Smoke Signals
March 13, 2013The drama of the selection of the new pope has captivated the world, and why wouldn’t it? They’ve just selected the first non-European pope in 1300 years. There is the question of how the new pope will deal with the sexual molestation scandals that have rocked the Church. There is, of course, the reality that the new pope will have the ability to shape doctrine for millions of people around the world. But I have to confess that what has captivated my attention is the smoke.
Smoke signals. The conclave of cardinals uses smoke signals to update the world on how the whole voting thing is going. Now, I get why sending up columns of black or white smoke was a sensible form of communication 1000 years ago, but really? Smoke signals? This is 2013. You couldn’t use Twitter? (#stillnopope, #gotone) When is an embrace of the ancient and arcane a lovely part of the grand pageantry and a way to honor a rich history, and when is it just silly?
Of course, churches with a considerably smaller store of history and tradition run up against the same problem of whether and how to allow the modern world into church life. Do we stick with the old, beloved hymns, or do we introduce more contemporary music? Do we need to pay to send the newsletter out on paper, or can we just email it to everyone? Will putting in a screen for multi-media presentations destroy the look of the sanctuary? Do we offer online small groups in place of gatherings in the church basement?
It’s hard to let go of the way things have always been done. And change is not always for the best. Churches have an important role as conservators of language and ritual that have served the human soul across the centuries. There is a depth to the Lord’s Prayer, the words of Jesus repeated across the world and across 2000 years, that is just not likely to be present in the words that your minister pulled out of thin air (aka The Holy Spirit) on Sunday morning. To paraphrase 19th century Unitarian Theodore Parker, some pieces of tradition are transient, while others are permanent.
Of course, in some instances it doesn’t much matter. The Vatican can keep sending up smoke signals for another 1000 years, by which time humans will no doubt have developed instantaneous transmission of information directly into the chip implanted in your brain, and no one will be the worse for it. But what about adherence to the policy of an all-male, celibate priesthood? In the immortal words of Dr. Phil, “How’s that workin’ for ya?” What about clinging to a prejudice against homosexuality, based on the assumptions of a bygone era? Sometimes the failure to recognize what is a transient holdover from an long-ago society carries a devastating cost, both to the institution and to individuals.
In the days to come, we’ll find out what Pope Francis I thinks is permanent and what is transient within the Roman Catholic Church. But all of us will still have to go on deciding for ourselves what in our own lives is precious and must be preserved, and what we must let go of in order to make room for new growth.
Holding to the Wrong Anchor
July 26, 2012Yesterday I was listening to a radio interview with the Catholic bishop who had been charged with responding to the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. Basically, his stance was that the group, which represents 80% of Catholic nuns, was just flat-out wrong when they suggested that the Catholic Church needs to re-examine its stance on birth control, homosexuality and ordaining women. He said that their vow of obedience was not to their conscience and what they felt to be the call of God, but to the hierarchy of the church. He said that he welcomed dialogue with the women religious, but that “dialogue” meant their coming to understand and accept that the traditional stand of the church and its hierarchy was correct. He pointed out that Catholicism is a revealed religion, and not subject to change based on a changing society.
And all I could think as I listened to him was: “Man, you are so screwed.” They have painted themselves in a corner. When you categorically refuse to adapt to the world you live in, you have doomed yourself to extinction. Maybe not soon, but eventually.
Now, there are plenty of people who would say that if we don’t hold to any absolute standards then we are simply awash in a shifting sea of cultural expectations. We have no compass, no guidance through the tempests and changing tides. This claim is not with out merit—after all, the fact that Kim Kardashian or Snookie thinks something is a good idea hardly means that we should all follow suit.
But here’s the thing. The Catholic Church has staked its life on holding fast to things that are failing to stand the test of time. The position of women in society has undergone a shift across the centuries from an assumption that women are property to an assumption (at least by many) that women are fully the equal of men, and deserve the same rights and responsibilities. The Church has created an absolute out of something that turns out to be quite relative. Even the notion of a strict hierarchy—Pope above bishops above priests above laity, men above women, angels above people above animals—all that Great Chain of Being vision of how the universe is arranged is severely retro. In the modern world it has largely been supplanted by an ecological model in which beings live in a complex net of interrelation, with each part inextricably bound to the whole.
I can’t fault the bishop for his statements. He is, after all, only doing the job he was assigned to do by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. And sadly, I suppose the job he was doing was a job that many of us assign to ourselves on a daily basis—holding fast to things that “have” to be true, regardless of the evidence, for fear that our worlds will fall apart if we open ourselves to the possibility that the world does not match our assumptions. It’s the commonest thing in the world. But as a foundation on which to build a church—or a life—well, it makes me sad.
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Quest for Meaning is a program of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF).
As a Unitarian Universalist congregation with no geographical boundary, the CLF creates global spiritual community, rooted in profound love, which cultivates wonder, imagination, and the courage to act.