Tuesday Afternoon
Jack pushes open the door to Zeena’s Daily Grind, a quaint coffee shop situated between a book shop and a thrift store. The bell jingles as he walks in, and Zeena steps out from the back, wiping her hands on her apron.
Zeena: Good afternoon, Jack.
Jack: Hi, Zeena.
Zeena: The usual?
Jack: Yes, but make it a double today.
Zeena turns and begins packing espresso grounds. Jack pulls out his wallet and looks about. He spots Fr. Daniel Dempsey sitting in the far corner. They give each other a wave, and Jack walks over.
Jack: Afternoon, Dan.
Daniel: Good to see you Jack. Want to join me?
Jack: That would be lovely. I’ll be back momentarily.
Jack pays Zeena and collects his americano before returning and sitting across from Daniel.
Daniel: You look troubled, my friend. Am I mistaken?
Jack: No, you have always been very discerning. (Forces a smile as he runs a hand through his hair.) It’s been a rough week, and it’s only Tuesday.
Daniel: Ah, yes. Your favorite parishioner came to visit me yesterday. I don’t suppose that is related?
Jack: Haha. Yes, I’m sure it is.
Daniel: He said you lost the plot during your sermon on Sunday.
Jack: I suppose that depends on how one looks at the matter. It felt to me like I was finally following it rather than losing it, but that certainly wouldn’t be how he viewed the matter. (After a pause.) Will he be leaving us and joining you?
Daniel: I imagine so, though I assure you I haven’t been prodding him to do so. There are mixed motives on his part, as is so often the case, and I’ve been trying to gently encourage him to distinguish those that are good from those that are misplaced. (After a brief pause he chuckles.) He practically begged me to place him in an RCIA group.
Jack: Haha. I suppose that tells you much of what you need to know. If he feels like a pagan in need of initiation, I’ve definitely failed him.
Daniel: I explained that it wasn’t necessary — that it’s for non-Christian converts. But yes, he has come to think that your communion isn’t really a communion at all.
Jack: He and thousands of others. They are seeking the “ancient faith of the fathers.”
Daniel: Well, on that front, there are plenty within the Catholic Church that feel the same way, saying that we have become too modern.
Jack: Such appeals to modernism seem faulty. If anything, the ability to view the liturgy as too “of the times” is a highly modern way of thinking.
Daniel: Hmm. If you mean that there isn’t a difference between our modern forms of worship and earlier forms of worship, I don’t see the fault. As I conceive of things, there’s certainly a difference. I just think there isn’t anything wrong with either, whereas some of my parishioners seem to think the ordinary form isn’t as good as the extraordinary form.
Jack: I agree. I don’t mean that there isn’t a difference; there clearly is. What I had in mind was the mindset that we adopt when we evaluate the distinct forms.
Daniel: Hmm, say more.
Jack: In my communion, when people register their preference for high church over low or middle church, they say that the high church liturgy is “more traditional” and more reverential.
Daniel: Yes, that is what I often hear about the Tridentine Mass.
Jack: What I am playing around with in my mind is that the very capacity to distinguish between more or less reverential liturgies on the basis of their overt presentation expresses a uniquely modern way of thinking. It is very — What do I mean? — consumerist, in a sense, though that doesn’t exactly capture what I mean.
Daniel: Hmm. I think I hear what you’re saying. Are you concerned with the way in which people shop around and pick and choose?
Jack: Yes, that’s part of it.
Daniel: (With a sly grin.) I think maybe the founder of your denomination had something to do with that development!
Jack: Hah, touché, my friend! Let me put it this way: the idea that one could select a form of worship that is more original than others on offer is something that would have been unthinkable in pre-modern times.
Daniel: Sure, that seems right. But again, I think the problem traces back to at least the Lutheran and English reformations. You folks went and messed everything up!
Jack: You’re right, and that is about the time I would peg the beginning of the modern era.
Daniel: Ah, I see. (Again smiling.) Sounds like you’re lamenting having to reap what has been sowed.
Jack: Haha, no need to pile on; guilty as charged.
Daniel: Let’s return to your point. I agree that there is something worrisome about shopping around for a liturgy, and I accept that it may be a uniquely modern phenomenon. But let’s try to imagine the potentially good motives such “traditionalists” might have. It seems to me they think there is something valuable and worth preserving in what they take to be more traditional forms of worship.
Jack: Sure. I think that’s what they mean when they say that the older forms are more reverential. But that assumes that the objective actions are what makes it reverential, whereas I think reverence is more subjective.
Daniel: I understand. I’ll confess, when I’m feeling cynical, I imagine that the real die-hard Latin lovers would have found the original last supper a bit too ordinary. Just some outlaws on the run, gathered around a dirty table, eating a meagre meal.
Jack laughs loudly and slaps his leg.
Jack: Oh, Dan, that is too much!
Daniel: Anyway, let’s return to the serious issue. The die-hards do talk about reverence, and I agree with you that it would be a mistake to think of reverence as an entirely objective matter. However, two thoughts come to mind. First, objective actions and elements can be more or less effective at getting people into a reverential state.
Jack: That’s true. Good point.
Daniel: The second is that I suspect there might be more going on than simply judging that one form is more reverential than another. People might feel as if the older forms of the liturgy bring them into a more felt union with God.
Jack: I think there are a few distinct concerns I have that come together to create a problematic nexus. The first directly relates to what you just said. I worry that aesthetic preference, performativity, and a desire to differentiate oneself from others are the driving motives behind the impulse toward anti-modern worship. Though I also think that’s often a driving motive for some contemporary worship styles as well.
Daniel: Undoubtedly, that’s probably the case in some instances. The fair thing to say is that if and when that is someone’s motive, there is room for growth.
Jack: Well put. The second thing is an expansion on that notion of differentiation. I often hear people talk as if the so-called “traditionalists” are “more Christian”—or, in your case, “more Catholic.” Even the people who are more modern say this about the traditionalists, which seems bonkers to me! Why would they think of themselves as “less”? But anyways, my criticism is that Jesus would have rejected all such notions. His stance towards the purity laws and the ritualistic piety of his own contemporaries demonstrates that he opposed placing priority on matters of ritual and cultic action. (Pauses.) More importantly, if we become overly concerned about proper action, we’re demonstrating that we are the sort of people who Saint Paul called the weak in faith. So, it’s ironic: the “traditionalists” aren’t very traditional, and when they suggest that they have somehow leveled up and are superior to others by posturing and insisting on strict ritualistic purity, they demonstrate a weakness of faith.
Daniel: Whoa boy! That’s quite a charge.
Jack: Am I wrong?
Daniel: I suppose not. I never really let Paul’s point on that matter land in the way you just presented it, so I will need to meditate on it. I will say this, though: I am concerned that some of my parishioners are effectively taking themselves out of communion when they seek to differentiate themselves from others.
Jack: Right. It is a form of unnecessary and counterproductive divisiveness. Part of me doesn’t know why I am perpetually surprised by that though. If the history of our religion has taught us anything it is that the disciples of the god that is love are highly concerned with demonstrating that they are right and others are wrong, and that they are members of the “right” communion.
Daniel: Yes, I suppose so, though I strive to be a bit more charitable.
Jack: Hah, yeah I’ll admit that when I’m cranky I tend to oversimplify matters.
Jack sighs and tentatively takes a first sip of his americano before continuing.
Jack: Many years ago, I said something in a conversation with a young man, which I’ve been thinking about quite often. At the time, it wasn’t something I had really thought through carefully, but rather, it just came out in light of what he and I were talking about. He was frustrated with his experiences in college and felt he couldn’t continue being a member of the church in which he was raised since he thought they were close-minded. I advised him to consider the possibility that, as a disciple of Christ, he could conceive of his proper place as being wherever he found himself. He was under no obligation or duty to leave, and there would be something honorable in staying and being with those whom he found frustrating and in need of growth.
Daniel: That certainly seems compatible with Christian discipleship. Indeed, if we return to your appeal to Saint Paul, his advice for those strong in the faith was to put up with those who were weak.
Jack: Exactly. Don’t call them out, but rather, call them in by being with them. (Pauses.) It’s hard though.
Daniel: Yes it is.
Jack: I told the young man he wasn’t obligated to stay in the community or communion in which he was raised, but it would be fine and perhaps even good to do so.
Daniel: I tend to agree. Of course, I feel a tension between that and my own commitment that the Catholic Church is the fullest realization of a communion of disciples.
Jack: I would imagine so! It is your duty, in part, to communicate that insight.
Daniel: As with so many things, it is difficult to determine when communicating that point is helpful rather than harmful, Not to mention how to do so without falling into the worst kind of evangelism. (Smiles and winks.) I’ve been working on you for 30 years, and so far, I haven’t been successful!
Jack: Haha, yeah. I’m not slouching my way toward Rome in the way others have.
Daniel: I also struggle with knowing how best communicate the relationship between the central beliefs, doctrines, and dogmas of the Catholic faith on the one hand, and evangelism and accompaniment on the other. I simply refuse to suggest that people are not welcome as they are, or that they can’t have doubts, though I think some of my brothers do so.
Jack: Right. The “change so you can belong” model of evangelism.
Daniel: Indeed, and that is very contrary to the evangelion. Belonging is the means of transformation; transformation isn’t the criteria for belonging. (Pauses.) This is a point on which your earlier reference to the uniquely modern character of anti-modern thought is relevant. So many people seem to think that being Christian is about believing the right sorts of things. Orthodoxy has supplanted orthopraxy as of primary concern.
Jack: Yes, what characterizes modernity is an obsession with ideology—either defending or reacting against ideological claims. The so-called anti-modernists who think of themselves as being in the throes of an ideological war are thoroughly modern. What if they just laid down their arms—which, nowadays, means getting off social media and turning off the TV—and spent all their time befriending the people whom they think so little of?
Jack looks at his watch.
Jack: Unfortunately, I have to get going in a few minutes. You’ll get a kick out of this: I have a meeting with the organizer of the local Secular Humanist Assembly. She wants to know if they can meet in the parish hall.
Daniel: Hahaha! Though it was horrible what happened to their building. I was glad nobody was injured. But, yes, it will provide me with endless amusement to know you’re going to be hosting them.
Jack: Well, I’m not sure we will. I’d love to, but the Vestry probably won’t approve it. Before I leave, I meant to see if you were still interested in reading Paul’s Letter to the Romans together. Our discussion reminded me.
Daniel: I certainly would enjoy that—and benefit from it. I forgot all about our enthusiastic plans! (Chuckles.) It has been almost a year ago now that we had that wild hair sprout up.
Jack laughs.
Jack: Part of me thinks it is a shame that we are so busy managing our parishes that we have increasingly few opportunities to study together. The times we spent doing so as young priests are among my most cherished memories.
Daniel: You know I feel the same. We are getting old and—if I am not mistaken—we are both feeling a bit like we are in the wilderness. Perhaps not the desert, but something on the outskirts.
Jack: Truly. Can we commit to rekindling our regular conversations?
Daniel: Yes. I think we must.
Jack: You and your notions of necessity.
Daniel: Oh, don’t misunderstand me. This is the “must” of surplus desire, not obligation!
Jack: Very good. How about this? Let’s read the first few chapters and then have dinner on Sunday night.
Daniel: Your place or mine?
Jack: Well, you are, by far, the better cook and I am the novice sommelier. So how about I join you and bring a bottle?
Daniel: Excellent, my friend.