Getting Right with the Pope
by James T. Fisher
The green room at MSNBC’s midtown Manhattan studio
was jammed and the atmosphere was electric on the evening of Friday, April
1. Pope John Paul II was dying and the cell phones of every professional
Catholic in the metropolitan area were chiming non-stop.
A TV
neophyte made eligible solely by virtue of job description, I found myself
sharing cramped quarters at MSNBC with the charismatic young Jesuit James
Martin of America magazine and the garrulous, impassioned William A.
Donohue, president of the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights,
who had just completed a live segment with host Joe Scarborough.
While
Martin and Donohue swapped TV war stories, I glanced up at the MSNBC monitor
dangling from the ceiling of the green room. Papal biographer Carl Bernstein
was lauding Pope John Paul II (“a priest,” he reminded viewers) as the most
important global figure of the past quarter century. From somewhere out in
the remote studio night, Pat Buchanan then weighed in on John Paul II’s role
in promoting the values of Western civilization.
With the “culture wars”
now back in play, it was no surprise when a producer ducked into the green
room to call Donohue back for an encore. “The culture war has been ongoing
for a long time,” he had told Scarborough during a December 2004 telecast.
“Their side [represented by Hollywood and anti--Catholic elites] has lost.”
Now that the pope who had provided so much inspiration to traditionalist
Catholics was nearing death, Donohue paid moving tribute to him, reiterating
Bernstein’s theme that the pontiff was, above all, a priest in the service
of the Lord.
But
Donohue also previewed a theme highlighted in the Catholic League’s press
release that marked the pope’s death on the following day: “In a world where
moral relativism runs rampant, and the lies of postmodernist thought are
trumpeted, nothing could be more countercultural than the pope’s speeches
and writings on the existence of an objective moral order.”
Themes
from the culture wars resonated throughout the American media’s coverage of
the pope’s death and would only intensify following the elevation of
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger to Pope Benedict XVI. While it’s an oft-reported
truism that American Catholics are deeply divided over both cultural and
doctrinal issues, the coverage revealed just how far the ground under the
church has shifted since John Paul II ascended to the papacy in 1978.
The
Catholic commentariat was then situated primarily in the better-known
Catholic universities and in the small cohort of liberal-leaning
publications such as America and Commonweal. These same
precincts were certainly represented this time around, especially in the
early going when “calling all Catholics” was the cry of television news
producers with a bottomless pit of segments to fill.
The most
conspicuous and impassioned expert commentary, however, tended to emanate
from now-mainstream Catholic sources that were either non-existent or
peripheral a quarter-century ago. While every school child knows that there
were no 24-hour cable news channels in 1978, it’s easy to forget that though
there was a Catholic League by then (it had been founded five years earlier
by a Milwaukee Jesuit), hardly anyone had heard of it before 1993, when Bill
Donohue took over. Donohue saturated the airwaves during the first three
weeks in April 2005.
Nor, in
1978, was there a First Things, the highly influential Catholic
monthly vigorously edited by Father Richard John Neuhaus, a former Lutheran
pastor and left-wing activist turned neo-conservative who converted to
Catholicism a year after launching the magazine in 1989. During and after
the conclave, Neuhaus was a fixture on the Eternal Word Television Network’s
live, on-site coverage from Rome.
Founded
by the feisty, combatively traditionalist Mother Angelica in 1981, EWTN is
now the cornerstone of a global media empire, beamed or cabled into 104
million homes worldwide. As part of its Vatican coverage, the network
replayed an exclusive interview that reporter Raymond Arroyo conducted with
Cardinal Ratzinger in 2003. In due course, Neuhaus shared personal
reminiscences of his friends, Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI.
Joseph
Fessio—Jesuit priest, provost of Ave Maria University in Naples, Florida,
and former student of the new pontiff—was in such demand by the cable
networks on April 19 that Ave Maria’s news outlet reported: “He is so
popular this day that you’d think he was the one named pope.”
The
university, founded in 1998 by the
Michigan
pizza mogul Tom Monaghan, is the most ambitious of the “off-brand schools”
where, wrote John Paul II’s neo-conservative biographer George Weigel in
2003, “critically engaged yet thoroughly Catholic intellectual life” is
“flourishing.” Fessio, formerly of the Jesuit-sponsored University of San
Francisco, believes that “many Catholic institutions…have ceased to be
places where the fullness of Catholic truth is joyfully and vigorously
taught, defended and proclaimed.”
“I want
people to know what a saint we have” in Benedict XVI, declared Fessio
between interviews on Fox News and CNN. “He’s good, good.”
The same
euphoric message was conveyed by “Fox News contributor” Father Jonathan
Morris of the ultra-traditional Legionaries of Christ, a formerly obscure
priestly order which, like the lay institute Opus Dei, found greater favor
in Rome during the papacy of John Paul II. Bridget Johnson, Los Angeles
Daily News columnist and proprietress of the blog “GOP Vixen,” cooed
that Morris was an “extremely photogenic young priest” who had “come to rule
the microphone,” and called him the Vatican commentator “most likely to
start a media career after this month.”
This
emergent cohort of Catholic neo-traditionalists (most of whom prefer to be
known simply for their loyalty to the magisterium, the church’s
teaching authority) hardly represents a “vast right-wing conspiracy,”
Catholic-style. Like any protean cultural movement, it is marked by
internecine rivalries and varied priorities, but it was striking how readily
members of this camp occupied the church’s vital center in the electronic
media’s coverage of the Vatican conclave.
Ratzinger's election naturally enhanced the stature of individuals and
groups enjoying close connections with His (new) Holiness. Had the College
of Cardinals elevated a cardinal from, say, Latin America, the media focus
might well have shifted to alternate sources of expertise. Yet, as we now
know, that was simply not to be, and the clout of the conservative bloc
among the cardinals was reflected in the assemblage of Vatican experts whose
stock had steadily risen over the past quarter century. The conclave was the
capstone on their long ascent to power.
There was
a brief flurry of dissenting opinion reported in the immediate aftermath of
the election result, though it was more prevalent in the pages of the New
York Times than over the TV networks. On April 20, Scott Appleby of
Notre Dame, a leading historian of American Catholicism, told the Times
that “many Catholics were dismayed, stunned and depressed at the
selection of Cardinal Ratzinger.” Paul Lakeland, a professor of religious
studies at Fairfield University, was quoted in the same article to the
effect that the “election of a new pope is a moment of hope for the church,
and this choice is nothing but backwards looking.”
Appleby
and Lakeland are figures from the liberal Catholic mainstream whose comments
reflected the grave concerns of many American theologians that Pope Benedict
XVI would continue or even accelerate policies he had instituted as head of
the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith. As the liberal weekly
National Catholic Reporter (NCR) editorialized in its April 29
edition, “The landscape of the contemporary church is littered with the
ruined careers and the smeared names of dozens of theologians and other
thinkers and ministers—some of them among the most formidable theological
minds of the last century—who fell into disfavor with Ratzinger.”
These
dissenting voices were understandably muted in the days following the
election of Benedict XVI. As Scott Appleby explained, “some appropriate
deference” was due a world religious figure as opposed to “a candidate for
political office.” Journalist David Gibson raised the specter of
anti-Catholicism: “If the media is perceived as being too critical,” he told
the Times on April 23, “it could raise echoes of anti-Catholicism,
which is something that many people who are still alive remember as all too
real.”
At the
same time, NCR Vatican correspondent John Allen, doubling as a
ubiquitous CNN commentator, argued that it would “be difficult after this
experience to assert that the secular media, in any systematic way, is
‘anti-Catholic.’” The lavish, non-stop, and extremely warm-hearted coverage
in fact confirmed an observation first made by historian R. Laurence Moore
in 1986 in Religious Outsiders and the Making of Americans. “Virulent
anti-Catholicism was a weaker force in American life than Catholicism.” Or,
as the comedian Lenny Bruce once put it: “There’s only one ‘the Church,’”
and it’s the Roman one.
The
blanket coverage also con-firmed—if often subtly—that conflicts within
the church remain more significant than those pitting the church against the
broader culture. A close look at the experience of John Allen offers a case
in point.
Allen’s
tireless work for CNN and NCR was extraordinarily fine by any
measure: He captured the drama of the moment, conveyed its deep
spirituality, and also explored the inner workings of the College of
Cardinals by drawing on his vast network of contacts in the Eternal City.
Allen confessed in his NCR “Word from Rome” online column that he
“did not predict” Ratzinger’s election—though he did report on the sudden
surge of support for him within the College of Cardinals in the days
immediately preceding the conclave. This was a point of interest due to his
fairly lengthy history with the new pope, including as the author of the
1999 biography, Cardinal Ratzinger: The Vatican’s Enforcer of the Faith.
By the
summer of 2004 Allen had grown convinced (aided by the inter-cession of a
liberal American theologian, Joseph Komonchak) that the book was “too often
written in a ‘good guys and bad guys’ style that vilifies the cardinal.” He
was, he reported in the online NCR, completing a new book on the pope
“which I hope will be a more balanced and mature account of both Ratzinger’s
views and the politics that made him pope.” This self-critical
reappraisal is telling.
In the
1990s, it often seemed to me—a non-theologian working in a theology
department at a Midwestern Jesuit university—that the name “Ratzinger” was
invoked as a synonym for the chilling forces of reaction against legitimate
theological innovation. One explanation for this visceral suspicion was that
many of the theologians targeted by the Congregation of the Doctrine of the
Faith since the 1980s were arguably not dissidents at all but authentic
scholars and loyal Catholics engaged in prayerful search for the wisdom of
the church’s traditions.
Many
outside of the theological community (and some within it) would disagree
with this assessment. The NCR, probably the most conspicuous champion
of the embattled theologians, itself became a prime target of cultural
warriors on the right. John Allen will surely speak only for himself in his
forthcoming book on the new pope, but his promised shift in tone may reflect
a broader rightward move by Catholic progressives weary of the destruction
wrought by the culture wars. They may also be weary of losing.
At the
same time, there are real issues facing the church that will not soon go
away. Ratzinger’s homily on the “dictatorship of relativism” delivered at
the papal funeral was widely spun as a critique of self-centered American
Catholics and their hedonistic morality. Much of the television coverage of
this issue revealed a kind of reverse generation gap, with some older
Catholics asking why, for example, birth control remains proscribed, only to
be set straight by younger “orthodox” theologians.
The most
pointed such exchange took place on Chris Matthews’ April 19 Hardball
program on MSNBC. A guest on the program, Msgr. James Moroney of the United
States Conference of Catholic Bishops, linked the new pope’s critique of
“this tyranny of relativism” to the idea “in this country—and in this world
today…that we can negotiate any truth into oblivion.”
When
Moroney went on to assert that the church “needs to look clearly at what the
core truths and the core beliefs are and preach them unambiguously,” another
guest, prominent Washington attorney Robert Bennett, responded: “I think
what bothers a lot of American Catholics is that a lot of the strict rules
have nothing to do with core truths. It’s not a core truth that a woman
cannot be a priest. It is not a core truth that a married man cannot be a
priest.”
Matthews
and Moroney then launched into a spirited, if brief, debate over the
Christian merits of “artificial” contraception versus “natural” family
planning—the one method, explained the monsignor, endorsed by the church.
(“You mean thermal?” asked an incredulous Matthews, like Moroney a graduate
of the College of the Holy Cross.)
Birth
control came up repeatedly during the coverage of the papal succession,
despite the fact that for the clear majority of Catholics worldwide the
issue has long been resolved as a matter of conscience. A much more
important question was rarely addressed: How will the church continue to
present itself in communion with the world and with other religious
traditions? As the New York Times bluntly reported on April 20, “Pope
Benedict’s well-known stands include the assertion that Catholicism is
‘true’ and other religions are ‘deficient;’ that the modern, secular world,
especially in Europe, is spiritually weak; and that Catholicism is in
competition with Islam.”
These
views are grounded both in declarations of the Congregation for the Doctrine
of Faith like Dominus Iesus (2000) and in the new Pope’s earlier
political musings, including his remark that Turkey’s Islamic majority
stands in “permanent contrast to Europe,” thereby rendering the country
unfit for inclusion in the European Union.
That the
Holy Spirit operates in a realm not bound by politics or ideology is
suggested by the history of efforts to predict the course of previous
papacies.
At
the same time, it would be hard to miss the deep affinities between the new
pope and those American Catholic neo-traditionalists who now enjoy full
citizenship in the global media village. Like
many of them, Pope Benedict’s youthful liberalism was “mugged” by the
violent spirit that erupted during the student demonstrations of 1968 and
environs.
More
importantly, he came to believe that the reforms of the Second Vatican
Council—which he initially embraced—were themselves in need of reform. As
John Allen wrote in NCR in 2002, there were major “discontinuities
between the conciliar and the curial Ratzinger” across a wide range of
issues. “It seems legitimate to ask Ratzinger,” concluded Allen, “if on
certain points Vatican II and the reforming energies it unleashed were
simply wrong.” If so, “the interesting question becomes how to make
theological sense of a council that erred in such important ways.”
While it
might be unseemly to pose the question to a new pope just now, journalists
and broadcasters would do well to pursue this line of inquiry with some of
those American Catholics who figured so prominently in the coverage of the
conclave, at least for as long as the Documents of the Second Vatican
Council stand official. One commentator whose voice will be missed in the
conversation is Thomas J. Reese, S.J., former editor of America and
widely respected authority on the church. Father Reese, the New York
Times reported on May 7, resigned his position the previous day “under
orders from the Vatican” because “he had published articles critical of
church positions.”
Father
Neuhaus of First Things informed the Times that America
“apparent-ly saw itself” as “the loyal opposition” to the pontificate of
John Paul II. Since the Jesuit weekly has articulated no such position, this
would seem to mean that America’s commitment to dialogue—in the clear
spirit of Vatican II—is now viewed as in itself a mark of “opposition” to
the authority of the church. From this perspective, pluralism is equated
with the “dictatorship of relativism” that Cardinal Ratzinger excoriated in
his homily at the funeral of John Paul II.
A more
hopeful vision of pluralism was on display during a remarkable edition of
Meet the Press aired April 24 on NBC at the end of an historic week. Host
Tim Russert noted that at the opening of the
Council in October 1962, Pope John XXIII declared that the church “meets the
needs of the present day by demonstrating the validity of her teaching
rather than by condemnations.”
Russert
pressed his guests—who ranged from Father Fessio and Rev. Thomas Bolin, U.S.
Vicar of Opus Dei, to author Thomas Cahill and Washington Post
columnist E. J. Dionne—to discuss the future of the church in the light of
history and theology rather than culture war polemics. The result was a
model of genuine dialogue and constructive debate.
A guest on the program that proved refreshingly resistant to
ideological labeling was Sister Mary Aquin O’Neill, Director of the Mount
Saint Agnes Theological Center for Women. Sister O’Neill acknowledged her
“great concern” over the election of Benedict XVI but added she was
heartened by the discovery that when he was ordained to the priesthood,
Joseph Ratzinger inscribed on his holy card: “We
aim not to lord over your faith but to serve your joy.”
The human
experience of the church changes over time, explained O’Neill (“especially
the experience of women has got to be brought into this church, listened to,
respected”); and she concluded, “We must not talk about the truth as if it
were some kind of package that is fixed and stayed and can be handed on from
one generation to the other without any, anything of ourselves entering into
it.”
O’Neill’s
irenic yet forceful remarks confirmed Russert’s hope that the program would
offer “a very serious attempt” to address the real issues at the heart of
the church today. Since so many of these issues now cross over into the
nation’s culture and politics, as we ask the hard questions we might all
take heart in the exhortation of John Paul II—“Be Not Afraid!”
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