The joys of a fearsome reputation!

A couple of days back, I was wondering how best to describe this blog to the flood of new readers. That was sort of useful, but this is even better:

I AM NEW TO THIS COMMENTING THING, BUT I TRIED TO POST EARLIER THIS WEEK AND I DON'T SEE MY COMMENT. ARE YOU CENSURING YOUR COMMENTS. I WAS ONLY KIDDING ABOUT TALKING TO THE ENQUIRER. LOVE MOM

Yes, folks--this is the kind of place where my own Mother fears being deleted!

Bwa-hahahahaha!

[Seriously--that is my Mom's comment--I called her to confirm it.]

LOOK UPON MY BLOG, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR...

Oh--before I forget:

Hi, Mom!

"Don't let the door hit your a** on the way out" vs. "All are welcome/all are welcome/all are welcome/in this place."

Apologies for the Haugen reference. In the memorable phrasing of Aristotle Esguerra, I know I've just inflicted a "liturgical earwig" on you, but it fits the commentary.

The region of Michigan I hail from (the central Lower Peninsula) was a popular destination for German immigrants, especially from Bavaria. The stream continued into the early to mid-20th Century. I knew a customer who shopped at the store where I worked who had been a radioman in the Wehrmacht during World War II, and transplanted to the area after the war to farm. [As an aside, I also knew a Polish cavalry officer who moved into town, too--of his 70 man company that mustered into service on September 1, 1939, exactly 7 would survive the war. Never say small towns lack "diversity" in my presence.]

Indeed, the immigrant stream consisted largely of farmers (Germans looking for more land--quelle suprise!) and they settled in quickly and became the backbone of the region. Slightly clannish, they established social clubs for Germans throughout the region and State. Bearing titles like "the Germania Club" or "Carpathia (!) Club," they were by, for, and of the Deutsch. They still exist today. More power to 'em. As long as you are German, you can join. It doesn't matter if you are an anesthesiologist or a zoologist, a Republican or an anarchist. If you are a Teuton, welcome aboard!

All of this is a prelude to the hubbub caused by the elevation of the new Pope, who has stated in the past that he thinks (though he's not pushing for it) that the Church will be a smaller but more coherent entity in the future. This has led to a lot of discussion, including, unfortunately and uncharitably, the first sentiment in the above title. That is an evil mindset, and runs wholly against the Great Commission.

However, in all of the discussion, the other extreme has been touched upon only peripherally--the impossibly Big Tent, which stretches and deforms the term "Catholic" until it is literally without meaning. A lot of the problem facing the Church in the West today is that Catholicism is treated like an ethnicity, and the Church like a glorified Germania Club, with a theological debating society appended to it (attendance and dues optional). What you do and what you believe is relatively unimportant next to the ethnic descriptor--"I'm Catholic." Just be nice and don't damage the Club grounds. And far too often, the Church's shepherds have indulged this mindset to the point of negligence, all in the name of "being pastoral." As a result, the lowest common denominator prevails.

Look, I want the Church to be as large as possible. Frankly, I want everyone to be Catholic. For all of the flaws of the clergy and laity, I believe that Catholicism is absolutely true and a wholly life-changing and life-giving faith. I want everyone to have what I have (periodic gouts of bile optional).

But in order to be that, it has to be coherent. There have to be bright lines. It has to mean something. It has to be true. If preaching truth offends, I don't want the dissenters chased away by howling orthodox mobs waving torches. I want them to embrace the truth--conversion--like I did. The flip side is that I don't want them on prominent soapboxes, beating the drums for all the errors that have left a huge and growing swath of mainline Protestantism (Motto: "The Almighty's Cautionary Tale") bled white and a half-step from clinical brain death. Fr. Feelgood and Sr. Medea need to be corrected, and, if necessary, have the car keys taken away before they kill someone. But that has to be done with the understanding that Christ died for them, too, and their best shot is to persuade them that they need to stay on the Barque of Peter. If they won't listen, so be it, but no rejoicing. Even though he behaves like a total turd (and is regarded as a brilliant theologian only within the windy halls of his own cranium), Matthew Fox's defection is, at its heart, a great tragedy. But the truth has to be preached even if it does have the effect of driving some out.

Because the risk is this: the failure to preach it will drive out even more, who will regard the ersatz "gospel" of the Fr. Feelgoods as the option they preach it to be, and will confuse the imitation with the real thing. And that is an even more horrific tragedy.

Ad multos annos--and then some.

A very interesting, if sci-fi-ish, look at the potential impact of life-extending technologies on the Papacy (and other institutions).

Though I am reminded that eternal life without God is the very definition of Hell itself....

Thought-provoking stuff, to be sure. It reminds me of a short story contained in the long-out-of-print anthology, The Last Man on Earth, in which the protagonist discovers a serum for immortality. The only side effect is the complete loss of the emotions and indeed, the ability to form attachments with human beings at all. It's a trade he's willing to make, but learns quickly of the cost.

Likewise this--I wonder if such technology might not end in perpetual madness. Our frames simply were not built for this sort of thing--at least not in their current forms.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Pontiff.

The always-engaging Patty has come around to my way of thinking ("Sister Havana" is running through my brain right now), but she adds a hilarious image to the SuperPope discussion:

"Papal Flying Heresy Daggers."

Now that would be an action figure.

Insight into Benedict XVI's view of the problem of secularism.

An interesting couple of parables taken from the new preface to Introduction to Christianity:

According to Ratzinger’s analysis, post-Enlightenment Christianity in Europe had been conned into adopting an evangelical strategy too superficial in its approach and too intimidated by Enlightened objections to Christian doctrine. He illustrated the reasoning behind this anemic strategy with a parable, one that Søren Kierkegaard once recounted about a fire that breaks out backstage right before a circus is set to perform. In panic the stage manager sends out one of the performers—a clown as it happens, and naturally already in costume—to warn the audience to leave immediately. But the spectators take the clown’s desperate pleas as part of his schtick; and the more he gesticulates the more they laugh, until fire engulfs the whole theater. This, said Kierkegaard, is the situation of Christians: The more they gesticulate with their creed, the more laughable they seem to their skeptical neighbors, until the world becomes engulfed in the flames of war and mutual hatred—a hell on earth as prelude to the hell after death. If only these Christian clowns had first thought to change out of their goofy costume, he implied, the theatergoing world might have been spared.

Kierkegaard did not explicitly say just what kind of funny clothes he thought Christians should now strip off to make their message of impending doom more credible. But whatever costume this Danish philosopher felt Christians should doff, his parable, at least for the professor from Regensburg, does not get at the real dilemma of preaching the gospel to a secular culture. The very news that a fire is on the way—and, above all, that we can be spared by the simple expedient of a belief in a transworldly message (why not just leave the theater?)—strikes the contemporary secular spectator as much more incredible than any costumed language in which it might be couched.

Change the rites of the Mass from Latin to the vernacular, call on nuns to modernize their habits, introduce guitars and folk music in the Church’s worship, address the modern world in tones of respect and hope, praise modernity for its achievements—the core of the message will still seem absurd to the secular mind.

So maybe Kierkegaard misled us with his famous parable. Perhaps another story is more appropriate. For that reason, the future cardinal began his book with an even more somber narrative, one of the fairy tales from the Brothers Grimm. Once upon a time, a poor widow sends her young son Hans into the village to fetch a simple meal, and along the way into town he discovers a lump of gold. Thrilled, he heads back home to show his mother his amazing good luck. But no sooner has he started back than he meets a knight who persuades him to exchange the gold for the knight’s steed. “The better for plowing!” the knight assures the boy. Further down the way, a farmer explains that the widow can’t eat a horse, so why not exchange the horse for the farmer’s cow? After making this seemingly reasonable bargain, the boy continues home but then meets up with a neighbor carrying a goose under his arm. Of course the widow wants a meal today, says the neighbor, so why not exchange cow for goose? Done. Finally, nearly home, he meets up with a boy who tells him that if he exchanges the goose for a whetstone he can keep his knife sharpened for slaughtering any number of geese in the future. Done again. But when he gets home he notices the clumsy stone in his pocket and, puzzled at its presence, throws it away before crossing the threshold of his home, none the sadder and certainly none the wiser.

Anyone who has followed the path taken by Protestant theology in the past two centuries, and by Catholic theology in the past four decades, already knows the point of this story: All the costume changes in the world won’t matter if the messenger has squandered his treasure by altering his message to suit the convenience of the audience.

For Ratzinger, creeds matter only if what they proclaim is true, and if Christians deep down don’t really think so, then all the translation strategies in the world will mean nothing:

"The worried Christian of today is often bothered by questions like these: has our theology in the last few years not taken in many ways a similar path? Has it not gradually watered down the demands of faith, which had been found all too demanding, always only so little that nothing important seemed to be lost, yet always so much that it was soon possible to venture on to the next step? And will poor Hans, the Christian who trustfully let himself be led from exchange to exchange, from interpretation to interpretation, not really soon hold in his hand, instead of the gold with which he began, only a whetstone, which he can be confidently recommended to throw away?"

Here we have a very helpful insight into where the Pope intends to steer the Church in the 21st Century. Buckle up--it sure won't be dull.

Lest we forget, the left has its own version of SuperPope.

Rocket Pope! Powered in part by abortion and experimentation on human life.

Nice!

[Thanks to Tom at the Donegal Express.]

"WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!"

--Patrick Star.

Good Lord, Sitemeter just about shorted out! Many thanks to Amy and Mark for their generous links. We don't get 1000+ page views per day much in these parts. Make that "ever." In fact, this is so far beyond even a blast from those eminent bloggers that I wonder if there's another link out there that's a partial cause. If you know of any, leave a comment. I hate to leave such folks unacknowledged.

I almost feel like putting the Paypal button back up. But given the embarrassing cricket notes from last time, I'll pass.

Welcome, huge surge of new readers--you just arrived at Catholic blogdom's 98th floor (the air's a little thin up here). Think a combination of dwarf-tossing meets the Ultimate Fighting Championship meets Face the (Catholic) Nation. If that doesn't help, try this: I like hockey fights and the Liturgy of the Hours. A sort of "Jungian-duality-of-man-thing," to quote Full Metal Jacket.

Anyhow, thanks for the visit--and yes, I do need to update Greatest Snits.

Repeat after me:

"SuperPope does not exist. SuperPope does not exist...."

I've done some surfing among fellow parishoners, and I'd like to toss a bucket of cold water on the ecstasy, if I may.

Yes, I'm very, very pleased with the selection of Cdl. Ratzinger to the papacy. Even though I was more of an Arinze man (and the Church is going to have to select a Pope from the areas where it is growing explosively sooner rather than later), I am by no means disappointed with the outcome. Ad multos annos, papa!

[Impending Qualifier Alert.]

But.

Let's tamp down our expectations a little, shall we?

We'd all like to see Pope Benedict XVI come swooping in on a jet liner to visit every rotten diocese in the English-speaking world, opening the six-pack of theological whoop-ass on free-lancing bishops, bizarro Jesuits/Dominicans/Paulists/Etc., feminista religious (male and female), whack job liturgists/liturgies and so forth. Yes, I would love to see him visit L.A., soak a copy of Gather Faithfully Together in lighter fluid and burn it in public in front of a sackcloth-clad Cdl. Mahony who had just announced his retirement from office and watch the Pope announce that the retired archbishop's penance would be to run a gauntlet between rows of the families of the victims of his pervert priests. And then watch him announce his visit to the Diocese of Dallas, then Manchester, then...

We would all enjoy the announcement of an interdict on every Catholic education institution that failed to publicly adhere to a much more fearsome version of Ex Corde Ecclesia.

I, too, would delight in an announcement that failure to adhere to the last jot of Redemptionis Sacramentum--and the rubrics in general--would result in the appointment of a co-adjutor just promoted from faculty work at a FSSP seminary.

Indeed, we can all construct scenarios in which the wicked are given their just reward by a stern Pope bent on rooting out every last problem in the Church.

But it's not going to happen like that. He's Benedict XVI, not Kickass Micromanager I. Will he take a firmer hand? Almost certainly. Will he more forcefully confront the centrifugal forces of dissent within the Church? Yep (and that will be interesting to watch, too). Will, at the end of the day, he have a collection of heads mounted over the windows of St. Peter's? No. Collegiality, folks.

Bishops, religious, theologians and chancery personnel who didn't listen to Pope John Paul II for 26 years aren't going to start listening to his successor, now, are they? If you were frustrated before, don't magically expect things to get all better. You will be disappointed. Modernism didn't just emerge like Athena from the brow of Zeus, and it won't be cured by SuperPope fiat, either. If St. Pius X and Pius XII couldn't do it, what makes you think Benedict XVI can?

But--and this is a happy qualifier--Benedict XVI is going to make it much harder for them to manuever, and since they aren't exactly replicating themselves, that will probably be sufficient.

Things will get better. But far more slowly than any of us want them to. Patience, people.

Benedict XVI.

Initial impressions:

1. Two days?! I thought less than four, actually. But more than four ballots, to be sure.

2. That'll work.

3. Holy crap--who would have imagined this two years ago?

4. My dog has been barking incessantly since the Pope walked out on the balcony. Puzzled, I went outside to try to figure out her problem. After going around the yard, I was able to discern an almost imperceptible, high-pitched keening sound coming from the southwest...

5. Well, Chris Blosser's going to be swarmed under for the next several months.

6. If Ignatius Press is publicly traded--BUY!

7. John Allen's going to be able to get the 2006 SUV of his choice.

8. The prophecies of St. Malachy are officially starting to weird me out a little bit. Yes, it's one of those "you can fulfill it yourself" deals, but still. The world's most consistently interesting alleged Renaissance forgeries.

9. One more point about the name: remember who the last Benedict succeeded. Subtext: I am following a Saint.

10. Book Recommendations (his writings may sell as well as, or better than, PJPII's, given that he has a more accessible writing style):

a. Introduction to Christianity: An explication of the Apostle's Creed. One of the minds behind the Catechism, it shows here.

b. Called to Communion: a short primer on ecclesiology, and offers insight into future governance. It won't look like Paris after the invention of the guillotine, folks, at least as far as lousy bishops are concerned.

No matter how much we might want that. But crappy theologians are another matter--Ex Corde Ecclesia may be taken into the shop and given to Q for some "enhancements."

c. The Spirit of the Liturgy: what the new Pope thinks of modern Catholic worship. Hint--needs improvement.

d. Many Religions, One Covenant: Israel, the Church and the World. The Church's outstretched hand to Judaism will not change, though you probably shouldn't rule out a different approach to non-Christian religions.

11. He's not going to be as hopeful as PJPII. A flintier, grimmer assessment seems to inform his worldview. Ironically, that may be the most hopeful thing about the papacy to come. To paraphrase his acceptance commentary, we all have much work to do in the vineyard.

Good article about Cardinal Maida in Rome.

Just before the Conclave started, Cardinal Maida visited his "parish" in Rome, St. Vitalis, and got a warm reception:

Applause greeted Maida after he rose at the end of mass to salute the congregation.
"It is especially significant that we come together at this historic church. You've witnessed many conclaves, and today, on the eve of another conclave, we pray together," Maida told them in English. "Pray for me. Pray for my brother cardinals, for the church ... that we be guided by the Holy Spirit."

Mauro Medaglini, who was ordained as a Catholic deacon Saturday night in the church, was gleeful after meeting Maida. "I said to his eminence that it's a good omen for me, a good start, that I meet him now," Medaglini said.

When Pope John Paul II installed Maida as a cardinal in 1994, he also named him the titular leader of the Church of St. Vitalis, named for a martyr whose Second-Century death by being buried alive is portrayed on a recently restored side wall mural in the front of the church. The church's formal name also includes the names of St. Vitalis' wife, Valeris, and children Gervase and Protase.

The church is on a busy Rome street, Via Nazionale, and -- coincidentally -- across the street from the Hotel Michigan. One of the oldest churches in Rome, it is built in the rectangular basilica style and reached by 35 steps.

One of my great-grandfathers was named Vitalis--I wonder if it was a deliberate homage, or just an interesting coincidence. All I need now is about $2500 to get over to Rome for a visit and to start the geneological research...

My prayer for the Conclave.

Lord, may the one selected be the man the Church needs: the right man, in the right place, at the right time.

Black smoke so far, so it's no time to slack off in the prayer department.