A funny thing happened the other day. There's a well-known and well-liked lady in our town who has for ages run a restaurant. She recently changed locations (again) and I wanted to get a look at the new spot, so we stopped in for a bite.
Now this is the type of woman who has at least one prominently placed crucifix in her place and gushes over your "babies" (kids). She's the Catholic grandmotherly type, gregarious, enthusiastic, easy to talk to, a great cook. True to form, my younger son, who happens to be austistic and who also happens to have a great sense of direction, starts crying out, "St. Martin's!" which sounds similar to, "St. Mark's," neither of which were very far from us.
Hearing this, the woman says, "Yes, sweetie, St. Mark's. That's my church. It's right up the street." Confused and rarely one to keep my mouth shut when I'm curious, I say, "I thought you belonged to St. Martin's."
"Oh yes, I used to go there. But I sang at a wedding at St. Mark's and just fell in love with it. They're just like Catholic, you know, they even use our same books. They just don't believe in the pope." And on and on about how great a place it is, how wonderful the pastor and his minister wife are, and how she donates food for their dinners and things.
In case you haven't guessed, St. Mark's is an Episcopal church. To be honest, although I don't know her well, this is one of the last people I expected to suddenly leave the Church. But she doesn't see it that way. In fact, I would doubt she has refrained from considering herself to be Catholic, since by her own standards, her beliefs and manner of worship have not changed at all.
Where Everybody Knows Your Name
Listening to her talk about her new community, though, my husband and I realized that what was likely going on was not necessarily conversion to a different Christian denomination in the sense of a change in belief or theology, but conversion to a community. Having been to St. Martin's many times, I can honestly say that there just isn't much going on there. It's a fairly large, impersonal church. The priest turnover has been incredible, not to mention the ongoing uncertainty of the status of any of our town's (and diocese's) churches. Let's face it, when people go to church, that's the one thing they want to be sure ain't goin anywhere! The church is central to their religion, it's the House of God, and in the midst of life's day-to-day craziness, it's reassuring just to walk or drive by. Stability: it's Who God Is and what the Church is supposed to be.
Now if you were to see St. Mark's, you'd notice its small size. I'm unfamiliar with its typical attendance, but physically it's about the size of St. Mary's. And it's not so hard to feel at home and quite a bit easier to get to know people in a small church. Our assessment is that that's what she was looking for. Something clicked for her. She felt welcomed, noticed, valued, at home.
But is it all the Same?
In the midst of this transition, though, probably unbeknownst to her, she has in fact migrated to a group whose beliefs and history are, in fact, different from the Catholic Church. The Anglican/Episcopal church(es) were begun by King Henry VIII in the 16th century and spurred, along with Martin Luther on the European continent, the Protestant rebellion/reformation. Henry wanted to divorce (and murder) his wife/wives and did not want to be beholden to the pope, so he made himself head of his own church. Many Englishmen and women died for their Faith rather than leave the One, True Church. Over the course of time, belief and practice has diverged from Catholic belief, and today the Episcopaleans/Anglicans disagree with one another over many things, not the least of which are the role of women and homosexuals in the priesthood/bishopric. So we are seeing schism among those who orginally schismed from Rome. But that's a subject for a different day.
The Perfect Storm?
My point is this. Right now, in our diocese and elsewhere throughout the country, we have the perfect storm. Perhaps I'm being too dramatic, but I don't think so. Think of it as a simple equation. We have:
(poor knowledge of the Faith)
+
uncertainty about the status of one's church
+
closed church doors that spell for many no hope of ever returning to the Church
+
priests that get switched so frequently you barely have time to know their names
+
changing Mass times
+
already inadequate CCD programs being changed
(location, leadership, etc. Just talked to a mom the other night at my job who is disgusted at the confusion and absurd price she is being charged for CCD)
+
rhetoric eminating from the mouths of Church leaders that bear little semblance to what many of us have been taught
+
forced closure of small churches in favor of large ones
+
churches with decreasing sense of community
(people don't know each other, lack of accountability)
+
all this on the heels of a poorly handled child sexual abuse scandal
+
a general sense of disgust in the pews about bishops shuffling around abusive priests
+
a general sense of disgust about diocesan "leadership"
+
a sense of disempowerment
(I can't begin to count how many times I've heard people say, "But what're ya gonna do? Fight the Church? There's nothing you can do. They always do whatever they want.")
+
a diocesan administration that doesn't seem to care a bit about what the Catholics in the pews really think of all this nonsense and prioritizes money above shepherding of souls
+
a Catholic faithful who, by and large, think (and are told) it makes them "bad Catholics" or "unChristian" if they question what they are being told
+
lack of hope in God and in the good of the Church
+
all this in a largely secular society that treats religion and God as optional, if not with disdain
We're starting to see it already. Church attendance is down most places. But it will be masked significantly with church merger since when a church is closed, those who still elect to go to Mass will appear to be taking up valuable parking places and pew space in the "new" church. Those who leave won't be noticed, particularly in churches where there's already a sense of anonymity.
In Closing
I use one woman's story only as an example. I don't mean to imply that massive amounts of Catholics are going to turn Episcopalean or Lutheran or Calvary Chapel or anything else, for that matter. On the contrary, I think what we're more likely to see is large numbers of formerly practicing Catholics lose what faith they have and stop going to any church, anywhere. It's just a matter of whether or not we're willing to pay attention to what's going on. Can American Catholics hang on through all this or will we lose our religion, too?




















