Is Ecumenism a Dirty Word?

We travel in a few different circles, our family. Our old homeschool co-op was Christian based, we have many non-denominational Christian friends locally, and our son plays in a Christian (rather than secular) basketball league now. But we are firmly planted in our own traditional Catholic parish community, our Catholic co-op, and various other Catholic social circles. Our interactions are most always respectful, positive, and mutually-supportive, even though we belong to different faith traditions.

But it's strange times we are living in, isn't it? The culture wars are raging all around us, and sometimes there are unlikely allies. We had a Catholic guys pub night last weekend, and one of the guys (a father of 9) brought up the Muslim parents joining forces with the Christian parents in Detroit in protest of the sexualizing of children at a school board meeting. He said, "I'd almost rather have an on-fire Muslim in the trenches with me than a lukewarm Catholic when it comes to this stuff."

 So, I had a thought at work this afternoon, and I proposed to following to a Christian friend of mine via text:

"I would love to have a Catholic--Protestant party. Get together some great minds to meet on our common ground on a variety of topics. Whiskey or tea, hors d'oeuvres, fire, and good old fashioned discussion about what matters. And for mutual learning and enrichment."

So, I'm flushing out the idea here (on this post) because it's as good a place as any to get the thoughts out. I have as my ideal a meeting of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, or Chesterton and...some other Christian intellectual heavyweight who enjoys good spirits. Here's what I was thinking:

-It would be by invitation only, and relatively small to start (8-10 individuals or couples); possibility of being a once-a-month get-togther.

-The 'topics for discussion' would be drafted ahead of time and presented with questions to aid the discussion.

-The bloc would consist of 50% Catholic participants and 50% Protestant.

-The purpose would be one of mutual-learning in a respectful manner (not aggressive conversion tactics). It would give opportunity for Catholics to present their beliefs as Catholics (hopefully to dispel prejudices) and give Protestant participants the opportunity to do so as well. 

-Each person present would have an opportunity to share with equal time; discussions would be informal, though would hopefully piggyback off more formal, prepared discussion topics.

It would also be important to lay down agreed-upon ground rules and set expectations ahead of time. The purpose of the time together would be:

-to learn about where our commonalities lie, so that we can join forces in the culture war

-to learn more about what others believe in their respective traditions to be well-rounded human beings. 

-to have robust philosophical and theological discussions over good food and drink, about the things that matter

-the topics would not be 'hot button' for the purpose of dissention, but challenging and nuanced enough to provide fruitful and intellectually stimulating discussion.

-the most important underlying quality that would have to be manifested among participants is listening, detachment, openness to learn, non-judgmental friendship, and respectful dialogue.

All that being said, does ecumenism have value? Is it something that should be cultivated or encouraged at all, by either Catholics or Protestants alike? Or is it just a hippy-dippy kumbaya ideal of the (Second Vatican) Council to encourage 'dialogue?'

I think the difference is if these people you are 'dialoguing' with are strangers or neighbors. I have a good friend, a faithful Christian man and dad, who is a mentor of sorts for me. We lean on each other in various capacities, and our interactions are always respectful. We sometimes are forced to navigate the precarious differences in our theology deftly, since our friendship feels greater than any theological differences we may have. In this case, Friendship>Theology

One of my favorite films is Of Gods And Men, the story of the Algerian Trappists who were kidnapped by Islamist terrorists in the 1990's (I believe), who lived among their Muslim neighbors. That, in my mind, is not religious syncretism and there is nothing hippy-dippy about it--just hard reality, and respectful co-existence. 

The past two years have been so crazy, maybe the vibe is right now to start something like this, very enjoyable and informal--just different friends coming together over a common purpose, when they may not have mixed together at all otherwise. Plus I need something to look forward to during the bleak days of winter after New Years!

Good idea? Bad idea? I'm willing to try anything once, as long as it is for the glory of Christ and the good of neighbor--Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise!

Do Men Need Other Men?

Every now and then I will hear a story of an old lady who lives alone who passes away. Sometimes it is days or weeks before the super gets wind of it or anyone notices, and when they open the apartment, it's a dreadful smell of weeks-old death. I hate hearing stories like this, and yet I think it's more common than we think. 

I'll confess to feeling a bit of resentment sometimes when my mind gets to speculating. I feel like I'm always checking in with people, but people rarely check in with me. Aside from my family, if I passed away in my room, how long before anyone would notice?

 One of my personal Achilles' Heel is being a relational person. Whereas most Catholic men are content to just be with their families and go to work, I feel I benefit from outside relationships. This often makes me feel like a defective archetype, a "less-than" man, and a shameful weakness. It's not normal to be like this. It's kind of womanly.

There was a helpful article I came across in Catholic Exchange on this topic. I'll quote a bit of it, as the author and I seem to be on the same frustrated page:

“Do men, Catholic men, need the support of other Catholic men?”

A few years ago, I asked this question of my friend, and fellow parishioner, Jack. “Of course they do,” he replied. “I couldn’t get my job done at work without the support of the men in my department. And I’d go crazy from all the stress I’m under if I didn’t go out every Sunday with my buddies from St. Mary’s and play golf. You know, ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull guy.’”

“I see your point, Jack,” I responded. “But that’s not what I mean. Do Catholic men need to share their lives with other men on a personal level? Do men need to be part of a group in which they can build close relationships by sharing their personal and common struggles, pray for one another, support one another, and hold one another accountable to live an authentic Catholic Christian life of integrity?”

“Well, now you’re talking about a whole new ball game,” Jack replied. “What you’re describing goes against the whole grain of who we are as men. By nature, men are created to be individualistic, strong, independent, self-reliant, self-sufficient, and guarded. We keep our distance from other men. We have to. Remember, men have always been the protectors of their family. Why, the highest compliment a man can receive is to be called a ‘self-made man.’”

“I agree with you, Jack, that men have certain God-given characteristics so they can fulfill their roles as protectors and providers of their family. But let me ask you a couple of questions: Have there been times in your life when you felt helpless or lacked the power or wisdom to change things? I’m talking about destructive behavior in one of your kids, grave disagreements with your wife, or a splintered relationship with a family member. Have you ever felt powerless to fight certain temptations or sinful habits?”

At this point Jack got very quiet. Then he said, “How about the playoffs so far. I don’t think the Yankees or Red Sox are going to make it. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Jack is not alone in believing that when it comes to our personal lives, men are not called to share them with other men. Yet, if we are honest with ourselves, we all know how difficult it is for men and their families to thrive in today’s culture. The ever-increasing demands on men’s time and energies and the collapse of traditional values and support structures underscore this challenge. Yet, I do not believe that God intended for Catholic men to live out their faith on their own.

Times have indeed changed. We’re working harder, our schedules are tight, and what little time we have is often used for television, sports, or activities that help us unwind. This has led to men having even more superficial relationships with other men. In spite of this, I do not think most Catholic men even consider that they need to be part of a group that prays together, or to have committed brothers in Christ who could offer prayer and sound advice to help them through difficult circumstances."

I will confess to feeling frustration with my local men's group, but it's not their fault--I find we connect well over "things"--events, shooting guns, worship events, bible study, social things, etc. But rarely do any of us get "real" enough to share our struggles with one another. We struggle alone. Part of me understands this, and part of my frustration bubbles up in saying, "well, what's the point of this, then?" 

Years ago there was a guy from our old parish, a few years younger then me with a large family who had some struggles with the common sins for men, as well as scruples. He was a blue collar guy, but sensitive enough to reach out and share a degree of vulnerability. I was doing my best to give him support and some guidance, sharing resources, etc, but eventually like a rubber band the relationship snapped back into the "I only need my family and not other men" mode. And I never heard from him again. 

I think all this goes back to that issue of expecting more of people than they may be willing to give. Just because I find I need support and relationships with other people, doesn't mean other men do. Part of me gets in this "well, screw this" mode and retreats, trying to be more like them--self-contained, not reaching out when struggling, keeping to oneself, etc--but it's just not how I'm wired. So I end up getting resentful--both that I'm not more like the other guys, and part that they're not more like me (and that I'm able to relate to someone on the same level). 

Augustine writes beautifully on the need for friendship, and that Christian friendship is the highest ideal. The love between two men is a beautiful thing, but many men are uncomfortable with it because it feels gay and too vulnerable. But Augustine had this with Alypius (as he recounts in Confesssions), and that love was not superficial or surface-y. But today, this is a rare thing indeed, and I have not found it.

So, the question remains--do men really need other men? Their wives might say, "yes, totally." And maybe a man might even think deep down inside he could benefit from it. But I rarely find a man willing to say, "I need a brother in Christ to help me be accountable, help carry my cross, push me, etc". We have these group things like Exodus 90, etc. where there's this warrior/knight/soldier archetype which is kind of generic and works for a lot of guys, but I find I just don't operate that way. I have a lot of guys I know--but not "one good friend" who I feel I can confide in, or if I can, that he would feel the same way. Like the U2 song goes, "I still haven't found what I'm looking for."

Why (And How) To Admonish A Brother In Charity

 

I was reading through 1 Cor 5 this morning, where Paul says of the incestuous brethren "hand this man over to Satan, for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved on the day of the Lord." He goes on to say, "What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside." And in verse 11, "But now I am writing to you that you must not associate with anyone who claims to be a brother or sister but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or slanderer, a drunkard or swindler. Do not even eat with such people."

This parlays into chapter 6, "is it possible that there is nobody among you wise enough to judge a dispute between believers? But instead, one brother takes another to court--and this in front of unbelievers!"

As believers, we often we take our brothers and sisters to court--the court of public opinion. In the zeal to uphold God's precepts and expose wrongs, we forget that our Lord gives us a methodological protocol to follow when a brother sins against us:

“If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector." (Mt 18:15)  

Admonishment is a spiritual work of mercy, and a difficult one. It can be done to accomplish "the salvation of the soul" in preparation for the day of judgement, and it can also be done with less than charitable motivations--out of pride or condemnation, or self-justification. If God judges the heart, he will not spare our own when it comes to the motivation for undertaking this spiritual work.

Our Lord speaks on this matter in a circumstantial situation, but the four steps--private presentation, calling of witnesses, the ecclesial court, and casting out--are to be followed in order. 

The most difficult thing with a wayward brother is that he may not have ears to hear, unless he is disposed to correction. Therefore, one must approach a wounded brother the way they might a wounded animal in a corner--with care and gentleness. The old adage, "nobody cares what you know, until they know that you care" holds true. Heavy handed and self-important condemnations only seek to build up the pride of the admonisher. And if one has not love, "they are a resounding gong" to be tuned out. 

How does one communicate such love? I think one really needs to have a relationship with the person first to have any ground to stand on. They also need to be trustworthy, filled with charity, prayerful, and selfless. Are you those things? If not, maybe spend some time building up your own house before trying to clean someone else's. 

If you are, and your brother doesn't listen after being presented (in charity) with his sin, it's time to assemble the witnesses. Again, this can feel like a gang-up or intervention, so choose your witnesses carefully--men of integrity and sensitivity, prayerful, and strong. But sometimes it's not the spirit, but the nuts and bolts, of HOW to actually bring a church brother's sin before him? I see an ineffective approach going like this: "Listen, you gotta knock this off. You're embarrassing yourself and your family. Now man up, and quit it." Maybe a more effective approach is to shoulder some of the weight: "Brother, we love you and are concerned for you. Your (x) sin is eating you up. So, we will be praying and fasting for you for the next three weeks for your intentions and for the grace of the Holy Spirit to heal you." Something like that.

To bring before the Church a brother's sin is--well, I don't know exactly what that looks like or how it works today. Does one bring it up to a priest? The bishop? What exactly would be the 'next steps' if so? Most bishops and many priests are so removed from this kind of small-church relationship with their flock that I'm not sure how it would apply today. Maybe he means 'the church' small c, meaning the community of believers. Most of us do not have the kind of small intentional church community the early apostles did. But our Lord notes it, so it must be important.

Finally, to treat a brother as pagan or tax collector when their hearts are hardened and they will not listen is a hard but necessary final step. It's a 'hard mercy' but an inevitable one "not to even eat with them." In many ways the brother has already cast himself off from the community, and without repentance, has made a choice to set himself outside the community. This can be a formative time of wasteland searching, but also makes them susceptible to being 'picked up' by other non-Catholic groups. Many Protestants capitalize on the disenfranchisement with Catholicism among many so called "ex-Catholics." "Come join us. We have good music and fellowship, prayer groups, and take care of one another." It's an effective recruitment strategy, and part of me can't even blame them for doing so. We have not always treated and supported our brothers in the true faith in a way fitting of a Christian, and drive them away as a result. Sometimes it is an attachment to a particular sin, but sometimes it is Catholics themselves that drive others from the Church. 

To distill the aforementioned--prayer, sacrifice (penance), love, concern, charity, firm but truthful exposition, support, and forgiveness are the right ways to admonish a brother. Public shaming, gossip, condemnation...these are not of the Spirit. It is not our job to save our brothers' souls, but we play a part in doing the work of mercy when it is warranted. We must do so with prayerful prudence, discernment, and charity, and be willing to sacrifice as well. They must know the concern comes from a place of love and concern, not judgement. Even then, they may not listen, at which point we hand them over to the Lord to do and heal what only He can do and heal. But that doesn't absolve us from the sometimes uncomfortable work. It can show whether our love and concern is true, or just self-elevating posturing. 

The Good Samaritan

 Yesterday I was really struggling...complete emptiness and the familiar creep of depression rolling in. Though I've battled it for the past twenty-some years, it still catches me off guard sometimes. Self-accusation, feelings of failure, bitter loneliness (even in the midst of people who love me), lack of energy, and self-isolation. None of my depressions these days are too long-lived (unlike in the past, where they would stretch for weeks or months), but they can be fierce like a tempest.

I went through my mental rolodex of people to call, but was struggling to think of anyone who would understand. Except there was one guy who I thought might, though I hadn't talked to him since I met him at the Courage conference a couple years ago (as an aside, I don't have SSA, but have friends who do, so thought it would be a good chance to understand some of the issues in the Church surrounding SSA and help support those who were trying to live chaste lives by the Church's teachings). 

I have a general policy, that if anyone flashes through my mind at a given point, I either pick up the phone or email/text them, figuring there is a reason why they popped into my consciousness. In this case, I think it really was divine inspiration. This was a man who had lived the gay lifestyle for years until he was converted and came back to the faith, and now lives chastely. An unlikely friendship, honestly. We talked for about two hours, and it was a true balm. I was actually surprised, at the end of the conversation, I was able to get off the couch and do some things--planted some tomato plants after work, cleaned a little around the house. He was kind and encouraging, didn't write me off, and though it wasn't anything in particular he said, it was enough to know that someone believed in you and cared enough to take the time to talk. 

In "Bring Me My Weapon" I wrote:

The thought of killing myself hadn't crossed my mind in a number of years. So I didn't recognize it when it appeared tonight in my bedroom like an unwelcome guest, a Stranger "rapping sharply, four times...on the fatal door of destiny."

I hadn't invited the Thought. It seemed a culmination of events had led to leaving the door slightly ajar, able to be pushed in from the outside. Feelings of betrayal from friends, stress at work and home, and doubt were likely suspects, but not enough to explain the barrage of negative and aggressive thoughts, the usual suspects: "It's useless. You'll never amount to anything. Better off without you. You have no one. You are alone. Just get it over with already and quit wasting our time."   Everything just seemed to be going down. I lay in bed and stared at the wall. Tears had dried up hours ago but I was weary and had trouble moving out of bed.

This seemed like a similar outside attack, but it's hard to distinguish sometimes--brain chemistry, circumstances, moods, and of course the spiritual. All I know is I was feeling brutally low, and I was grateful this ex-gay man picked up the phone when I called. There must have a been a reason he came into my mind. These periods can be frightening, when you are fighting your own mind. Kindness has such a soft connotation, but when it is sincere, it can reach places where other approaches can't. Most of the time, in these periods, I recognize that people have their own stuff they are going through and precious little time, so it makes it harder to reach out. Plus you don't want people to see you when you are your worst. But this man took the time, as much time as I needed, and bandaged my mental wounds just by caring about me in that moment.

So, I'll stick to my policy of reaching out to others, and reaching out myself, when a flash of a person comes through my mind and take it as divine inspiration. I'm sure there was a reason this time.

The Dangers of the TLM Fight Club

I'm not a film buff, per se, but I do like movies that make you think outside the box. I can't always recommend them in good conscience, but at one point I was willing to look past the undesirable and objectionable parts if it was unique. Films like The Matrix, Kill Bill, Constantine, I Heart Huckabees--at least they got me thinking. Again, I can't recommend any of them because of their content, as I don't think the positives outweigh the potential negatives, but I'll give them credit for being unique. 

Fight Club was in this kind of cult category. I saw it maybe twenty years ago (I'm a huge Brad Pitt and Edward Norton fan as well). It's a hard movie to give a synopsis for but I'll try: The unnamed Narrator (Edward Norton) leads a life of emasculated, quiet desperation as a cog in the corporate wheel (essentially "a consumer," as he seeks to describe his existence and evidenced by his obsession with "completion" by way of his IKEA-manicured condo and soul-sucking business trips replete with "single serving" encounters). He's basically alive, but dead inside, not to mention suffering from insomnia.

The Narrator's alter-ego--the confident, virile, and violent hyper-masculine Tyler Durden--is everything the narrator is not. The Narrator likes control--Tyler tells him to "stop trying to control everything." He teaches him "rock bottom" lessons (like letting go of the steering wheel in the car and stepping on the gas, I presume to show him you can survive more than you think you can after they barrel roll over a median, blowing up the Narrator's condo (detachment) and pouring lye on his hands as a kind of pain-tolerance test).

Fight Club is the kind-of secret, underground after-hours movement that develops as a way for other emasculated men to come together and get out their repressed aggression--bare-knuckled fighting in basements. For the first time, they feel alive. This would be one thing, but Tyler sees it as a movement to free men from the drudgery of consumerism and founds Project Mayhem, a kind of domestic terror group spring from Fight Club with the ultimate goal of dismantling capitalism by blowing up the credit card companies. The movement grows; recruits stand outside the dilapidated mansion, which serves as home base in the sketchy outskirts of the city, without food or water and subject to hazing for three days to prove their meddle. Tyler becomes a kind of charismatic, fascist dictator in the process of taking things, well, a little too far. 

What does any of this have to do with the Traditional Latin Mass and the growing movement towards traditionalism in the Church, especially among young men? 

I'll grant that it might be an unorthodox way of developing parallelism, but I see a couple of cautionary points worth considering, if you're willing to think outside the box a little.

One: The post-conciliar Church is largely feminized and emasculated. This was my experience in the Novus Ordo, one I couldn't put my finger on for a long time. You can cite female lectors and EMs or overbearing Music Directors, or a ceding of paternal control to a largely female lay parish committee, or the hymns or the hand holding...the list goes on. What it boils down to is that, from my observations, the N.O. does not appeal to male sensibilities. 

Two: The vacuum will be filled one way or another. Either people leave the Church, with men leading the way out, or they will be brought back in by what appeals to those primal sensibilities. The rise of figures like Jordan Peterson and Fr. Ripperger are mobilizers in a way, to bring things back into right order and out of the chaos of the rubble when the Natural Law has been eschewed and inverted for decades.

At the TLM, the focus is not anthropocentric, but theocentric. The physicality and precision with which the sacrifice (the immolation of the Lamb, not a 'shared meal') is offered has a kind of military precision to it. It is unapologetic and uncompromising. In essence: it's not about you. And that is, I think, appealing to men. 

Three: It has the potential to go too far, when not tempered by virtue. When I attend monthly holy hour at the FSSP parish near us, fifty or sixty guys are praying the rosary and worshiping Christ. We gather in the basement afterwards for wings and beer, and a talk by the priest. It has a "Fight Club" type feel, without the Fighting. But this is because the priest is a sensible and level-headed shepherd that encourages virtue and discourages fringe-extremism. I think this is important. A charismatic but reckless priest has as much potential to lead men astray (by capitalizing on point #2, above) when his vision of the Church and holiness conflicts with the laws of the Church, prudence, temperance, and the other virtues, and/or ignores human freedom in favor of a kind of cult-like following. 

I have a real aversion to cults and cult-like thinking. I think cultish-traditionalism is as dangerous as hyper-emasculation. Younger men, especially those without temperance, wisdom, or good formation from their fathers, may be more susceptible to extremism. One young man who attended the TLM at our parish (which had nothing to do with our holy priest at the time, who unfortunately passed away from cancer two years ago, or our particular parish), spray-painted DEUS VULT and hurled a molotov cocktail at the local Planned Parenthood in an attempt to burn it down. I don't know what motivated him, but I think this is a unstable kind of zeal when it's not tempered. 

There's a way that men can get together and build one another up--even if it's in underground fashion in church basements in the sketchy part of town--without going completely Fight Club. Right Order=Right Worship, which is why I have hope that the traditionalist movement has potential to renew the Church, as long as it doesn't devolve into something antithetical to true Christian charity and the true nature of Christ as fully man, in all the best ways. We don't need Fight Clubs (nor do you need to watch the movie (please don't))--we need wisdom, prayer, and virtue, as well as priests to guide us without becoming cult-leaders--so that we can step into the roles we are called to as men, husbands, and fathers and lead our domestic churches in the home and renew the Church from the inside out and bottom up.