Mass Extinction: The Bishops’ Post-Communion Church

Barron Mind, A Series of Grievances

I don’t remember much from my meeting with Archbishop Alexander K. Sample, at least not about the conversation itself. Granted, this was ten years ago. Sample, then the newly installed ordinary of Portland, Oregon, had yet to reveal the breadth of his reactionary politics or bull-in-a-Hawthorne-district-coffee-shop pastoral sensibility, but the early indications hadn’t been promising. Prior to his appointment by Benedict the XVI in early 2013, his only claim to lame was a 19-page pastoral as bishop of Marquette which, among other things, “rule[d] out the notion of the deacon preaching the homily at Mass on a routine or scheduled basis.” That part, I recall, did come up, with Sample deflecting that his restrictions on preaching by lowly, not ontologically changed enough deacons had been “taken out of context” or “blown out of proportion” or some such.

The rest is like a fever dream. I remember being shunted from reception into a sterile room about the size of a walk-in closet. Sample emerged through a different door, along the opposite wall, frocked in a ceremonial, Claude Frollo cassock and smiling dead-eyed behind a smooth mask of indifferent cordiality. His office was large and professorial (or oaky, at least), and we discussed nothing of real substance. Which made sense: I was feeling out this new bishops’ spiritual, theological and political bent; he’d likely already surmised and dismissed mine. And so we stalked awkwardly along the edges of this vast ecclesiological (and ecclesial) chasm between us, until at last I was dismissed via a wholly separate door from where I’d entered, spilling confusedly out into the main lobby. As if I’d hallucinated the cramped antechamber along with the lanky, cadaverous old world vampire who’s words and voice I could even then hardly recall.

For years, I hadn’t thought much of this experience, beyond being a peculiar anecdote about an out-of-touch, self-regarding bishop tasked to (purportedly) shepherd a geographic region with little interest in or patience for his pious preening. But in light of the imploding (too soon?) pastoral situation in Sample’s diocese this week, something about this surreal, highly curated encounter, occurring as it did in the secluded lair of an anachronistically clad cleric, seems oddly prescient of the hidey-hole defiance and death-by-a-thousand-decrees elective self-destruction of his entire episcopate. Because ten years into the ambition-frustrating and culture war-subverting Francis papacy, guys like Sample are no longer playing nice. And, above all, they’re proving that whichever hill they choose to die on—be it queer panic, a Eucharistic “Revival” which keeps the Body of Christ conspicuously at wound’s length, or even taking aim at the Pope himself—it sure as shit ain’t Calvary.

Alexander the Grating
A curious detail of Sample’s episcopal resume is that while he was appointed by the late Pope Benedict XVI (rest in peace, Uncle Ben) in January 2013, his actual installation didn’t occur until April, nearly a month into Francis’ papacy. Looking back, one can’t imagine Alex was too pleased, not least because it inevitably sidelined him alongside a cadre of would-be cardinals, who over the next decade would find the rungs of their presumptive ladder kicked out from under them. These include former Seattle Archbishop J. Peter Sartain, heir apparent to Chicago Cardinal George, who would instead be passed over by fellow Washington State bishop (and subsequent TradCath bogeyman) Blase Cupich; Salvitore Cordileone, who’d spend the next decade railing (against) San Francisco gays with nary a Vatican plaudit to show for it; and Charles Chaput, who in 2020 became the first Philadelphia archbishop in a century to retire without a scarlet Zucchetto. These are guys, it should be noted, who were only a year prior fortnighting for freedom over gay marriage, all with Benedict himself egging them to take on “radical secularism.” Dutifully playing the Ratzinger/Wojtyła game, with even Sartain, the most mild-mannered of the bunch, going  into battle against the rector of his own cathedral.

So whether it's the bitterness of (the) age, coming to terms with the potential longevity of Francis’ legacy, or simply spending too much time on Twitter, lately Sample seems intent on making the worst of it. As mentioned in my previous column, back in January, Sample joined the interminably dunderheaded gender absolutist crusade (against literal children), codifying transphobia into archdiocesan policy (with “great joy,” no less; he really loves his polarizing manifestos, doesn’t he?). His edicts include that schools should only use student pronouns which correspond to their sex assigned at birth, as well as a prohibition on LGBTQIA-affirming signage. Well, in a turn which surprises exactly no one, the people who actually burdened to suffer these policies began to push back. Specifically, per Willamette Week, “A coalition of parents and educators representing over 15 different local parishes and schools is in the process of drafting a response, to express the concerns arising within their communities and invite the Archbishop to meet with a small group of representatives for further dialogue.” 

That, of course, is how these things go: most people have come to the reasonable conclusion that another person’s sexual or gender identity isn’t actually a problem, no matter how much the Church wishes to make it one. More shocking are the signs of internal revolt. According to the same WWeek article, Sample has apparently now shuttered the diocesan Catholic schools office, taking temporary direct control and presumably ousting the most recent superintendent. Moreover, at least one pastor claims his school principal has “given up her career” over conscientious objection to enforcing the new policies. In a must watch graduation homily, Fr. Mike Biewend not only hails Principal Carol Glasgow as “a true, living example of what it means to live by one’s conscience” and a “missionary disciple…living the light in the world by the teachings of Jesus,” but urges each student to appreciate “sacredness of what God has created you to be,” whether “heterosexual, homosexual, transgender…whatever the case.” 

Private Dining
Beyond simple “don’t give a fuckery,” Fr. Biewend’s homily highlights a crucial tension faced by the people who, unlike these bishops, are actually tasked with helping regular people find a spiritual home in the Church. Lately, that means a lot of episcopal damage control: in this case, desperately fighting for the possibility of faith among young people alienated by their own archbishop, while also trying to hold for himself the tradition of mercy, compassion and justice which said archbishop tramples in favor of bandwagon partisan polemics. One could argue Sample blundered in agitating liberal-minded educators and families amid a precarious Catholic school staffing, enrollment and financial reality, but it’s worth considering whether he or those like him want regular people in the Church at all. Because, as with the hard line against pronouns and Pride Flags, they constantly seem to be inventing their own doctrine of exclusion.

Take online reactions to Cardinal Cupich’s recent celebration of the 35th Anniversary Mass for AGLO, Chicago’s Archdiocesan Gay and Lesbian Outreach ministry. Never mind that his predecessor, Cardinal Francis George (whom USA Today once described as “a steadfast defender of Catholic moral teachings against abortion, gay marriage and divorce”) celebrated AGLO’s 25th Anniversary Mass, here, apparently, Cupich is being “a bad example” and “embracing mortal sin.” The thing is, there’s just no coherent theology against worshiping alongside a diocesan ministry committed to the Church’s own teachings, namely that gay people “must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity” and “are called to fulfill God's will in their lives and, if they are Christians, to unite to the sacrifice of the Lord's Cross…" (CCC 2348) That sacrifice, it should be noted, is manifested in the same Eucharist to which the bishops’ own supposed “Revival” also calls us to unite (but more on that below).

Simply speaking, I can think of no doctrinal or theological basis for precluding someone’s participation in the Mass. As anyone who’s attended a Catholic wedding or funeral can attest, not all who participate receive communion, nor do they even all need to be Catholic. And, in terms of those who do receive, the Divine Gracekeepers can hem and haw about “penance” and “repentance” all they want, but this has traditionally been a matter of personal conscience and pastoral discretion, but certainly not the mass (and Mass) bullying they’re presuming to engage in today. That includes the bishops, who gladly circumvent their own priests' primary authority in determining readiness for sacramental reception.

Jesus, We’ll Take the Wheel
Look, I’ve tried to be clear in the past that I don’t think being gay (or “doing gay stuff,” as the Catechism so helpfully clarifies) is a sin, but if you want to play that game, let’s play. Because the nominal grounds for declaring gay sex “sinful” are that it a) naturally precludes the gift of new life through procreation (I dare you to pull on that logical thread), and b) necessarily occurs outside the bonds of matrimony because the Church refuses to sanction same-sex marriage. Which really just means that, as far as “sins” go, all this is really no different than using birth control while cohabitating with your partner. So you may not approve that the guy processing in line ahead of you is living with his girlfriend, but I doubt you’ve ever snatched a host from his hand, let alone launched a protracted social media hate campaign against anyone like him. 

Then again, you do get the sense, especially with glaring theological dearth of the National Eucharistic Revival, that the bishops are careful not to suggest Jesus’ “uniting us once again around the source and summit of our faith” implies our actually receiving the Bread of Life. Take New York Cardinal Timothy Dolan (a key player in the aforementioned Fortnight antics), whose main contribution to the Revival thus far seems to be a series of video admonishments regarding the Mass: how not to dress, why we should shut up and be reverent, and, most tellingly, when we shouldn’t receive the Eucharist. Yes, we cannot remain “separated from the very source of our strength,” but not so fast, you dirty sinners! Even if you have simply “been away for a while” (which Dolan seems to equate with “grieviously [sic] hurting God or someone else”), you must first repent of your shameful lapse in devotion.

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling revived already! For those who’ve been paying attention, Dolan’s little flawedcast (don’t forget to smash that sub button) carries echoes of a LifeSiteNews-published tirade against Desiderio Desideravi, Pope Francis’ primary theological contribution (re: corrective) to the ill-advised effort. In the latter, the Holy Father asserts that “everyone (emphasis mine) is invited to the supper of the wedding of the Lamb” (suck it, anti-AGLO assholes) and that “all that is required is the wedding garment of faith” (as opposed to Dolan’s preferred, more staid attire). The LifeSite letter hits back on the grounds that mere belief is not enough (it was for Jesus, anyway): “The Catholic Church has always taught that in order to receive the Holy Eucharist worthily and without sin, Catholics must receive sacramental absolution…”

All of which is expected and profoundly dull. Except here, the pious, exclusionary theology spotlights the laughable hypocrisy underlying the entire “Revival” effort: How do you bring people back to the Eucharist while still maintaining their lack of “worth” to receive it? 

Look, Don’t Touch
Well, for one thing, you disregard Francis’ emphasis on “encounter.” In Evangelii Gaudium, the Pope’s inaugural mission statement for the Church, he recalls the words of Benedict XVI, which “take us to the very heart of the Gospel: ‘Being a Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.’” (EG 7) Francis, of course, takes pains to place this encounter in the context of “Jesus’ whole life,” meaning “his way of dealing with the poor, his actions, his integrity, his simple daily acts of generosity, and finally his complete self-giving, is precious and reveals the mystery of his divine life.” (EG 265) 

You’ll find little of this in Revival media, which seems to suggest we live by bread alone. Rather than emphasize anything resembling a relationship with Christ, inclusive of the Eucharist, they simply seek to “restore understanding and devotion.” That’s exactly what a video featuring Sr. Alicia Torres, FE—the young but appropriately-habited face of Revival—seems to do. For her, it was Adoration that really helped her “know” Jesus, not the Mass. She warmly invites us to know Jesus ourselves, saying anything and everything outside what that might actually mean. Because honestly, she and they don’t want us to know, lest we begin to appreciate the greater implications of the Eucharistic sacrifice, offered freely to all and uniting the whole world with the cross.

Jesus, you see, invites us to eat and drink his body and blood, not merely gaze upon it. It’s an invitation offered to Judas without the prerequisite of confession of his intent to betray, as it was to Peter despite his intent to deny him (an explicit Jesus no-no). And, in doing so, he impels us to actually receive and share this gift, inspiring similar sacrifice through the prophetic witness of our lives. Witness such as, say, that of a devoted school principal who refuses complicity in harming and fracturing the community she serves. Given that, it’s no wonder the bishops and their cronies so fear the all-encompassing power of this invitation. In response, they’ve actually downgraded the Lord’s Table, relegating it to a thin, empty ritual which stands at best adjacent to the real (Presence) show of Adoration and procession.

Rocky Foils
I’ve heard the Revival effort described as “Catholics Come Home,” but this, I’d argue, stems from an antiquated view of the post-Trump USCCB. When you combine the actions of bishops like Sample and Dolan with everything the Revival is unwilling or afraid to say, you get the updated picture, less  “Catholics Come Home,” more “So-Called Catholics Wait In Line and Bow Before Us, or Go Away.” All of which is a theological and pastoral agenda many “traditionalists” will defend tooth and nail, if not exactly in these words. Not only defend, but so anchor their fundamental conception of the Church’s being in these principles that they’ll label even the Pope a heretic and deceiver for daring to propose a vision more thoroughly grounded in Teaching and Tradition.

There’s an old “gut check” on whether you’re engaged in anything resembling God’s will: Do you have zeal for it? Is what you’re doing affirmed by the community? And does it bear fruit? A-plus on the first count, because the thing about zealots is they have zeal for days. But what affirmation are these bishops receiving, beyond a narrow cult of cowering online bullies? What fruit are they bearing, be it in witness, worship or belief? 

But, then again, I guess “affirmation” is too “woke” a concept these days. And we all know they want to expel all the fruits.

G. Fault

[Correction: an earlier version of this listed Chaput as former archbishop of Washington, D.C., not Philadelphia. I realized my mistake in the shower.]