So Worth It
Some characters are on a hunting trip in William Faulkner’s novel The Town. Tom Deignan, writing in the April 2022 issue of America, describes an unsettling encounter they have:
“A noise in some shrubbery compels one character to speculate that it might only be a ‘rabbit’ or it might be ‘a bigger varmint, one with more poison or anyhow more teeth.’ And ‘you can watch the bushes shaking but you can’t see what it is or which a way it’s going’ – at least, not ‘until it breaks out.‘
But by then it may be too late.”
I usually take some perhaps unearned pride in my tendency to think positively and optimistically about life, but when I read this passage, I felt something that has sadly become more familiar of late: an uncharacteristic wariness and fear that another dreadful unknown may pop up or creep out of bushes that have been shaking their warnings for years.
Yet I certainly, and I don’t think any of us, want to live our lives in that kind of continuous alarm and distrust. It’s too exhausting – and unproductive. And so, probably like you, I’m always on the lookout for strategies to help stay in a state of hopeful (It might, after all, be just a rabbit!) but realistic (Or not!) preparation.
There are certainly much more scary possibilities out there than the collapse of our Church (like, for example: Our nation! Our earth!). I even suspect some might say a force intent on dissolving the traditional Church popping up and creeping out may be the least scary prospect of all! But if you’re reading this, you most likely have some, or maybe even a great, love for the Church left, especially if you think of Church as “we, the people” as I do. (Interestingly, what “the Church = the people” sees shaking those bushes – um, folks in mitres wielding croziers? – can be so different from what the hierarchy sees – power hungry women and non-binary genders wielding bills of rights, credentials and calls, and scales of justice?).
And so, what are some strategies to counter what lies in wait in bushes around us? Perhaps we can learn from one another what traps, protections, alternatives, even welcomes (the possibility of only “rabbits” again) we can use in both our Catholic and catholic worlds. I offer a simple one to start.
In a recent NYT “Letter to the Editor” a reader described her way of coping with what she saw as living in a world created by an oppressive former commander in chief. She called up the most conservative person she knew and asked, “What am I missing?” The result:
“Two years and umpteen Zooms later, our conversations have expanded to include two evangelical right-wing Christians, a conservative Catholic, a Quaker, three progressives, a moderate, and a high school junior, ranging in age from 16 to 79. It’s been hard work. But we have learned a few things. First, no matter what the issue, we ask one another what can we say ‘Yes’ to with this other point of view? Second, we identify our objections and explore them. What is fascinating is that we often misunderstand one another’s intent. So we keep asking for clarification. Then we listen. People just want to be heard, seen, and recognized. If we can do that, we have a chance at saving this beautiful experiment in democracy. Hard? Yes! But oh so worth it.”
I saw three especially important strategies addressed in this letter.
One, the people in the group have been talking and listening for over two years. Time and patience are critical to address the complexity and magnitude of some of the threats in our world (and, of course, in our Church), and both are in significantly scant supply. Persistence is such a frustrating word, but even if so, I think we must resign ourselves to being frustrated. I believe what the writer says about it’s all being worth it.
Second, they did not limit themselves to talking within pods or bubbles or silos. They assembled a group with a wide range of divergent backgrounds, experiences, and ages. How rich and stimulating that must have been. I have been participating in synodal groups as maybe you have, but they have all been made up of people like me: roughly my age, my economic background, my educational level, my progressive attitudes. What we have come up with has been wonderful – to me and mine – but I haven’t felt as challenged or as challenging as I would have liked. And that’s my bad; I haven’t searched widely or deeply enough for alternatives. Of course, I do like my views affirmed and confirmed (Who doesn’t?), but is this what we want a synodal Church to be? Or do we want to learn and grow in knowledge and wisdom, in civility and peacemaking, not to mention love? That is the process that makes it “oh, so worth it”.
Here is one more danger, I would say lurking in the bushes behind – of all things – the synodal charge itself, and it reinforces the need for the kind of diverse interactions mentioned above. This is from the April issue of America. Kenneth Woodward is asking a question of Rev. Joseph Komonchak, renown ecclesiologist, and expert in the legacy of Vatican II:
"Pope Francis has said this synodal process is not a democracy, this is not vox populi. He wants to listen for the will of the Holy Spirit in these things. I remember covering two conferences once in the same week. One was a woman-church meeting in Canada, with liturgies for the onset of menopause and after an abortion, etc. The other was a Pentecostal group, Women Aglow. You could not find two more different groups; they both invoked the Holy Spirit, but the Holy Spirit gave two totally different responses. So I don’t know of a pedagogy by which a group can discern the will of the Holy Spirit—do you?"
Fr. Komonchak answers: “I think rather often the Holy Spirit is invoked as an excuse for a lack of reasons for, or a refusal to provide reasons for your position.” I think this is the third strategy that comes forth from the Letter to the Editor, too. No one can claim he or she has the absolute truth (sorry, Catholic hierarchy and demagogues everywhere – well, no, I’m not sorry), and it is stifling, limiting, and dangerous if they believe they do. The critical gifts we all possess and can put to great use in this process are our human ability to reason, our wisdom, and a liberal – and liberating – dose of humility. The results could be so worth it.
One Response
I can hear your voice, Ellie. Nice rhetoric of threes used in your essay, and the second last sentence provides three gifts. I love threes: the universal number and the satisfying rhythm of points in any argument or point one tries to make.