Abandoned Altars

An era is ending in Western Christianity.

For better or for worse, a way of life that began in the deserts of Egypt over seventeen hundred years ago is coming to an end. At least, in its Roman Catholic form. It will mean the end of a legacy that extends from the preservation of literacy itself through the Dark Ages to that most terrible instrument of fanaticism, the Inquisition.

The BBC reports that the number of Roman Catholic religious — that is, monks and nuns, brothers and sisters in both cloistered and mendicant communities — declined by a full 10% in just one year. Worse, the numbers of consecrated women, whose ill-paid efforts actually keep the institution running from day to day, declined by no less than 25% while John Paul II was in office.

That’s not just a decline – that’s a catastrophic crash. The Church is simply bleeding to death in the form of departing members. I’m no math wiz, but just crunching numbers shows that if the Catholic Church loses 10% of its religious per year, then within a mere eight years half will be gone. In a little over two decades, there will be only ten percent left.

Theoretically, it can survive even this, though the priesthood is steadily diminishing, too. But who will staff its schools and hospitals, drum the faith into the young, or devote themselves to unceasing prayer for this sorry planet? Monasticism in all its flavors has been an integral part of Western Civilization; without it, this culture might not have happened. Even if it had, without Francis, Gothic cathedrals, Gregorian Chant, and above all, manuscripts lovingly copied by generations of monkish scribes, it would be a far poorer place.

So adios, Friar Tuck and Brother Cadfael. Goodbye to the Flying Nun and all the real and not-so-real sisters and brothers of popular fiction and literature.

And farewell, too, to all their real-life counterparts, from the Nun of Monza to all those penguins. Some will not be missed — like Sister Domitilla and the other wives of God who tormented so many Catholic schoolkids through the years with harsh discipline applied by rulers and erasers and not a few ear-twisings. Rare indeed are the veterans of parochial schools without any stories of these poor, misused, abused, occasionally murdered, and often more than just a little crazy women.

Rest in peace, Singing Nun and Maria Monk. Though both of you died tragically and reviled by the Church that used and abused you, you have your revenge. Your long-suffering sisters and brothers are voting quietly with their feet to leave their hallowed halls behind.

Soon the cloisters will be truly silent at last.