Posted on 10/13/2006 4:59:56 PM PDT by NYer
Back in 2001, when I first started writing about the child sex-abuse scandal in the Church, Father Tom Doyle, the heroic priest who ruined his own career by speaking out for victims, warned me, "If you keep going down this path, you are going to go to places darker than you can imagine." I thought I understood what he meant, but I didn't. Even if I had, by then, I couldn't have stopped. What brought me in touch with Fr. Doyle was my having stumbled upon a cell of clerical molesters at a Carmelite parish in the Bronx. They had preyed on a teenage immigrant boy who was troubled, and whose father was back in Nicaragua. His mother sent him to the priests for counseling, thinking that maybe being around some men of God would do the boy some good. The priests ended up molesting him. When the boy's father arrived in the States and found out what had happened, he went to the Archdiocese of New York to tell them what happened. They offered to cut him a check if he'd sign a paper agreeing to let the Archdiocese's attorneys handle the matter.
And that's how it began for me. At the time, as the father of a young boy, I couldn't shake the thought What if this had happened to my family? Would we be treated this way by the Archdiocese? ...
The sex-abuse scandal can't be easily separated from the wider crisis in the American Catholic Church, involving the corruption of the liturgy, of catechesis, and so forth. I've come to understand how important this point is, because if most other things had been more or less solid, I think I could have weathered the storm. But I found it impossible to find solid ground.
...
After months, we finally made a decision: we would visit an Orthodox parish. As Catholics, we knew at least that the Sacraments there were valid. Though we couldn't receive communion, we could at least be in the presence of the Eucharistic Christ, and worship liturgically with them, and draw close to God on Sunday morning, however imperfectly. I can hardly express the burden of guilt I felt when I crossed the threshold of St. Seraphim's parish that morning. But you know, it was a wonderful place. The liturgy was breathtakingly beautiful. The preaching orthodox. And the people -- half of them Russian, most of the others converts -- could hardly have been kinder and more welcoming. As a new Episcopalian friend told me a couple of weeks ago after he visited St. Seraphim's, "There is life there."
We kept going back, and finally got invited to dinner at the archbishop's house. I feared it would be a stiff, formal affair. I was astonished to turn up at the address given, to find that it was the shabby little cottage behind the cathedral. We went in, and it was like being at a family reunion. Vladika's house was jammed with parishioners celebrating a feast day with ... a feast. There was Archbishop Dmitri in the middle of it all, looking like a grandfatherly Gandalf. I had never in all my years as a Catholic been around people who felt that way about their bishop. The whole thing was dizzying -- the fellowship, the prayerfulness, the feeling of family. I hadn't realized how starved I was for a church community.
Over time, we got to know the people of the parish. They became our friends. It was a new experience for me to be in a parish where you can be openly small-o orthodox, and the priest and the people support you in that. In "Crunchy Cons," the Orthodox convert (from RCism) Hugh O'Beirne says that Catholics new to the Orthodox Church may find it surprising that they don't have to be on a "war footing" -- meaning the culture wars don't intrude into worship. People are on the same page, and if they're not, they're not out trying to get the Church to change her position on abortion, gay marriage, inclusive language, and all that. As someone who more or less is on the front lines of the culture war every day in my job as a journalist, I found it a new and welcome experience to be able to go to church on Sunday and get built back up for the struggle ahead, instead of to find mass the most debilitating hour of the week.
Julie and I could see what was happening to us: we were falling in love with Orthodoxy. On several occasions, we stopped to check ourselves. But we couldn't bring ourselves to leave this place, where we were back in touch with Christ, and learning to serve Him in community, to return to what we had experienced as a spiritual desert. I know this is not every Catholic's experience, but this was ours.
......
I had to admit that I had never seriously considered the case for Orthodoxy. Now I had to do that. And it was difficult poring through the arguments about papal primacy. I'll spare you the details, but I will say that I came to seriously doubt Rome's claims. Reading the accounts of the First Vatican Council, and how they arrived at the dogma of papal infallibility, was a shock to me: I realized that I simply couldn't believe the doctrine. And if that falls, it all falls. Of course I immediately set upon myself, doubting my thinking because doubting my motives. You're just trying to talk yourself into something, I thought. And truth to tell, there was a lot of that, I'm sure.
But what I noticed during all this Sturm und Drang over doctrine was this: we were happy again as a family, and at peace. Julie said one day driving home from liturgy, "Isn't it great to look forward to going to church again?" ... Here I was beginning to live a more Christ-like life as a fellow traveler of Orthodoxy, and knowing that if I went back to full-fledged Catholicism, I would be returning to anger and despair. What does it mean to live in the Christian truth in that situation? How would I feel if I approached the Judgment Seat and said to God, "I lived as a depressed and embittered man, lost my children to the Christian faith, and was a terrible witness to your goodness. But Lord, thanks to you, I never left Catholicism."
It was not an abstract question for me. I wondered: is the point of our life on earth to become like Jesus, or is it to maintain formal affiliation with the Roman Catholic Church? ...
I can look back also and see that my own intellectual pride helped me build a weak foundation for my faith. When I converted to Catholicism in 1992 (I entered the Church formally in 1993), it was a sincere Christian conversion. But I also took on as my own all the cultural and intellectual trappings of the American Catholic right. I remember feeling so grateful for the privilege and gift of being Catholic, but there was a part of me that thought, "Yay! I'm on the A-Team now, the New York Yankees of Christianity. I'm on Father Neuhaus's team!" ...
A few weeks back, I mentioned to Julie on the way to St. Seraphim's one morning, "I'm now part of a small church that nobody's heard of, with zero cultural influence in America, and in a tiny parish that's materially poor. I think that's just where I need to be."
...
As far as tradition goes, I have moved with my family to a church that I believe stands a much better chance of maintaining the historic Christian deposit of faith over time. To be more blunt, I have moved to a church that in my judgment within which I and my family and my descendants will be better able to withstand modernity. Basically, though -- and this is as blunt as I can be -- I'm in a church where I can trust the spiritual headship of the clergy, and where most people want to know more about the faith, and how we can conform our lives to it, rather than wanting to run away from it or hide it so nobody has to be offended.
"...and to get other Orthodox thoughts on this."
Thus far I think you are doing just fine, K. As to the question on the table, because there is no "consent" as such in the Orthodox Mystery of Marriage, I can't see where an annulment would situation would ever arise. Annulment is a juridicial concept and as such is alien to Orthodoxy. Capacity to freely "consent" to the sacrament isn't part of Orthodox understanding. You know, this consent idea crops up in other places. For example, giving communion to someone who does not understand the sacrament, like babies or persons with mental retardation or mental diseases. At any rate, for us I think calling a spade a spade is best. A divorce is just that, a divorce. Its not a good thing at all and while for us it may not involve legalistic considerations of contract/vow breaking, it certainly means breaching the bonds of the sacrament. For that matter, neither is remarriage after the death of a spouse. There is no "'til death do us part" vow in Orthodoxy. The Church however recognizes that human beings screw up big time and in this context it feels that allowing by the episcopal exercise of economia, a remarriage is less sinful than falling prey to fleshly temptations outside of marriage. It is for this reason that second marriages are penitential in nature and thrid ones positively funereal!
Very well said! Thank you.
"--- is it also possible to get an annulment in the Orthodx Church? Meaning, an investigation and a declaration of nullity, ruling that this was never a truly a sacramental marriage?"
Kolokotronis would be more up on the canonical points, I think. But in general I still think that people in the situations you mention would get an ecclesiastical divorce, not an annulment.
Since for us a marriage is something that God does through the Church, without contractual elements, that would be the same as saying that someone who walked up for communion who hadn't been baptized and "slipped through" didn't receive the Body and Blood of Christ, since his reception of communion was grossly defective.
Even in the situations mentioned by you, the people were still married by the Church. One can't pretend that they stood in front of a priest wearing robes, had their clothing saturated with the smell of incense, and processed while "Rejoice, O Isaiah..." was being sung -- and had no idea that they were being married by the Church.
I would think that only cases of gross coercion would fit the bill for anullment for us.
I would like to ask you for more insight about the sin of taking--- as distinguished from giving --- scandal. I may be susceptible to "taking scandal"; how can I avoid this sin, and help others similarly vulnerable (e.g. a friend like Rod Dreher?)
I'm still not very clear on this.
"Since for us a marriage is something that God does through the Church, without contractual elements, that would be the same as saying that someone who walked up for communion who hadn't been baptized and "slipped through" didn't receive the Body and Blood of Christ, since his reception of communion was grossly defective."
Right, I understand that the Body and Blood of Christ are still the Body and Blood, even if the person receiving is unbaptized, ignorant, unbelieving, in serious sin, etc. But that's because the Holy Spirit, through the action of the priest (the minister of this sacrament), has caused the bread and wine to actually become the Body and Blood of Christ. Whether the recipient knows it or not, the reality (Christ) is there.
But in Matrimony, the bride and the bridegroom are the ministers of the sacrament. Are they not? Without their true consent, Matrimony doesn't "happen." To create an exaggerated example, you can't slip a girl a GHB, walk her through an Orthodox wedding ceremony, and then claim that she is actually married merely because the ceremony was technically complete.
Both the bridegroom and the bride have to intend what the Church intends.
Thus, similarly, in the examples I gave before, one party is not intending to marry (as the Church understands marriage) because he or she is practicing fraud or deception and is actually unwilling to enter into a lifelong, exclusive union. Thus there was a lack of consent; and consent is essential to a sacramental marriage, isn't it?
Understand, please, that I am not arguing with you here. I just want to learn how the Orthodox Church sees these things. If I seem a little slow, I am not being obstinate --- I'm just being slow!
"Consent" may be one of those Roman legal terms that Easterners are uncomfortable with ;-)
Wow, I never heard that. Can you post a link or let me know where you learned this?
Thanks, this gives me something to think about.
Question: can there be marriage in the Orthodox Church without consent?
False. Luther left the church because he was excommunicated. He never wanted to leave the church, but to reform it from within. He was kicked out, he never willingly left.
"Question: can there be marriage in the Orthodox Church without consent?"
In all honesty I don't think that's an issue, though one has to wonder what would happen in some instance of gross coercion, as Agrarian proposed. As we have said, there are no vows in the sacrament; in fact the bride and groom say nothing.
Hmm. Here's another: Is adultery the only grounds for divorce in the Orthodox Church?
"Here's another: Is adultery the only grounds for divorce in the Orthodox Church?"
So far as I can see, the grounds are similar to those in civil courts and not limited to adultery, though I think fault does matter.
He never really tried to Get"back in." IAC, Excommunication does not mean that one is kicked out of the church, only that one is under sanction. Usually that can be lifted by the accused tries. But he refused to recant.
Wow, I never heard that. Can you post a link or let me know where you learned this?
Just add up the numbers in any religious census of the US (i.e., look in the World Almanac or the Statistical Abstract published the by the Census, or google "American Religious affiliation" or similar). There are about 68 million Catholics, and about 70 million affiliated Protestants and others of all stripes. The number of Catholics does not include at least 10-20 million more Catholics who have left off the normal practice of the faith and affiliation with a parish, but not taken up another formal affiliation.
Roughly: 8 million Lutherans, 2 million Episcopalians, 12 million Methodists, 35 million Baptists, 1 million Adventists, 4 million Presbyterians, 10 million Pentecostals, a few million assorted others.
I still think it was just an excuse. No doubt Dreher did become too emotionally involved in the sex abuse scandal and if he was talking only to the alleged victims, he would end up getting a very one-sided picture of this. Some of the allegations of clerical sex abuse are false. Moreover, only a small percentage of priests have been accused of abuse. The rest of them faithfully carry out their ministry. To be so scandalized by the actions of a small number of priests while ignoring the good done by the rest of the clergy is wrong. It's an over-reaction born of self-righeousness. In other words, Dreher is blaming the whole Church for the actions of a small number of men. The Church is no longer "pure" enough for him and so he left. I can't condone his decision.
There is a ROCOR Church in Dallas......
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