Monkish monkey-business revisited

This post won’t be all that well-thought-out.  Maybe entertaining in a spot or two, though?

Several times in this space, I have commented critically on the “Kansas Monks”–those associated with Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas.  Although I have a fond feeling for Atchison in general, having spent three important years of my life there and having made some good friends (a few of whom I’ve kept!) I have no fond feelings for monks — these or any other — or what they stand for.

Once, I wrote that I would not write about the “Kansas Monks” ever again on this blog, but I am reneging.  I figure that repeatedly ignored requests that they take me off their fundraising, propagandizing mailing list will be seen to justify at least this one coming-out-of-hiding on my part.

A few months back, I couldn’t resist saving a page out of their most recent magazine.  A sidebar shows pics of six monks (I guess that’s the umbrella term; four are labeled “father,” and another two are called “abbot”), along with blurbs about what each of them does with the internet as part of monkish “ministry.”

1. A monk named Miller has 4,200 Facebook friends.  Bully for him.  That’s sad, because it probably means he’s got a following of college students who’ve crossed his path and had wool pulled over their eyes.
2. One named Senecal “gathers prayer requests” via the monks’ website.  Any specific criticism of this one runs a high risk of my impugning his motives, so I’ll merely confess and move on.
3. The coup?  A monk named Habiger “spreads the news of natural family planning via an e-mail newsletter.”  And what a gospel is that!  And what an (pardon me while I grab my tongue with a forceps and shove it irrevocably into my cheek) amazingly credible witness to a Pope-induced, biblically sound limitation!

In other words, gimmeabreak.  How is a monk going to talk about anything that has to do with sex?  At best, he’s a disingenuous, meddling homiletician with a concocted, a-biblical message he’s passing off, by virtue of his cloth, as biblical.

I have to wonder, further on #3 above, whether the whole Pope-against-contraception thing got started — presumably overtly in about 1930, but whenever — because he and all his henchmen realized that they needed to try to ensure continuous re-population so that they could maintain whatever degree of hold they had on the world.

Cynical? Sad? But maybe true?

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For those interested, here are links to a few of the posts that dealt with these monkeys in the past.

https://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/05/20/osb-at-it-3-times-already-this-year/

https://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/08/28/vianneys-folly-3-of-3/

https://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/08/26/a-central-tenet-of-neo-protestantism-1-of-3/

Vianney’s folly (3 of 3)

A central tenet of my iteration of neo-protestantism, as I stand with certain spiritual forbears, involves criticism of the Roman Catholic ekklesiological institution.  This post is the final installment of a three-part series of protests of R.C. institution–specifically of their idea of priesthood.

John Vianney was looked to as a model because of his simple, quiet life of service.  He is said to have become one of the greatest “confessors” ever.  The term “confessor” can pertain to booth-style Roman Catholic confession sessions, or to a special historical role of sufferer recognized by the R.C. institution.  I’m not sure which sense is intended when used in reference to this John.

I learn from the article’s author that “four or five priestly vocations were awakened” in John’s parish in Ars, France.  What makes a vocation priestly?  I’m given no details, but I suspect that if these four or five were listed, I would react in one of two ways to each, in succession:  either the “vocation” is bogus, or it is for all Christians, not just those at certain hierarchical levels in institutions.

Not to downplay the various offenses I felt as I first read this article, but there was a single paragraph that represented the height of either ludicrousness or blasphemy—take your pick.  These words are attributed to John Vianney, when he was “speaking of the Holy Orders” (whatever those are):

Go to confession to the Blessed Virgin, or to an angel; will they absolve you?  No.  Will they give you the Body and Blood of Our Lord?  No.  The Holy Virgin cannot make her Divine Son descend into the Host.  You might have two hundred angels there, but they could not absolve you.  A priest, however simple he may be, can do it.  Oh, how great is a priest!  If he understood himself he would die, not of fear, but of love.  He will not understand the greatness of his office till he is in Heaven.

Simply put, I feel deeply embarrassed for John Vianney and for the writer of this article who perpetuated such nonsense.  The above paragraph is an embarrassment to all who would claim to honor the name of Jesus.

Look critically at the assumption of any continuing function of Mary, the assumption of transubstantiation, the capital letters that erect a façade of hierarchy and mystery, and of course the attempt to imbue the “office of a priest” with significance.  Where is the reality?

Roman Catholics accept that there is some power and authority vested in ordained priests.  I accept no such thing.  The author of this article concludes by asserting that a priest “is a man ordained to continue the Savior’s work of Redemption until the end of time.”  I respond, “We are all to continue His work.  There is no special class of humans recognized by God.” Any attempt to assert a clergy class based on scripture will be in vain.

In a strangely parallel reading (in Jeremy Begbie’s Resounding Truth), just today I noted the celebrated spiritualist composer Olivier Messiaen’s affirmation of “the existence of the truths of the Catholic faith.”  This statement, along with every news-media mention of “The Church” when referring to the Roman Catholic institution—or any other, for that matter—gives me spiritual pain.  The “Catholic faith” must be recognized as a human system, a superimposition on biblical Christianity, and a system gone awry.  Really, every human system goes awry; it’s just that this one has survived so many centuries of scripture-defying presumption that I feel a profound need to criticize it resoundingly.

And so I leave my criticism of the Kansas monks and the brand of religion they stand for.  Good riddance, clergified concepts of priesthood and all monkish ideals.  And may God truly have mercy on all our souls—including yours, you sincere but misguided friends in similar faith.

Long live reforming.

Ontology and ordination (2 of 3)

A central tenet of my iteration of neo-protestantism, as I stand with certain spiritual forbears, involves criticism of the Roman Catholic ekklesiological institution.  This post is the second in a three-part series of protests of R.C. institution–specifically of their idea of priesthood.

The writer of the article (referred to yesterday) proceeds presumptively to describe what he views as an ontological change that occurred after the bishop’s “ordination.”  (Ontological rhetoric deals with the nature of existence and reality.)  The thought is that prior to the laying on of hierarchical hands, nothing special was happening when the priests would practice “celebrating Mass” with the “unconsecrated host” in their hands, but that after ordination, well, then an “ontological change took place,” and the “piece of fried paste became the body, blood, and divinity of Jesus Christ.”  The words “celebrating Mass” are abiblical, and “unconsecrated host” begs a challenge, but I’ll leave those where they are.

I’m not knowledgeable enough to discuss the historical ins and outs of transubstantiation and consubstantiation, but I know a couple of sources for the R.C. idea on this, and I know they’ve overemphasized at least one brief passage and have not handled scripture well in this area at all.  Even if they should happen to be on to something and there’s some level of mysterious ontological change in the bread, it’s presumptuous to think that the mere laying of some robed archbishop’s hands on some other-colored-robed monk means that that monk’s basic nature is changed, and when he touches bread and utters an incantation now, something is existentially different.  It just isn’t so, and I have no qualms about saying that it isn’t.

Moving on … did you know that the current pope proclaimed last year as the Year for Priests?  Talk about an ontological shift … oh, wow, how things are now so radically different for me, now that I know that it was the Year for Priests!  All my reality has been changed.  😉  Anyway, apparently, a guy dubbed “St. John Baptist Mary Vianney” was held up as a model for today’s priests.[1] This John– I’ll call him John instead of using the androgynous “Mary” label he and other R.C. adherents often take as a third or fourth given name — lived during the early 1800s in France and reputedly didn’t have an elevator shaft all full of crayons, or his bright taco combo platter didn’t go all the way up, or something.  John did eventually pass his priest exams and is now the “patron saint” of all priests.

Now, a “patron saint” is supposed to have ongoing powers of intercession—a sort of direct-line to God.  The closest one can get to this silly idea in scripture is in the parable of the “Rich Man and Lazarus,” and interpretation of parables is always a bit elusive.  Anyway, I’ve digressed a couple of times in a single paragraph—forgive me for being spiritually and emotionally antagonized—so I’ll return tomorrow!

Next:  More on John Vianney, non-realities, and the priest’s (non-)office

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[1] My flippant use of the word “guy” here is intended to refer to the personage on the proper level.  He was, after all and in essence, just another guy like me.

A central tenet of neo-protestantism (1 of 3)

I don’t want to make any single group—my own or any other—the solitary butt of this blog’s criticisms.  Neither do I want to shy away, though, from what will continue to be a central tenet of my iteration of neo-protestantism:  criticism of the Roman Catholic ekklesiological institution.

As regular readers know, I’ve periodically poked at the presumptions and assumptions in letters of appeal I’ve received in the mail from the Benedictine Monks of Atchison, Kansas—where I once lived, delightedly, for three years.  (Delighted by Kansas, not by the monks or by the abbey, mind you.)  A couple of months ago, though, I did finally take the step of writing congenially to the abbot, politely sending him excerpts  of my own writings (some from here, for example) in exchange for all the unrequested ones I’d received from the guys at the abbey, and to request that I be taken off their mailing list.  In the words of F. Flintstone, perhaps not a more spiritually astute personage, but one whose memorable words out of another pile of rubble[1] apply here, yeahbut, abbot! do take me off the mailing list. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.  If that escaped you, just say the words in bold aloud.)

About a month ago, I received an entire magazine published by these Kansas monks.  Within the pages was a feature on the meaning of priesthood, as understood by the author, a monk.  This blogpost will decry the content of that article.  I intend to pull no punches, finding spiritual and logical fault with the RC idea of “priesthood”—its underpinnings, its overarching concepts, and everything between.  I intend to take R.C. criticism to a new level, and then I resolve not to write about the Kansas monks here ever again.  Deal?

The article begins with two brief accounts of two different archbishops and their having laid hands on the heads of eight young monks, “ordaining them as priests.”  Right out of the starting gate, I bristled.  From the presumptuous idea of the spiritual office of archbishop to the syrupy veneer (to mix a metaphor) on the idea of “young monks” to the assumption that a hierarchical laying on of hands somehow conveys spiritual power or authority—all this repels me like an opposing-charge magnet.  An arch- anything strikes me as evil, egomaniacal, or at least arrogantly aggrandized.  I’m already fired up, and the meat of this article is several paragraphs hence.

In the second paragraph, another presumption appears:  that R.C. bishops[2] of this day bear some resemblance to bishops of the first century, and that there has been a succession of miraculous power-bequests at the hands of bishops.  I’ll ignore the lack of attempt to connect “archbishop” in one paragraph with “bishop” in the next; there’s no attempt here to justify an extrabiblical hierarchy.

Tomorrow:  ordination and ontology

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[1] This is a feeble play on the ex cathedra notion—the ridiculous presumption that the Pope is infallible when he speaks “out of the chair (Latin: cathedra) of Peter.” I can see Benedict now:  “Hum dee-dum-dum-dum dum … I’m walking from the kitchen to the chair … hum dee-dum … a minute ago I spoke of corn flakes and coffee; now I’m infallible….”

[2] Here I’ll assume that the writer of this article had some knowledge of the etymology of “bishop,” i.e., that it does stem from the biblical word episkopos and that there is some biblical precedent for “bishoping,” albeit not like Christendom tends to think of it today, in our more globalized society.