Posted on 04/12/2008 8:27:07 PM PDT by markomalley
During an era when two-thirds of young Catholics say they can be good Catholics without going to mass and many believe in a woman's right to choose abortion and view premarital sex as morally acceptable, Karen and David Hickey might be considered renegades - because they are so devout.
The lives of the suburban couple and their five young children revolve around the Catholic Church, and they stand out as devoted because so many others do not follow the teachings of their church to the letter.
For the Hickeys and a community of young, conservative Catholics who piously follow the teachings of the church, Pope Benedict XVI's visit to Washington next week carries a special meaning.
They appreciate Benedict for his unwavering advocacy of what they hold to be "Catholic": ancient liturgical practices such as the traditional Latin mass, the supremacy of the Catholic Church, Gregorian chants in worship and theologians who concur with the Pope's teachings. As the Vatican's orthodoxy watchdog for 24 years before becoming pope, Benedict has earned this group's devotion.
"I love Pope Benedict," said Karen Hickey, 35. The former Senate press secretary, who grew up Jewish, keeps a bust of Benedict on her piano. "He's done so much good in the little time that he's been there."
Young, orthodox Catholics are more enthusiastic about the Pope than are many in the older generation, said Colleen Carroll Campbell, author of The New Faithful, a book about the youthful set.
"They like his countercultural stance on a lot of things ... They also like his emphasis on Catholic identity and fidelity to Catholic doctrine."
Such young Catholics' strict obedience to the tenets of their faith makes them an anomaly in their generation. Only 14 per cent of Catholics ages 20 to 40 attend mass at least weekly, according to research by the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate at Georgetown University, and just one in five goes to confession once a year or more.
For conservative Catholics, that's unthinkable.
"You have to live your faith and practise, not just learn the doctrine," said Anne Francoise Guelcher, 40, the mother of six children - ages 15 months to 14 years - who lives with husband James in Montclair, Va.
Guelcher home-schools her children. "That way, I can really teach them about the faith," she says.
The family goes to mass every Sunday and on Holy Days and celebrates the myriad Catholic feast days. They say the rosary and pray to the saints daily. Like other devout Catholics, they keep holy water, which has been blessed by a priest, in a small font by their front door.
"We live it every day," Guelcher said.
Like Catholics of their generation, young conservatives grew up under the liberalizing changes to the church brought on by the Vatican II Council in the 1960s, but some have rejected those reforms as they reached adulthood.
Chris Paulitz, 32, a Senate aide, remembers "lots of guitars and banjos" at church services and priests who had fallen away from practising church doctrine.
"I felt uncomfortable about it constantly," he said.
Like the Hickeys and the Guelchers, Paulitz and his wife, Diane, attend St. Mary Mother of God, a 163-year-old parish that is one of the few in the area that offers the traditional Latin Mass every Sunday.
To traditional Catholics, the old Latin mass - a formal rite entirely in Latin - stands in marked contrast to the more informal modern mass ushered in by the Second Vatican Council. Benedict last year loosened restrictions on the traditional Latin mass, also called the Tridentine mass, cheering conservative Catholics everywhere.
Capitol Hill aide Paul-Martin Foss, 26, says he feels comfortable at St. Mary's, where worshippers don't question church canon.
"On the major doctrinal issues, it's pretty much settled," he said. "They are all pro-life and faithful on all the church's moral teachings and dogma."
It is not an easy existence. Conservative Catholics, compared to "cafeteria Catholics" - the term for Catholics who pick and choose which doctrines to follow - say they can feel off the beaten path culturally.
Daniel Heenan, 25, a suburban Catholic schoolteacher who plans to enter the seminary, faces the amused scrutiny of his peers for his devout life.
"A lot of them think I'm a lunatic," Heenan said. Friends will say, "You're 25; you should be out getting drunk and having a good time, not going to church."
Those who eschew artificial birth control and have large families say they hear comments and rude remarks when they venture out with their children: "Don't you have enough?" and "Aren't you done yet?" Sam Fatzinger, a suburban mother of 11, has learned to respond with a tart, "No, I'm just getting warmed up."
"So many people think that with large families you're weird or crazy," said Nicole Santschi, 41, of Manassas, Va., who is expecting her eight child. "But we're normal, down-to-earth. But our goal is to get our kids into heaven and doing what God wants us to do. It's hard, but He gives us the grace to do it."
They're right, because if you're not miserable and buried in child support payments when you're 35 then you won't have any friends to complain to.
I have a great fondness for Gregorian chants. Relaxing and inspirational music.
the supremacy of the Catholic Church?
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