The first part of this series can be found here.
A year or so after reading The Screwtape Letters, I began dating the gal who later would become my wife, Rachel. As I mentioned in my first post, I met Rachel in Kindergarten and we went to school together through college. We didn’t start dating until junior year of college and we were married shortly after we graduated.
Due to her devout Catholic background and some unfortunate experiences with a previous boyfriend (who happened to be one of my best friends) Rachel developed some prerequisites for dating. They were as follows:
Go to Mass with her on Sundays (and Holy Days)
Pray every day
Dating is for discernment for marriage
I readily agreed. I was just happy she actually wanted to date me!
However, like a good, modern man, Point 3 made me anxious, but I got over it eventually.
After college, I started attending my mother-in-law’s catechism class and I returned to my elementary school parish. I began to relearn/unlearn the basic information I should have been taught at my Catholic school. Maybe I did learn those things, but I probably wasn't paying attention.
The music was still bad, although “Walking by Faith” was gone. The cavernous, sepia-toned church building was still the same. They added a gigantic crucifix suspended over the tabernacle, which was a vast improvement over the tiny one that had been there before.
Apparently, the current priest is thinking about making major renovations to the interior of the church building, which look very promising.
Currently, all the pews face the center of the church, flying saucer-style, which is where the block stone altar sits. These proposed changes are very much welcome.
We had been attending Mass at this church for a month or two when my mother-in-law discovered the Extraordinary Form or the Latin Mass. She began attending regularly on her own and then she brought all of us to that Mass instead of our normal, Ordinary Form English Mass. My first experience of the Latin Mass was a Mass composed by Antonin Dvorak and the entire liturgy was over three hours long. The Kyrie alone lasted for 15 minutes (or so my memory says).
The Mass was beautiful, but I was not equipped to handle it. It was too alien, too different from what I was used to. Just as I was reacquainting myself with the Mass from my childhood, I was now was expected to attend three hour long Masses in a language I didn’t understand!
*Recently, and to my great shame, I found out that two and a half to three hour long Masses are the norm in Eastern Catholic and Orthodox parishes. I really am a baby.
I know a lot of Catholics who attend the Latin Mass that believe if we just expose more people to it, it would be more popular. I’m afraid the reality is more complicated than that. Yes, some people fall in love immediately, but I think many people are like me and need some help understanding the symbols and why things seem so unnecessarily complicated. 1) Why Latin? 2) Why are most of the prayers so quiet? 3) Why is the priest facing away from us? 4) Is he a jerk? 5) Is the pre-Vatican II era of the Church just full of jerks? 6) Am I, now, a jerk?
Certain liberal Catholics, and some well-intentioned conservative Catholics, have ready-made answers to these questions: 1) Old fashioned, 2) clericalism, 3) clericalism, 4) yes, 5) yes, 6) yes. Obviously, these answers left me a bit cold.
It can be similar with book recommendations. A book which might be considered a masterpiece of fiction, is completely impenetrable to someone who isn’t used to deciphering the symbols, allusions, and metaphors. The unprepared reader will miss references to myth, poetry, and Scripture and be left feeling confused and frustrated. The frustration can be so irritating that the reader might not want to attempt the book again, even though the author may be a genius.
That being said, I think the only solution to understanding something beautiful and complicated is frequent exposure to it. Having a friend who loves the older liturgy can help pass that love on as well. It’s worth the initial confusion because the thing itself is wonderful.
After 6 months or so, I was a committed Traditional Catholic with many strong opinions.
Eventually, problems arose, though I did not necessarily recognize them as problems right away. I almost hesitate to write any criticisms because many people have different experiences with traditional Catholic parishes. I am very grateful for my priests because they kept the Sacraments going during COVID while simultaneously following the directives of our Bishop. It was not an easy task, but they succeeded and our parish has grown like crazy since then.
Remember, these are just my own personal experiences and may not reflect any other parish or group of traditionalists.
The first problem to manifest in me was anger. Now, don’t misunderstand me, anger can be appropriate when managed in short bursts for good reasons. I think it is a reasonable response to get angry that the older version of the Roman rite was replaced by something, let’s say, underwhelming. It is normal to ask why and how this happened. Why does it seem as though the members of the hierarchy are embarrassed by or even despise the older liturgy?
However, anger turned into my default setting and led to me looking down on other Catholics who attended the newer Mass even if they were perfectly orthodox. After a while, I realized that I could not keep this going forever, so I had to be okay with most other Catholics not attending the Latin Mass. If the topic came up organically in conversation, then I would discuss it with friends. Before that, I would want to talk about it every chance I got.
The second problem manifested in me as a form of rigorism. I don’t mean traditional Catholic teaching on sexual issues or other things. I don’t even mean dress codes or proper conduct during Mass. I mean degrading otherwise harmless entertainments as intrinsically evil.
For example:
Trick or treating is occultism
Dungeons and dragons is occultism
Harry Potter is occultism
Bob Dylan is a satanist (what)
These examples might seem small, and in the wrong hands, could lead people astray. Describing them as intrinsically dangerous can actually undercut someone’s otherwise healthy ability to discern what is really occultism. It trains the mind to be paranoid and, I speak from personal experience, it is a very difficult habit to break.
This tendency emerged in Christian communities due to The Satanic Panic in the 1980’s, which shouldn’t necessarily be dismissed out of hand. However, I realized that each of these activities are pretty harmless and can even be fun. I have done all of them and I have even listened to Bob Dylan, though I do not enjoy him.
However, the main problem I have seen in person and online, in my experience, is the replacement of theological discussions with the political. I am guilty of this as well. At this point, a main segment of our shared culture as Catholics is not the liturgy, Sacraments, theology or even pop culture; it’s scandal, Church politics, and palace intrigue.
“Have you heard what happened to X?” or “Did you see what X commentator said about X at the Vatican?”
On the other hand, poet and scholar James Matthew Wilson made an interesting observation on Thomas Mirus’ show, The Catholic Culture podcast:
Basically, the discussion of politics has replaced the discussion of theology and most people unknowingly treat them as interchangeable. I would extend that to say that politics has overwhelmed every other subject and has become the shared culture, not just among Catholics, but among Americans generally.
A large swathe of Catholic content is either political or apologetic in scope. Neither of these things are bad in themselves, and they are often necessary. However, they are decidedly not the basis of culture. They certainly influence culture, but they are not the core.
The same goes for traditionalist Catholic content; it is mostly politics and current events. For example, the recent Catholic Identity Conference out in Philadelphia featured many of the leading thought leaders of the movement as speakers. More than half of the presentations had to do directly with politics or current hot button issues in the Vatican or the larger secular world.
I am not saying anything about the character of the attendees or speakers; I know many of them and they are good people. I did not attend and so did not listen to the presentations. The information may be largely accurate for all I know. That’s not really the point. I just don’t see how a we can hold a stable identity when we are so heavily influence by, and reacting to, crises at the Vatican. That inevitably makes our identity fragile because we are ironically reliant on the Vatican to give us something to react against. That is not a good place to be.
At one point, my limit for constant political discussions, whether among friends and family, parish gatherings, or from the pulpit, reached a point where it became nails on a chalkboard. If our priest was giving a talk about the current Vatican hi-jinks at donuts and coffee hour after Sunday Mass, then I would retreat to the kid’s play room to go talk to another dad to discuss pretty much anything else. Again, I respect and appreciate the priests at our parish and I am not trying to put them down.
I think part of the reason for this tendency to replace substantive conversation with politics is because talking politics is easy, especially if everyone in the group already agrees on broad strokes. There is little risk to talking about politics in like minded groups with no vulnerability required.
Thankfully, I am seeing this change with many book clubs being started that are including works like Dracula and Death Comes for the Archbishop. That is a great start and we need more shared loves to unite us.
I realized that to be constantly focused on Church politics is not a sound long term plan for either the individual or the parish. We need to be aware of what the Vatican is doing if only to duck so as not to be knocked over.
While I still consider myself more traditional in terms of Catholic practice, I have been noticing a distance between myself and the ecosystem that is traditional Catholic world. I no longer completely agree with some of the arguments made by prominent traditionalists and, due to an increase in polarization that can be seen across America, it has become more difficult to voice nuanced opinions.
What is the solution here? The simple yet most difficult answer is to be a Saint. Get involved in parish life. Read fiction and poetry with good friends and good beer.
Finally, I would not dare to offer a silver bullet solution to any of this mess but I think the answer might involve fairies and other strange things.
In other words, we need to get Weird.
To be continued and concluded in Part 3.
My background is very different, but my experience mirrors the latter part of your post
If the solution is to get weird, then I'm in. It means I get to be myself!