“I am not a Catholic,” I said.
I did not wait to see what he had to
say. I was in a hurry to get the next part out of my mouth. “I
also happen to believe that Jesus of Nazareth was one of the greatest
men who ever lived and that Christians don't understand why he was
great.” I braced myself, ready for the onslaught that would surely
come next. But Father Joe just looked at me and smiled. My words
did not seem to shock him.
Then he started to talk about the stars
and his eyes lit up. He reminded me that it was a Catholic priest
who proposed the big bang. We struggled together to remember the
name. He thought that maybe it was a French priest. Actually, his
name is George Lemaitre, a Belgian. But Father Joe didn't miss a
beat. He pointed at the table as if it were a sandy beach and
reminded me that there were as many stars in the heavens as grains of
sand on all the beaches and deserts in the world. He remarked at how
small the earth had looked to the astronauts. He could not hold back
the glee as we shared our love for cosmology.
I touched on string theory and told him
that I had once attempted to read Einstein but that it was too thick
to get through. He seemed excited to share the wonders of science.
We talked about the “god” particle recently discovered at Cern.
This was not the way it was supposed to go. He was supposed to tell
me I was going to hell.
He deftly shifted the conversation back
to me and the purpose of his curiosity finally revealed itself.
Father Breen had a burning desire to tell a story. He wanted to tell
the story of the typical fallen Catholic. I was not sure why. There
was nothing disingenuous about this man. It occurred to me that my
journey was on a parallel track with his. We both genuinely sought a
better understanding of God, the universe, the meaning of eternity.
Ever since I was a child, I knew deep
down inside that adults lied to me about the most important things.
Santa Claus was a lie. The stork was a whopper. Was Jesus a lie
too? What was it like to be dead forever? Was heaven another lie?
I was just a kid but these things bothered me. And every time I
asked an adult, I was told not to worry about it, that Jesus would
take me to heaven when I died and there was no future in questioning
that. That too, seemed to be an easy lie. So I worked hard at my
faith and swore to myself that Jesus was talking to me. But no
matter how hard I tried, it just seemed like I was only talking,
pretending that he was talking back.
I began to wonder if God would ever
talk to me. I saw that all the great heroes of the Bible were men of
great faith. I was told that if my faith was strong enough, God
would speak to me. I believed that fervently. I believed it
literally. But no matter how hard I prayed, no matter how good I
tried to be, there was never a moment of the direct communication
that I sought. Why would God hide from me?
Most people have no trouble deluding
themselves into believing that God talks to them. It seems dishonest
to me. Mark Twain once said that “faith is believing what you know
ain't so.” If what you believe is not true, then all the faith in
the world is sheer folly. Before you commit to believing in
something, shouldn't you first resolve it's veracity? My value
system has always been hard wired to truth. Faith must come
secondary. Most people have a different hierarchy. They place faith
above truth. Backwards!
So it's little wonder that I am a
fallen Catholic. Much as I love the Catholic Church and the good
that it has done, I am very angry at the leadership within the
Church. The men who pretend to protect the truth are really
undermining it. They charge theologians to seek out the truth, but
when it comes to the public, they clamp down hard on the most salient
details of our past. The evolution of the virgin birth and the
convoluted history of the Bible are testaments to man's inability to
eschew myth. The idea of infallibility is a transparent attempt to
gloss over the obvious problems with Catholic theology. The whole
idea of the Trinity is proof to me that Catholicism is overtly pagan.
Trying to explain away the three in one idea as a mystery exposes a
naked obfuscation. Believers keep coming back to the same dodge.
They believe because they were given the gift of faith.
There's a scene in The Wizard of Oz
that struck me when I was a teenager, watching it for the umpteenth
time. The cowardly lion turns to Dorothy after the scarecrow has
been dismembered by flying monkeys. He declares, “I do believe in
spooks. I do believe in spooks. I do I do I do I do I do believe in
spooks.” To this day, that line swirls around in my head every
time I try to say The Apostles Creed.
Who's faith is based on a lie? Don't
all religions claim to be the one truth? If Christianity is right,
does that mean all the others are destined to hell? If God devised
this test, he is clearly unaware of the cultural pressures placed on
believers in other religions. Can God really be devious and aloof?
But the one thing that keeps me
hovering around church is the radical idea of Jesus. I see Jesus as
a fantastic anomaly. Here is a man who sees clearly how best to
describe morality. But tied up within that irrefutable logic is a
myth that seems horribly flawed. The God who tested Abraham by
telling him to kill his son is arguably sadistic. The idea that all
of us should suffer because Adam ate the forbidden fruit is patently
unfair. God just doesn't pass the smell test when it comes to
fairness. And the idea that God so loved the world that he gave up
his son to be tortured for his own selfish lack of forgiveness is
another damning fact. God ( Or should I say the Christian God?)
does not seem to deserve immortality. He is mean; needlessly and
arbitrarily mean.
So if I am right, what good is
Catholicism? Why should I sit in a restaurant with a Catholic priest
and wish him success in his efforts to win back my soul? The answer
to that question is complicated. My wife is a staunch Catholic and I
worship her. I try to attend Mass with her whenever possible so that
she feels secure in her faith. I do not wish to destroy the one
thing that keeps her going. Catholicism has been her salvation.
Last year she took on a job that was
extremely difficult, working with people who took advantage of her.
She was just not measuring up to their impossibly high standards.
She knew she had to hang on to that job. Our finances were in a
horrible mess and the pressure was enormous. I watched her in the
mornings as we prepared for the day. She would always sit at the end
of the couch and read her bible while I read the paper. One morning
I looked over at her and tears were falling down on the pages of her
precious book. It was the last straw. I urged her to quit the job
and look for employment where she could be appreciated. I could not
stand seeing her hurt so deeply by the insensitive bullies who
exploited her.
Father Breen understood. He did not
try to tell me that my ideas about God were wrong. He grasped at the
positive instead. “So you believe Jesus was right?” he asked.
“He was right about life. He was
wrong about death and God,” I said. Again, I expected Joe to
scold me for judging Jesus. But he passed on the opportunity. He
just nodded. I continued.
I believe that if Christians would
follow the practical teachings of Jesus, the world would be
transformed. But instead of giving up their pursuit of wealth they
call themselves sinners and dismiss the whole idea of peace, love and
truth. It's an easy out and one that most Christians are glad to
abuse.
So the idea that most Christians are
hypocrites permeates my philosophy. Jesus was a radical lefty
peacenik. But conservatives have given him a capitalist makeover.
Father Breen did not seem disturbed by
my declarations. In fact, he admitted that too many people miss the
simple message Jesus was trying to impart. I cannot speak for Father
Breen. I believe that he is far more accepting of other religions
than his paternalistic hierarchy but he is also more conservative
than he wants to admit, at least to me.
So much of what the Catholic Church has
become is a direct result of the competition for souls. It is an
unhealthy kind of salesmanship. That is why I have a visceral
disdain for evangelicals. They prey on our fear of death and the
devil. Their message crowds out the basic kindness and decency of
Jesus.
Father Breen takes a less heavy handed,
far more clever approach. He seems to be saying that everyone is
welcome. He has a kind of big tent philosophy. Is it possible that
Father Breen would give Communion to an atheist? Does he measure
Catholicism by its ability to force conformity? Or is he willing to
accept a more tolerant approach? Can Catholics learn from the
division of Judaism? Should there be Orthodox Catholic, Conservative
Catholic and Reform Catholic?
Why must Catholics exorcize the free
thinkers? If liberals love the message of Jesus, shouldn't their
ideas count? Can faith give way to truth without destroying God?
Wasn't Jesus a radical? Isn't it possible that a freer discourse
could bring about a theological renaissance? Why do conservatives
always manage to grab the reins of power in just about every single
major religion? Isn't their worship of conformity an impediment to
progress? Isn't their desire for distinction anathema to the
teachings of Jesus? Why is it so easy to find articles attacking
liberals in any Catholic publication? Why aren't the opposing
viewpoints given space?
The answers to those questions are the
key to saving Catholicism and Christianity from its abysmal decline.
In fact, maybe my own salvation and that of the arch-typical fallen
Catholic depends upon the reformation of Catholicism itself. Vatican
II was a huge step in the right direction. But the leadership and
their 40 year anti-Vatican backlash must take responsibility for
their disastrous purge. And the fight for a more universal
Catholicism must be joined.
After my meeting with Father Breen, I
had a very strange dream. The Pope was standing at the front door of
the cathedral pushing people away. His staff turned into a machine
gun that he waved menacingly at the crowd. Around the back of the
church, at a side door, Father Breen was sneaking people back into
the church. To some, that is a disturbing nightmare. To me, it is a
very good omen.
Ultimately, the question of my
salvation is a double edged sword. I think, with the help of Father
Breen, I might be saved. But the more important question is this:
Can any truth seeker be saved without first exposing the truth about
Catholicism?
What would Jesus do? Indeed.
