Posted on 09/18/2010 8:26:32 PM PDT by markomalley
One of the key myths of the American Catholic imagination is this: After 200 years of fighting against public prejudice, Catholics finally broke through into America’s mainstream with the 1960 election of John F. Kennedy as president. It’s a happy thought, and not without grounding. Next to America’s broad collection of evangelical churches, baptized Catholics now make up the biggest religious community in the United States. They serve in large numbers in Congress. They have a majority on the Supreme Court. They play commanding roles in the professions and in business leadership. They’ve climbed, at long last, the Mt. Zion of social acceptance.
So goes the tale. What this has actually meant for the direction of American life, however, is another matter. Catholic statistics once seemed impressive. They filled many of us with tribal pride. But they didn’t stop a new and quite alien national landscape, a “next America,” from emerging right under our noses.
While both Barna Group and Pew Research Center data show that Americans remain a broadly Christian people, old religious loyalties are steadily softening. Overall, the number of Americans claiming no religious affiliation, about 16 percent, has doubled since 1990. One quarter of Americans aged 18-29 have no affiliation with any particular religion, and as the Barna Group noted in 2007, they “exhibit a greater degree of criticism toward Christianity than did previous generations when they were at the same stage of life. In fact, in just a decade . . . the Christian image [has] shifted substantially downward, fueled in part by a growing sense of disengagement and disillusionment among young people.”
Catholic losses have been masked by Latino immigration. But while 31 percent of Americans say they were raised in the Catholic faith, fewer than 24 percent of Americans now describe themselves as Catholic.
These facts have weight because, traditionally, religious faith has provided the basis for Americans’ moral consensus. And that moral consensus has informed American social policy and law. What people believe—or don’t believe—about God, helps to shape what they believe about men and women. And what they believe about men and women creates the framework for a nation’s public life.
Or to put it more plainly: In the coming decades Catholics will likely find it harder, not easier, to influence the course of American culture, or even to live their faith authentically. And the big difference between the “next America” and the old one will be that plenty of other committed religious believers may find themselves in the same unpleasant jam as their Catholic cousins.
At first hearing, this scenario might sound implausible; and for good reason. The roots of the American experience are deeply Protestant. They go back a very long way, to well before the nation’s founding. Whatever one thinks of the early Puritan colonists—and Catholics have few reasons to remember them fondly—no reader can study Gov. John Winthrop’s great 1630 homily before embarking for New England without being moved by the zeal and candor of the faith that produced it. In “A model of Christian charity,” he told his fellow colonists:
We are a company professing ourselves fellow members of Christ . . . That which the most in their churches maintain as truth in profession only, we must bring into familiar and constant practice; as in this duty of love, we must love brotherly without dissimulation, we must love one another with pure heart fervently. We must bear one another’s burdens. We must look not only on our own things, but also on the things of our brethren . . . We must be willing to abridge ourselves of our superfluities, for the supply of others’ necessities. We must uphold a familiar commerce together in all meekness, gentleness, patience and liberality. We must delight in each; make others’ conditions our own; rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together, always having before our eyes our commission and community in the work, as members of the same body. So we will keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.
Not a bad summary of Christian discipleship, made urgent for Winthrop by the prospect of leading 700 souls on a hard, two-month voyage across the North Atlantic to an equally hard New World. What happened when they got there is a matter of historical record. And different agendas interpret the record differently.
The Puritan habits of hard work, industry and faith branded themselves on the American personality. While Puritan influence later diluted in waves of immigrants from other Protestant traditions, it clearly helped shape the political beliefs of John Adams and many of the other American Founders. Adams and his colleagues were men who, as Daniel Boorstin once suggested, had minds that were a “miscellany and a museum;” men who could blend the old and the new, an earnest Christian faith and Enlightenment ideas, without destroying either.
But beginning in the nineteenth century, riding a crest of scientific and industrial change, a different view of the Puritans began to emerge. In the language of their critics, the Puritans were seen as intolerant, sexually repressed, narrow-minded witch-hunters who masked material greed with a veneer of Calvinist virtue. Cast as religious fanatics, the Puritans stood accused of planting the seed of nationalist messianism by portraying America as a New Jerusalem, a “city upon a hill” (from Winthrop’s homily), with a globally redemptive mission. H.L. Mencken—equally skilled as a writer, humorist and anti-religious bigot—famously described the Puritan as a man “with the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.”
In recent years, scholars like Christian Smith have shown how the intellectual weakness and fierce internal divisions of America’s Protestant establishment allowed “the secularization of modern public life as a kind of political revolution.” Carried out mainly between 1870 and 1930, this “rebel insurgency consisted of waves of networks of activists who were largely skeptical, freethinking, agnostic, atheist or theologically liberal; who were well educated and socially located mainly in the knowledge-production occupations, and who generally espoused materialism, naturalism, positivism and the privatization or extinction of religion.”
This insurgency could be ignored, or at least contained, for a long time. Why? Because America’s social consensus supported the country’s unofficial Christian assumptions, traditions and religion-friendly habits of thought and behavior. But law—even a constitutional guarantee—is only as strong as the popular belief that sustains it. That traditional consensus is now much weakened. Seventy years of soft atheism trickling down in a steady catechesis from our universities, social-science “helping professions,” and entertainment and news media, have eroded it.
Obviously many faith-friendly exceptions exist in each of these professional fields. And other culprits, not listed above, may also be responsible for our predicament. The late Christopher Lasch argued that modern consumer capitalism breeds and needs a “culture of narcissism”—i.e., a citizenry of weak, self-absorbed, needy personalities—in order to sustain itself. Christian Smith put it somewhat differently when he wrote that, in modern capitalism, labor “is mobile as needed, consumers purchase what is promoted, workers perform as demanded, managers execute as expected—and profits flow. And what the Torah, or the Pope, or Jesus may say in opposition is not relevant, because those are private matters” [emphasis in original].
My point here is neither to defend nor criticize our economic system. Others are much better equipped to do that than I am. My point is that “I shop, therefore I am” is not a good premise for life in a democratic society like the United States. Our country depends for its survival on an engaged, literate electorate gathered around commonly held ideals. But the practical, pastoral reality facing the Gospel in America today is a human landscape shaped by advertising, an industry Pascal Bruckner described so well as a “smiling form of sorcery”:
The buyer’s fantastic freedom of choice supposedly encourages each of us to take ourselves in hand, to be responsible, to diversify our conduct and our tastes; and most important, supposedly protects us forever from fanaticism and from being taken in. In other words, four centuries of emancipation from dogmas, gods and tyrants has led to nothing more nor less than to the marvelous possibility of choosing between several brands of dish detergent, TV channels or styles of jeans. Pushing our cart down the aisle in a supermarket or frantically wielding our remote control, these are supposed to be ways of consciously working for harmony and democracy. One could hardly come up with a more masterful misinterpretation: for we consume in order to stop being individuals and citizens; rather, to escape for a moment from the heavy burden of having to make fundamental choices.
Now, where do Catholics fit into this story?
The same Puritan worldview that informed John Winthrop’s homily so movingly, also reviled “Popery,” Catholic ritual and lingering “Romish” influences in England’s established Anglican Church. The Catholic Church was widely seen as Revelation’s Whore of Babylon. Time passed, and the American religious landscape became more diverse. But the nation’s many different Protestant sects shared a common, foreign ogre in their perceptions of the Holy See—perceptions made worse by Rome’s distrust of democracy and religious liberty. As a result, Catholics in America faced harsh Protestant discrimination throughout the 18th and 19th centuries. This included occasional riots and even physical attacks on convents, churches and seminaries. Such is the history that made John F. Kennedy’s success seem so liberating.
The irony is that mainline American Protestantism had used up much of its moral and intellectual power by 1960. Secularizers had already crushed it in the war for the cultural high ground. In effect, after so many decades of struggle, Catholics arrived on America’s center stage just as management of the theater had changed hands -- with the new owners even less friendly, but far shrewder and much more ambitious in their social and political goals, than the old ones. Protestants, Catholics and Orthodox, despite their many differences, share far more than divides them, beginning with Jesus Christ himself. They also share with Jews a belief in the God of Israel and a reverence for God’s Word in the Old Testament. But the gulf between belief and unbelief, or belief and disinterest, is vastly wider.
In the years since Kennedy’s election, Vatican II and the cultural upheavals of the 1960s, two generations of citizens have grown to maturity. The world is a different place. America is a different place—and in some ways, a far more troubling one. We can’t change history, though we need to remember and understand it. But we can only blame outside factors for our present realities up to a point. As Catholics, like so many other American Christians, we have too often made our country what it is through our appetite for success, our self-delusion, our eagerness to fit in, our vanity, our compromises, our self-absorption and our tepid faith.
If government now pressures religious entities out of the public square, or promotes same-sex “marriage,” or acts in ways that undermine the integrity of the family, or compromises the sanctity of human life, or overrides the will of voters, or discourages certain forms of religious teaching as “hate speech,” or interferes with individual and communal rights of conscience—well, why not? In the name of tolerance and pluralism, we have forgotten why and how we began as nation; and we have undermined our ability to ground our arguments in anything higher than our own sectarian opinions.
The “next America” has been in its chrysalis a long time. Whether people will be happy when it fully emerges remains to be seen. But the future is not predestined. We create it with our choices. And the most important choice we can make is both terribly simple and terribly hard: to actually live what the Church teaches, to win the hearts of others by our witness, and to renew the soul of our country with the courage of our own Christian faith and integrity. There is no more revolutionary act.
Charles J. Chaput is the archbishop of Denver.
Crucifying Christ afresh is subjecting him to public disgrace.
The Catholic church just doesn't get *once for all*, does it?
I wonder what about that is too hard for them to understand.
Nowhere does Augustine say the bread and wine change materialistically. They remain bread and wine, symbolically representing the sacrifice of Christ which we are to remember and thank God for every time we partake of His table.
And constant!
We need no present day Pharisee to conjur up our Savior in a biscuit.
We don’t dilute our Savior with prayers to deceased humans.
AMEN! "And constant."
"Once, for all" Thank God, He "remembers our sins no more."
Thankfully, too, men come to realize the lie of transubstantiation when they realize that the very reason for Rome declaring its priests to be "another Christ" is because magic requires a magician.
They believe in alchemy, not in Scriptural teaching; not in the things of God, spiritually discerned.
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“Mystery, Babylon!
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You wrote:
“What error? Paul didn’t say Christ offered his sacrifice once in heaven? Jesus didn’t say, ‘Do this in remembrance’?”
The sacrifice is always offered in heaven. This is symbolized here on earth by the fact that there were altar railings to show what happened on the altar was happening in heaven. It is a timeless, once-for-all sacrifice that is re-presented.
“Where do I find this “re-presenting” in Scripture?”
Everywhere you find the breaking of bread after the Last Supper.
“And just how do you define this “re-presenting” if that is what is being done?”
I don’t define it. The Church does.
You wrote:
“As usual, we read the same words and come to different conclusions.”
I come to the correct conclusions. You come to the Protestant ones.
“Nowhere does Augustine say the bread and wine change materialistically.”
He said it became Christ’s body and blood. How is that not different from bread and wine?
“They remain bread and wine, symbolically representing the sacrifice of Christ which we are to remember and thank God for every time we partake of His table.”
And now we see your earlier error more clearly. Lutherans believe in the Real Presence. They believe it’s Christ’s body. You don’t. You only believe in a spiritual presence. You Protestants can’t agree. You all “read the same words and come to different conclusions.” Imagine that.
Catholics read the Lord’s words in John 6, and then reject them, since they have not the Holy Spirit, they must reject the idea that his ‘presence’ is spiritual as he stated.
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One gets the impression that non-Catholics think "spiritual" means "not-real". Because if one says "spiritually you are a penguin" then what is being said is REALLY, fundamentally, in truth "you ARE a penguin". It's not that you look like a penguin, or smell like a penguin, or taste like a penguin, all those things are accidental to penguiness, but at the root of everything, in your essence you're a penguin.
So maybe when non-Catholics say "spiritually" they mean "in theory", or "metaphorically"... or "not really"?
“The sacrifice is always offered in heaven. This is symbolized here on earth by the fact that there were altar railings to show what happened on the altar was happening in heaven. It is a timeless, once-for-all sacrifice that is re-presented.”
Then what is taking place is a symbol, a representation of what is taking place in heaven?
If then the sacrifice is offered once and only once in heaven it cannot
then be offered at the same time on earth and as Paul said,
Christ didn't offer himself year after year.
The idea that the taking of the bread and wine is a sacrifice each time it takes place is contrary to Scripture and self contradictory as your words show.
You wrote:
“Catholics read the Lord’s words in John 6, and then reject them, since they have not the Holy Spirit, they must reject the idea that his ‘presence’ is spiritual as he stated.”
Nowhere in John 6 does Jesus claim His presence is merely spiritual nor do we deny that He has a spiritual presence. What we deny is the idea that Christ lied when He said it was His flesh and blood. We believe His words. We also deny heretical Protestant teachings that empty Christ’s words of meaning and slip in a false meaning instead to make themselves more comfortable.
All Protestants do not see a spiritual presence in their mock re-enactments of the Lord’s Supper. I have had them tell me so. I have no reason to believe they are lying on that score.
I never said ALL prots believe it. Some Prots, believe either in a spiritual presence or a memorial/commemoration or a combination.
You wrote:
“The source you referenced called each Mass performed a sacrifice and you yourself called the Mass a sacrifice.”
Of course it is a sacrifice. It just isn’t a NEW sacrifice.
“Then what is taking place is a symbol, a representation of what is taking place in heaven?”
Yes, and it is real as well. And imperfect analogy could be: The American flag is a symbol. It is also made out of cloth. You can touch it. It is not just an image, but has a material existence.
“If then the sacrifice is offered once and only once in heaven it cannot
then be offered at the same time on earth and as Paul said,
Christ didn’t offer himself year after year.”
The same sacrifice can be re-presented again and again. This was not only prophesied in Malachi 1:11.
“The idea that the taking of the bread and wine is a sacrifice each time it takes place is contrary to Scripture and self contradictory as your words show.”
Nope. Nothing I said was contradictory. The taking of bread and wine is not a sacrifice - nor did I ever say it was. I don’t know who believes it is. That is not what we believe. The offering of Christ’s BODY AND BLOOD is a sacrifice. No matter who does or does not take it it is still a sacrifice. It is fascinating to see how you get things wrong. Rather than correctly state what I posted you actually - apparently - look at things from exactly the wrong end. You apparently believe the sacrificial quality of something is dependent upon the person passively receiving the sacrifice rather than the Person making the sacrifice and the actual offering of the sacrifice. How telling. If that doesn’t show that Protestants twist everything to subjectivism and fellings, I don’t know what does.
The Greek “estin” of Luke 22:19, “This is (estin) the body of me” may properly be translated “means” so in line with the rest of the Scriptures Jesus words would be,
“This means my body”.
“I wonder what about that is too hard for them to understand.”
It's the impossibility of fitting much of Catholic doctrine into the confines of Biblical teachings.
Someone posted an excellent commentary about how Jesus was just telling the disciples what the elements, which were part of the Passover Supper, really represented.
Here they had been eating the bread and drinking the cup for centuries not knowing what the bread and cup really represented.
Jesus was simply saying that the bread and cup were pictures of Himself, the bread representing how His body was broken, and the cup representing His shed blood.
The ironic thing is, Catholics keep insisting that the bread and wine turn into the literal,actual body and blood of Christ, except that they don’t look like it.
Sure......
It either is or isn’t.
All the *real presence* nonsense is just an explanation to excuse away why it doesn’t, which in reality just means that the bread and cup are symbols of what they claim is *really* happening.
Merely spiritual? - To one that has not the spirit perhaps it is "merely" spirit, but to the body of Christ, Spirit is everything here on Earth.
John 6:What we call life here on Earth is not life in the kingdom of God; it is corruption.
63] It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life.
Since you lack the spirit, you lack understanding of things spiritual.
You wrote:
“Merely spiritual? - To one that has not the spirit perhaps it is “merely” spirit, but to the body of Christ, Spirit is everything here on Earth.”
I never said “merely spirit”. I said merely spiritual - as in “merely a spiritual presence” as opposed to Real Presence.
“Since you lack the spirit, you lack understanding of things spiritual.”
No, actually I apparently understand them better than you do. I also did not twist your words. I do not engage in such dishonest tactics. I suggest you do the same so you don’t look so much like a hypocrite.
> “I never said “merely spirit”. I said merely spiritual”
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What might the difference be?
A spiritual presence is the real presence in this age. He said that he would send the spirit, not a package from the celestial butcher shop!
You sound just like the nutty unbelievers that try to ‘debate’ Bob Dutco on his radio program!
Ahhh...well now that clears things up.
“Yes, and it is real as well. And imperfect analogy could be: The American flag is a symbol. It is also made out of cloth. You can touch it. It is not just an image, but has a material existence.”
The flag is a symbol of the country, not the country its self. That's what symbols are. Just as the bread and wine were symbols of Christ's flesh and blood not the actual flesh and blood.
“The same sacrifice can be re-presented again and again. This was not only prophesied in Malachi 1:11.”
Mal. 1:11 says,
“For from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same my name [shall be] great among the Gentiles; and in every place incense [shall be] offered unto my name, and a pure offering: for my name [shall be] great among the heathen, saith the LORD of hosts.”
How you connect Mal 1:11 with the last supper is unclear.
Offering OR taking of the bread and wine is not the sacrifice. That was done once and therefore as Paul said at Hebrews 10:18,
“Now where remission of these (sins and inequities) is, there is no more offering for sin.”
No “re-presentation” needed, no more offering, the sacrifice has been made once and need not be reoffered. That's what the Scriptures make clear.
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From the Catholic Catechism:
1367 The sacrifice of Christ and the sacrifice of the Eucharist are one single sacrifice: “The victim is one and the same: the same now offers through the ministry of priests, who then offered himself on the cross; only the manner of offering is different.” “And since in this divine sacrifice which is celebrated in the Mass, the same Christ who offered himself once in a bloody manner on the altar of the cross is contained and is offered in an unbloody manner. . . this sacrifice is truly propitiatory.”190
No blood at the Mass?
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