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.

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Every Lent, I indulge myself by watching my favorite musical, “Jesus Christ Superstar“, that great rock-opera written by Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber way back in 1969.

This year, I was fortunate enough to see it live on stage on Palm Sunday, on its “farewell tour” with Ted Neeley as Jesus. He starred in the 1973 movie version, and at least one of the other stage productions I’ve seen. Even with makeup, he looked pretty long in the tooth for Jesus — and no wonder, since he’s been playing the role longer than the rest of the cast has been alive – not quite so nimble as he used to be, but he could still hit the high notes when the time came. And he certainly has the proper Messianic attitude down pat by now. What the show lacked in Broadway production values, it more than made up with audience affection. People truly love him — he’s had a great run, and I wish him well.

Anyway, I’ve seen more productions than I can count, from the hippie movie to evangelical to a Euro-gothic version with Nazi-like Romans, but this was the first full-blown gnostic production I’ve come across.

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Ever since annual Confession and Holy Communion was made obligatory on all Catholics in 1216, sinners of all stripes have willingly or otherwise dutifully lined up in front of the booths in a yearly ritual to tell the man inside their evil doings.

Penitents are supposed to make an critical and unsparing self-examination of all their sins since the last go around, and try to work up some genuine sorrow. And of course, they are to do afterwards whatever their confessor tells them to do as penance and sin no more… or at least, not until they’ve taken Holy Communion. Otherwise, they’ll be worse off than before.

It’s generally a drag, a spiritual chore like going to the dentist, only even more humiliating than when the assistant asks why you haven’t been flossing.

Well, cheer up, sinners! I’ve been doing quite a bit of research on the Sacrament of Reconciliation. I’m happy to tell you there are a number of absolutely legal shortcuts you can use to make it less of a burden. Yes, with the magic of Roman Catholicism, you too can enjoy both this world AND the next!

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There’s an elephant quietly sitting in the nave that everyone on all sides of the clergy sex abuse crisis have been diligently ignoring, even the victims themselves. No clergy or even would-be reformers have really remarked on it yet, although it should be more obvious with each and every sad story. More importantly, it is a troubling issue that touches on the very heart and soul of Catholicism.

The monstrous truth is simply this: what the clergy sex abuse crisis clearly demonstrates is that the sacramental system has failed.

This is not just a case of hierarchical reneging of responsibility. There’s more to this than some bad apples. This is nothing that a few reforms can fix, some screening of seminarians or more pastoral responses by bishops. It is nothing less than a fundamental challenge to the entire Catholic Church, and it shows that the spiritual principles the whole structure is supposedly based on simply do not work.

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