small groups of bishops
were assigned to meet and discuss a number of agenda items, discerning together
how to answer these people’s needs with doctrinal integrity.
comes to this book with some baggage. In the U.S., he has been the most
prominent lay voice of Francis opposition, rehearsing the argument for his book
in the pages
of this magazine and The New York Times, where he often writes
about the pope with intense disdain. His focus is almost always on
one topic: the pope’s efforts to address issues related to family. Early in his
papacy, Pope Francis convened two meetings of Catholic bishops, called synods.
The pope seemed to feel that the Church had not figured out how to serve people
whose lives don’t fit the Christian ideal, from single moms to same-sex couples
to those who have been civilly divorced and remarried. The format of the
meetings was somewhat chaotic and very Francis, drawing on his Latin American
background and the tradition of his order, the Jesuits: Small groups of bishops
were assigned to meet and discuss a number of agenda items, discerning together
how to answer these people’s needs with doctrinal integrity.
From the
start, there was controversy. Before the first synod was even over, Vatican leaders
hosted a press conference and hinted at a surprising possibility: Local
parishes might be able to determine when remarried Catholics can receive
communion, even in cases that previously would have been denied outright.
According to Douthat—or more specifically, the reporters he relies on—many
bishops were shocked at what they saw as a unilateral decision by Francis and a
few of his liberal supporters. In the days that followed, the disagreements
played out in the press, and prominent clergy staged private interventions with
their colleagues. By the end, the initial findings had been softened
significantly. But even at the conclusion of the second synod the next fall,
the implications of the meetings remained unclear. Ultimately, it was up to the
pope to synthesize the bishops’ findings.
start, there was controversy. Before the first synod was even over, Vatican leaders
hosted a press conference and hinted at a surprising possibility: Local
parishes might be able to determine when remarried Catholics can receive
communion, even in cases that previously would have been denied outright.
According to Douthat—or more specifically, the reporters he relies on—many
bishops were shocked at what they saw as a unilateral decision by Francis and a
few of his liberal supporters. In the days that followed, the disagreements
played out in the press, and prominent clergy staged private interventions with
their colleagues. By the end, the initial findings had been softened
significantly. But even at the conclusion of the second synod the next fall,
the implications of the meetings remained unclear. Ultimately, it was up to the
pope to synthesize the bishops’ findings.
Six
months later, he did—sort of. Released in April 2016, Amoris laetitia, or “The
Joy of Love,” includes Francis’s long reflections on familial love and a call
for the Church to stay away from “a far too abstract and almost artificial
theological ideal of marriage.” Once again, the pope had invited controversy:
The document stipulates that “it is possible that in an objective situation of
sin … a person can be living in God’s grace … while receiving the Church’s help.”
In certain cases, the pope added in a footnote, this can include the “help of
the sacraments,” apparently suggesting that people in sinful living
arrangements might be able to take communion. While many Church leaders
welcomed this pastoral flexibility, others complained that it created
ambiguity—“what is sin in Poland is good in Germany,” wrote four conservative
cardinals in a letter to the pope—or even directly violated the teachings of
the Church.
months later, he did—sort of. Released in April 2016, Amoris laetitia, or “The
Joy of Love,” includes Francis’s long reflections on familial love and a call
for the Church to stay away from “a far too abstract and almost artificial
theological ideal of marriage.” Once again, the pope had invited controversy:
The document stipulates that “it is possible that in an objective situation of
sin … a person can be living in God’s grace … while receiving the Church’s help.”
In certain cases, the pope added in a footnote, this can include the “help of
the sacraments,” apparently suggesting that people in sinful living
arrangements might be able to take communion. While many Church leaders
welcomed this pastoral flexibility, others complained that it created
ambiguity—“what is sin in Poland is good in Germany,” wrote four conservative
cardinals in a letter to the pope—or even directly violated the teachings of
the Church.
Douthat
was, and is, in the latter camp. He began tossing
the word “schism” around. He published a scathing Times
column accusing the pope of being the “chief plotter” in the
Vatican’s Renaissance-court-style politics. A large group of prominent liberal
American clergy and theologians published a response
letter, pointing out that Douthat does not have theological
credentials, warning him of the seriousness of accusations of heresy, and
arguing that his “view of Catholicism [is] unapologetically subject to a politically
partisan narrative that has very little to do with what Catholicism really is.”
Although Douthat’s criticism of Francis is phrased more carefully in his book
than it often is in his columns, his eye-rolling is still apparent: The
columnist negatively compares Francis to President Donald Trump, dangles the
word “heretic,” and looks down on the pope’s management style. One of Francis’s
favorite phrases is “make a mess!,” Douthat writes. “In that much he has
succeeded.”
was, and is, in the latter camp. He began tossing
the word “schism” around. He published a scathing Times
column accusing the pope of being the “chief plotter” in the
Vatican’s Renaissance-court-style politics. A large group of prominent liberal
American clergy and theologians published a response
letter, pointing out that Douthat does not have theological
credentials, warning him of the seriousness of accusations of heresy, and
arguing that his “view of Catholicism [is] unapologetically subject to a politically
partisan narrative that has very little to do with what Catholicism really is.”
Although Douthat’s criticism of Francis is phrased more carefully in his book
than it often is in his columns, his eye-rolling is still apparent: The
columnist negatively compares Francis to President Donald Trump, dangles the
word “heretic,” and looks down on the pope’s management style. One of Francis’s
favorite phrases is “make a mess!,” Douthat writes. “In that much he has
succeeded.”
The
outcry against Douthat has only intensified with the publication of this book.
Left-wing Catholic writers have already begun lining up against him, contesting
his narrative of the synods and lack of original reporting, which forces him to
rely on anonymous insider details from a handful of Vatican watchers with
varying degrees of ideological bias and credibility. “Would you buy or
recommend a book on the American president written by a journalist who does not
read/speak English, and does not know firsthand the USA and Washington, D.C.?”
tweeted Massimo Faggioli, a liberal Catholic professor at Villanova and
inveterate Church watcher.
outcry against Douthat has only intensified with the publication of this book.
Left-wing Catholic writers have already begun lining up against him, contesting
his narrative of the synods and lack of original reporting, which forces him to
rely on anonymous insider details from a handful of Vatican watchers with
varying degrees of ideological bias and credibility. “Would you buy or
recommend a book on the American president written by a journalist who does not
read/speak English, and does not know firsthand the USA and Washington, D.C.?”
tweeted Massimo Faggioli, a liberal Catholic professor at Villanova and
inveterate Church watcher.
Despite
its limitations, Douthat’s perch conservative gadfly changes the context of the
book in two important ways. Although he spends an enormous number of words
describing the insider-y twists and turns around Amoris, he writes with the
mind of the columnist: The bigger stakes, about the potentially devastating
consequences of change in an era dedicated to progress, are always in sight.
its limitations, Douthat’s perch conservative gadfly changes the context of the
book in two important ways. Although he spends an enormous number of words
describing the insider-y twists and turns around Amoris, he writes with the
mind of the columnist: The bigger stakes, about the potentially devastating
consequences of change in an era dedicated to progress, are always in sight.
Second,
he is not primarily writing as a Catholic authority or political pundit; he’s
writing as a parishioner. This grounds the book: Douthat is mounting not
dispassionate analysis, but a personal plea. He offers a bit of psychological
grist at the outset, acknowledging his lack of formal theological training and
identifying himself as “the good bad Catholic or the bad good one, whose
loyalty was stronger than his faith and whose faith was stronger than his
practice, but who didn’t want the church to change all the rules to make his
practice easier because then what would really be the point?”
he is not primarily writing as a Catholic authority or political pundit; he’s
writing as a parishioner. This grounds the book: Douthat is mounting not
dispassionate analysis, but a personal plea. He offers a bit of psychological
grist at the outset, acknowledging his lack of formal theological training and
identifying himself as “the good bad Catholic or the bad good one, whose
loyalty was stronger than his faith and whose faith was stronger than his
practice, but who didn’t want the church to change all the rules to make his
practice easier because then what would really be the point?”
He is, in
other words, someone sees doctrine—the teachings, the legal system, the bedrock
principles grounded in text—as the animating force of Christianity. His book
“assumes the Church needs a settled core of doctrine, a clear unbroken link to
the New Testament and the early Church, for Catholicism’s claims and structure
and demands to make any sense at all.” This is why he focuses so intently on
issues related to human sexuality and marriage: These have become the primary
symbolic battlefield for “larger and more comprehensive disagreements about the
purpose of the Church, the authority of the Bible, the nature of the
sacraments, the definition of sin, the means of redemption, the true identity
of Jesus, the very nature of God.”
other words, someone sees doctrine—the teachings, the legal system, the bedrock
principles grounded in text—as the animating force of Christianity. His book
“assumes the Church needs a settled core of doctrine, a clear unbroken link to
the New Testament and the early Church, for Catholicism’s claims and structure
and demands to make any sense at all.” This is why he focuses so intently on
issues related to human sexuality and marriage: These have become the primary
symbolic battlefield for “larger and more comprehensive disagreements about the
purpose of the Church, the authority of the Bible, the nature of the
sacraments, the definition of sin, the means of redemption, the true identity
of Jesus, the very nature of God.”
While
most Catholics might not disagree with Douthat’s claims about doctrine outright,
some—including the pope—would likely foreground their description differently.
Catholicism, like any religion, is indeed a set of principles and writings and
teachings, but it is also the lived experience of the body of believers—the
church, little c. Lived religion is inevitably messier than doctrine; people’s
lives and human communities confound the kind of neat, logical boxes found in
Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologica or canon law. And Catholicism offers perhaps
the richest examples of diversity within one tradition. From the folk saints of
Mexico to charismatic worship in Kenya, Catholic communities often push the
rigid boundaries of doctrine to find a religious expression that fits their
distinctive history and tradition.
most Catholics might not disagree with Douthat’s claims about doctrine outright,
some—including the pope—would likely foreground their description differently.
Catholicism, like any religion, is indeed a set of principles and writings and
teachings, but it is also the lived experience of the body of believers—the
church, little c. Lived religion is inevitably messier than doctrine; people’s
lives and human communities confound the kind of neat, logical boxes found in
Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologica or canon law. And Catholicism offers perhaps
the richest examples of diversity within one tradition. From the folk saints of
Mexico to charismatic worship in Kenya, Catholic communities often push the
rigid boundaries of doctrine to find a religious expression that fits their
distinctive history and tradition.
Pope
Francis tends to privilege this story of lived experience and human communities
when he talks about the Church. He often speaks about the need for clergy to
have “the smell of the sheep,” to go out and be shepherds among the dirty, sinful
flocks of believers rather than becoming “sad priests … in some sense becoming
collectors of antiques or novelties,” as he said during his first
Holy Thursday mass as pope. He largely favors a Vatican II-style
devolution of power, giving individual pastors and bishops some room to adapt
to the particular needs of their communities. As Douthat puts it, rather
saltily, Francis has “an affinity for the kind of Catholic culture in which
mass attendance is spotty but the local saint’s processions are packed—a style
of faith that’s supernaturalist but not particularly doctrinal.”
Francis tends to privilege this story of lived experience and human communities
when he talks about the Church. He often speaks about the need for clergy to
have “the smell of the sheep,” to go out and be shepherds among the dirty, sinful
flocks of believers rather than becoming “sad priests … in some sense becoming
collectors of antiques or novelties,” as he said during his first
Holy Thursday mass as pope. He largely favors a Vatican II-style
devolution of power, giving individual pastors and bishops some room to adapt
to the particular needs of their communities. As Douthat puts it, rather
saltily, Francis has “an affinity for the kind of Catholic culture in which
mass attendance is spotty but the local saint’s processions are packed—a style
of faith that’s supernaturalist but not particularly doctrinal.”
In a
roundabout way, the pope’s pastoral orientation could be read as a response to
the rise of nation states, capitalism, and globalization. The sheer scale of
the Church strains against the imperative of doctrinal uniformity. As Douthat
writes, the Church’s influence over secular politics has declined sharply; the
idea of papal states, or even a U.S. president being compromised by his loyalty
to the pope, seems bizarre today. And the role of the bishop of Rome has become
marketed “as the globetrotting do-gooder CEO of Catholicism, Inc.” rather than
spiritual father, Douthat argues: “Each pope is treated not just as the supreme
governor of the church but as its singular embodiment, the Catholic answer to
Gandhi or Mandela, the Beatles or the Stones.” Francis’s solution is to embrace
a flexible, ecumenical spirit, both within Catholicism and without: It’s no
coincidence that he has put rapprochement with Roman Catholicism’s closest
cousins, the Lutheran and Orthodox churches, high on his priority list over the
last five years.
roundabout way, the pope’s pastoral orientation could be read as a response to
the rise of nation states, capitalism, and globalization. The sheer scale of
the Church strains against the imperative of doctrinal uniformity. As Douthat
writes, the Church’s influence over secular politics has declined sharply; the
idea of papal states, or even a U.S. president being compromised by his loyalty
to the pope, seems bizarre today. And the role of the bishop of Rome has become
marketed “as the globetrotting do-gooder CEO of Catholicism, Inc.” rather than
spiritual father, Douthat argues: “Each pope is treated not just as the supreme
governor of the church but as its singular embodiment, the Catholic answer to
Gandhi or Mandela, the Beatles or the Stones.” Francis’s solution is to embrace
a flexible, ecumenical spirit, both within Catholicism and without: It’s no
coincidence that he has put rapprochement with Roman Catholicism’s closest
cousins, the Lutheran and Orthodox churches, high on his priority list over the
last five years.
The key,
in all of this, is mutual recognition—maintaining enough of the core,
distinctive elements of the faith to still feel spiritual kinship across these
communities of vast difference. As Douthat points out, this recognition has
been historically fraught within the Church, as when Pope Francis’s own order,
the Jesuits, battled the French Jansenists, who pushed a strict, ascetic
interpretation of Catholic doctrine.
in all of this, is mutual recognition—maintaining enough of the core,
distinctive elements of the faith to still feel spiritual kinship across these
communities of vast difference. As Douthat points out, this recognition has
been historically fraught within the Church, as when Pope Francis’s own order,
the Jesuits, battled the French Jansenists, who pushed a strict, ascetic
interpretation of Catholic doctrine.
More
recently, similar tensions over the challenges of modern life have divided
non-Catholic Christian traditions, leading to tenuous truces filled with barely
concealed enmity or, in some cases, outright schism: conservative Anglicans
breaking with liberal Episcopalians over same-sex marriage; the Cooperative
Baptist Fellowship leaving the Southern Baptist Convention over women in
ministry. While the Roman Catholic Church has not gone through an analogous
split, Douthat writes, “the likelihood of crisis, breakage, [and] schism [are]
far too high to justify … blithe assumptions about inevitable continuity.”
recently, similar tensions over the challenges of modern life have divided
non-Catholic Christian traditions, leading to tenuous truces filled with barely
concealed enmity or, in some cases, outright schism: conservative Anglicans
breaking with liberal Episcopalians over same-sex marriage; the Cooperative
Baptist Fellowship leaving the Southern Baptist Convention over women in
ministry. While the Roman Catholic Church has not gone through an analogous
split, Douthat writes, “the likelihood of crisis, breakage, [and] schism [are]
far too high to justify … blithe assumptions about inevitable continuity.”
Douthat
admits that there is “no vast army of restive Catholics ready to march out of
their parishes in protest if their bishops or pastors [interpret] the pope’s
reforms in one particular fashion or another.” A small, vocal minority of
conservative clergy and bloggers are deeply unsatisfied with Francis, but they
are just that: a small minority.
admits that there is “no vast army of restive Catholics ready to march out of
their parishes in protest if their bishops or pastors [interpret] the pope’s
reforms in one particular fashion or another.” A small, vocal minority of
conservative clergy and bloggers are deeply unsatisfied with Francis, but they
are just that: a small minority.
Here
again, though, the stakes are potentially larger. Douthat sees Francis’s
pontificate as a missed opportunity to speak into this chaotic worldwide political
moment, “to raise the Church’s banner, to offer a distinctively Catholic sort
of synthesis—one that would speak to the right’s fear that the West’s
civilizational roots are crumbling and to the left’s disappointment with the
rule of neoliberalism.” Instead, Douthat argues, Francis “has judged his
church’s conservatives harshly while confirming the fears that pushed many of
them toward conservative politics in the first place—the fear that a left-wing
Catholic politics is inextricably linked to revolution in theology as well.”
again, though, the stakes are potentially larger. Douthat sees Francis’s
pontificate as a missed opportunity to speak into this chaotic worldwide political
moment, “to raise the Church’s banner, to offer a distinctively Catholic sort
of synthesis—one that would speak to the right’s fear that the West’s
civilizational roots are crumbling and to the left’s disappointment with the
rule of neoliberalism.” Instead, Douthat argues, Francis “has judged his
church’s conservatives harshly while confirming the fears that pushed many of
them toward conservative politics in the first place—the fear that a left-wing
Catholic politics is inextricably linked to revolution in theology as well.”
Ultimately,
Douthat’s disagreement with the pope comes down to their competing visions for
Catholic unity. Francis seems to believe the Church can best sustain its moral
core by allowing flexibility around the edges of practice. But Douthat is
adamant that doctrine is the moral core of the Church; too much flexibility, he
says, leads not to fellowship, but fracture.
Douthat’s disagreement with the pope comes down to their competing visions for
Catholic unity. Francis seems to believe the Church can best sustain its moral
core by allowing flexibility around the edges of practice. But Douthat is
adamant that doctrine is the moral core of the Church; too much flexibility, he
says, leads not to fellowship, but fracture.
This
matters, because unity matters in the Church—little c or big. Jesus calls on
believers to be one flock in community together, and any loss of comity might
be interpreted by some as evidence of human failure to make good on that
vision. This pope will test whether it’s possible to maintain connectedness
among communities of incredible diversity in a time of immense change—or
whether the politics of the day inevitably lead to tribal fights among the
faithful.
matters, because unity matters in the Church—little c or big. Jesus calls on
believers to be one flock in community together, and any loss of comity might
be interpreted by some as evidence of human failure to make good on that
vision. This pope will test whether it’s possible to maintain connectedness
among communities of incredible diversity in a time of immense change—or
whether the politics of the day inevitably lead to tribal fights among the
faithful.
