confession

Podcast: Zero elite press coverage of 'heresy' accusations against an American cardinal?

Podcast: Zero elite press coverage of 'heresy' accusations against an American cardinal?

The question at the heart of this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in) was not whether Springfield (Ill.) Bishop Thomas Paprocki was on target with his First Things essay that all but accused San Diego Cardinal Robert McElroy of heresy.

The question was not whether Cardinal Jean-Claude Hollerich of Luxembourg — a strategic leader in the Vatican’s Synod on Synodality — was right when he said the church's teaching on homosexuality are “no longer correct,” and added, “I think it is time for a fundamental revision of the doctrine."

The question was not whether Chicago Cardinal Blase Cupich was correct when he suggested, in print, that priests should absolve Catholics who come to Confession, allowing them to receive Holy Communion, even if these individuals refuse to repent of behaviors that Catholic doctrine insists are sin.

The question was not what Pope Francis meant when he told bishops in the Congo, “Always. Always forgive in the Sacrament of Reconciliation” — even if there is confusion about whether penitents are repenting of their sins or not.

No, the journalism question discussed during this podcast was this: Why are these developments — especially that stunning “Imagining a Heretical Cardinal” essay by Paprocki — receiving (as of this morning) zero coverage in the mainstream press?

By the way, it’s important that Bishop Paprocki is the chairman-elect of the Canonical Affairs and Church Governance Committee of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.

It may also be relevant that, in 2017, Paprocki and McElroy clashed — in print — over the Springfield bishop’s decision not to allow Catholics to receive Holy Communion if they are openly living in same-sex marriages and, thus, rejecting centuries of Catholic doctrines on marriage and sex.

Why the lack of coverage? I have several theories.


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New podcast: Baptisms are in the headlines, at the moment, for better and for worse

New podcast: Baptisms are in the headlines, at the moment, for better and for worse

Believe it or not, baptism is in the news.

In this case, we have some good news and some bad news.

What do you want to hear first, the good news or the bad news? In this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in) we went with the good news first.

When I say “good news,” I am referring to a New York Times story that is kind of fun and contains tons of good information. However, this is a story that takes a trend in some of those giant, modernized evangelical megachurches and tries to turn it into a Big Idea piece. Hold that thought.

The headline: “Horse Troughs, Hot Tubs and Hashtags: Baptism Is Getting Wild.” Here is a big block of the thesis material:

Performing the age-old Christian ritual in a more informal style “conveys this isn’t your grandmother’s church,” said Drake Osborn, pastor of teaching and liturgy at Grace Church in Waco, Texas. His congregation moved into a former bowling alley in 2016 but never considered installing a built-in baptistery. Instead, Grace Church uses a foam model bought online for about $2,500.

The shift has taken place as many pre-21st-century symbols of church life have fallen out of fashion in evangelical culture, especially among churches that are expanding or building new facilities. Sanctuaries are now “worship centers,” and steeples and stained glass are out. Natural light is often eschewed in favor of a black-box theater aesthetic optimized for flashy audiovisual experiences and online streaming.

It is not just the architecture that is changing. Contemporary evangelical baptisms are often raucous affairs. Instead of subdued hymns and murmurs, think roaring modern worship music, fist pumps, tears and boisterous cheering. There are photographers, selfie stations and hashtags for social media. One church in Texas calls its regular mass baptism event a “plunge party.”

Well now. It may be true that “evangelical baptisms” are getting a little bit “raucous,” but that’s a rather strange statement to make in light of baptism traditions down the years in Black evangelical and Pentecostal churches.


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Complex doctrinal story or mere politics? Hmmm ... What shaped news about U.S. bishops?

Complex doctrinal story or mere politics? Hmmm ... What shaped news about U.S. bishops?

Let’s face it. This Baltimore meeting of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops was a classic example of what kind of stories drive front-page news in the mainstream press.

For starters, you had a complicated story about a doctrinal, moral and institutional crisis in Roman Catholicism today — the collapse of Catholic beliefs and practice related to sin, confession, forgiveness and Holy Communion.

Then you had a political story that, for journalists, pitted the satanic hordes of conservative bishops linked, somehow, to Donald Trump against the wise, progressive, nuanced shepherds who sympathize with ordinary Catholics like President Joe Biden.

Guess which story framed most of the coverage? Consider this headline from the journalistic college of cardinals at The New York Times: Catholic Bishops Avoid Confrontation With Biden Over Communion.” And here’s the overture:

BALTIMORE — The Roman Catholic bishops of the United States backed away from a direct conflict with President Biden …, approving a new document on the sacrament of the eucharist that does not mention the president or any politicians by name.

At issue was the question of which Catholics, under which circumstances, are properly able to receive communion, one of the most sacred rites within Christianity. For some conservative Catholics, the real question was more pointed: Should Catholic politicians who publicly support and advance abortion rights be denied the sacrament?

For some of the most outspoken critics of Mr. Biden and other liberal Catholic leaders, the document represented a strategic retreat.

OK, here is a blunt question about that last statement: Is there any evidence that ANY DRAFT of this document — "The Mystery of the Eucharist in the Life of the Church" (.pdf here) — included a single reference to Biden, the White House or the presidency? If conservatives drove the process that led to this document, as assumed in the news coverage, isn’t it logical that references of this kind would have made it into digital ink at some point?


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New podcast: Left, right, middle? Two giant U.S. seminaries are pro-vaccine, but anti-mandate

New podcast: Left, right, middle? Two giant U.S. seminaries are pro-vaccine, but anti-mandate

Let’s do a COVID-19 religion-news flashback, looking at a storyline or two near the start of the pandemic.

I’m doing this in order to analyze how the press is framing a major new development — the federal-court lawsuit filed by Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and Asbury Seminary challenging the Biden administration’s vaccine mandate. These are, by the way, two of the largest seminaries in the United States and, while other seminaries are collapsing, these two are growing.

Coverage of this lawsuit was the hook for this week’s “Crossroads” podcast. (CLICK HERE to tune that in.)

So now the flashback. Remember when I was writing — at GetReligion and in my national “On Religion” column for the Universal syndicate — about the vast majority of American religious groups who were caught in the middle of the “shelter in place” and lockdown wars linked to COVID-19?

Remember the Catholic priests in Texas who were trying to hear confessions out in the open air (in a big field and parking lot), while following guidelines for social distancing? Or how about the churches that were under attack for holding services in drive-in movie theaters, with the faithful in cars, while it was OK for folks to be in parking-lot scrums at liquor stores and big box super-marts? Then you had the whole casinos are “essential services” while religious congregations were not “essential.”

I argued, at that time, that this was way more complicated than religious people who cooperated with the government and those who didn’t. This was not a simple left vs. right, good vs. bad situation. In fact, there were at least FIVE different groups to cover in these newsy debates:

They are (1) the 99% of religious leaders who cooperated and took worship online, (2) some religious leaders who (think drive-in worship or drive-thru confessions) who tried to create activities that followed social-distancing standards, (3) a few preachers who rebelled, period, (4) lots of government leaders who established logical laws and tried to be consistent with sacred and secular activities and (5) some politicians who seemed to think drive-in religious events were more dangerous than their secular counterparts.

That’s complicated stuff.

The problem is that, in the world of American politics, things have to be crushed down into left and right templates or even, there for a few years, into pro-Donald Trump and the anti-Donald Trump. I’m sure we’re past that last part. Right?


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New podcast: What are the future news hooks as U.S. bishops wrestle with Holy Communion?

New podcast: What are the future news hooks as U.S. bishops wrestle with Holy Communion?

Let’s say that, at some point in the future, multimedia crews manage to discover where President Joe Biden was attending Mass on a given Sunday.

As the president attempts to leave, journalists shout an obvious question, something like: "Mr. President! The U.S. bishops are almost done with the final draft of their document on abortion, politics and Holy Communion. Are you concerned about this?”

Recently, Biden responded to a similar question by saying: "That's a private matter and I don't think that's going to happen."

This kind of language, that specific doctrinal issues are “personal” or “private,” has been part of American Catholic code ever since the famous 1984 address at the University of Notre Dame by the late New York Gov. Mario Cuomo. But let’s say — as I suggested in this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in) — that Biden decides to tweek this reply at some point in the future.

What would happen if he said this: “That’s between me and my father confessor, so I will have no response at this time.”

This response would have several implications. First of all, it would mean that Biden is saying that he (a) has a father confessor, (b) that he has gone to confession, (c) that he has confessed his sins, (d) that his confessor has assigned him some for of penance and (e) absolved him of his sins. That last part, of course, could be assumed if Biden is receiving Holy Communion.

Oh, and there’s one implication here: That this is happening with a blessing, to one degree or another, from the bishop in authority over Biden’s father confessor. Ah, there is the main news hook.

The bishop and the priest would not, of course, discuss the contents of the president’s confessions. The bishop, however, could say that Biden’s ongoing actions clashing with church doctrines — linked to abortion, same-sex marriage, trans advocacy or some other issue — require the denial of Holy Communion since these actions are, under Catholic doctrines, a threat to the president’s eternal soul.

After all, as the journalists (and canon lawyers) at The Pillar recently noted:


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Coronavirus pandemic provided an 'acid test' for financial issues in Catholic parishes

Coronavirus pandemic provided an 'acid test' for financial issues in Catholic parishes

Catholic leaders often whisper about "Christmas and Easter Catholics," as in people whose names are found on parish membership rolls but it's rare to see them in pews -- except during crowded Christmas and Easter rites.

Thus, any study of the COVID-19 pandemic's financial impact on America's nearly 17,000 parishes had to start with the early lockdowns that turned Easter 2020 into a virtual event, with millions of Catholics stuck at home, along with their wallets and checkbooks.

Journalists at The Pillar, an independent Catholic website, collected online materials from 100 parishes in 10 strategic church provinces and found that total offerings were 12% lower in 2020 than the previous year. It was clear when the crisis became real.

Data researcher Brendan Hodge noted donations at Christmas -- "perhaps in combination with secular notions both of making donations before the end of the tax year and of making resolutions for better tithing in the new calendar year" -- and then Easter.

"But in 2020 the normal Easter surge in giving was reversed: the very lowest weeks of tithing came during the Lent and Easter weeks when nearly all U.S. parishes were closed," he noted, in the first of two investigative reports.

After the Easter collapse tithes and offerings seemed to find a new "normal," with a consistent pattern of giving that mirrored 2019 numbers -- only about 12% lower. Clearly, many faithful Catholics stayed the course, offering their usual financial support while taking part in online services and whatever in-person rites could be held under social-distancing regulations.

This raised an old issue: Why are some Catholics -- in good times and bad -- more loyal than others? This question is part of a pattern religious leaders have seen for decades, with about 80% of the work and support in most congregations coming from 20% of their members.


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New podcast: There's more to Lent 2021 than virtual-ash selfies and giving up (fill in the blank)

New podcast: There's more to Lent 2021 than virtual-ash selfies and giving up (fill in the blank)

It happened every year that I worked in a mainstream newsroom. Apparently, there was a law somewhere that official newsroom “advance calendars” should include a note about the beginning of Lent.

Thus, an editor would ask me a question that sounded something like this: “So where are we sending a photographer this year on Ash Wednesday?”

This was, you see, the official way to handle Lent and it would be followed, of course, by some kind of sunrise-and-lilies photo when Easter rolled around. There might be an Easter story of some kind, but that was always a problem since the goal was to have the story in print on that Sunday, which meant the story and photograph needed to be done early. It’s so hard to cover a holy day that hasn’t happened yet.

But Ash Wednesday photographs, backed with a sentence of two about Lent, seem to be a news-culture tradition. That reality was the hook — sort of — for this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in).

Thus, it was easy to anticipate this COVID-19 era variation on a familiar theme, care of Religion News Service: “Celebrating Ash Wednesday in a pandemic? There’s an app for that.

There are filters that blur “imperfections” in photos and filters that turn lawyers into cats on Zoom.

Now there are filters to help Christians safely display the very visible Ash Wednesday mark on social media.

Many Catholic and other liturgical churches observe Ash Wednesday by smudging ashes on congregants’ foreheads as a sign of repentance and a reminder of one’s mortality. That practice presents a problem during a season when health experts fighting COVID-19 have advised people to avoid touching their faces or coming in close proximity to others. …

In a year when so much of life has been lived virtually, Catholic prayer and meditation app Hallow has also taken the tradition online with an “AshTag” photo filter on both Facebook and Instagram.

That’s a valid story, even if it does fit a now familiar pandemic pattern — lots of coverage of virtual faith in these troubled times, as opposed to a few stories about the creative efforts of analog people to observe their traditions within the parameters of social-distancing guidelines.


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New podcast: Why is the 'handmaid' image so important in Amy Coney Barrett coverage?

The question for the week appears to be: Are you now, or have you ever been, a charismatic Catholic?

In a land in which citizens are divided just as much by entertainment as they are by their religious and political choices, that question leads directly to cable television and a certain blue-zip-code hit focusing on, to quote IMDB, this story hook: “Set in a dystopian future, a woman is forced to live as a concubine under a fundamentalist theocratic dictatorship.”

This leads us to the word “handmaid” and strained efforts by some — repeat “some” — journalists to attach it to the life and faith of Judge Amy Coney Barrett. This topic was, of course, discussed at length during this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in). How could we avoid it?

It’s crucial to know that the word “handmaid” has radically different meanings for members of two radically different flocks of Americans.

For Catholics and other traditional Christians, this term is defined by its use in the first chapter of the Gospel of Luke, during this encounter between Mary and the Angel Gabriel. This is long, but essential:

… The angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David: And he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end.

Then said Mary unto the angel, How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?

And the angel answered and said unto her, The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. …For with God nothing shall be impossible.

And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her.

In this context, the word refers to a “female servant.” However, its use in Christian tradition has, for 2,000 years, been linked directly to St. Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Now, let’s move to mass media, where the Urban Dictionary defines the term as:


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100 years of all kinds of Catholics -- good and bad -- going to confession in movies

100 years of all kinds of Catholics -- good and bad -- going to confession in movies

Alfred Hitchcock knew a thing or two about complicated thrillers.

Having a murderer confess to a priest -- who couldn't betray this trust -- was already a familiar plot twist by 1953, when Hitchcock released "I Confess." Because of the seal of confession, this noble priest couldn't even clear his own name when police suspected that he was the killer.

Good prevails in the end. Shot by police, the killer makes an urgent final confession to the priest.

"It's natural for a Catholic filmmaker like Hitchcock to see the dramatic potential of confession, with its combination of mystery and holiness," said film critic Steven D. Greydanus, best known for his work for the National Catholic Register. "At the same time, Hitchcock thought 'I Confess' was a mistake, because he thought that his mostly Protestant audience in America just wouldn't get it."

The sacrament of confession is both sacred and secret -- facts known to Medieval playwrights as well as modern filmmakers. Thus, putting a confession rite on a movie screen is a "transgressive act" of the highest kind, said Greydanus, who serves as a permanent deacon in the Diocese of Newark, N.J. (Deacons do not hear confessions.)

"Voyeurism is an important theme in much of Hitchcock's work and he knew that using confession in this way was a kind of voyeurism. … He knew this was a kind of taboo."

Nevertheless, Hollywood scribes have frequently used confession and penance for everything from cheap laughs ("A League of Their Own"), to shattering guilt (Godfather III), to near-miraculous transformations ("The Mission"). In a recent 6,000-word essay -- "In Search of True Confession in the Movies" -- Greydanus covered a century of cinema, while admitting that he had to omit dozens of movies that included confession scenes.

The key is that filmmakers struggle to capture, in words and images, what is happening in a person's heart. The act of confession opens a window into the soul, since characters are forced to put their sins and struggles into words.

"Perhaps the very secrecy surrounding the sacrament of confession was part of what attracted filmmakers to depict it," wrote Greydanus. "Anyone can witness the Eucharistic liturgy, an ordination or a wedding. …

“But what transpires in confession can only be imagined -- which is the cinema's stock in trade. … Often enough, confession scenes have served in movies as a pretext to allow a character to articulate their spiritual or temporal struggles, whether or not any kind of sin is involved."


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