Fate of the Faithful
Some say he’s a spiritual galvanizer, others a bully. So what does the Twin Cities’ new archbishop really mean for Minnesota Catholics?
By Tim Gihring
Photo by Darren Booth (Typography & Illustration)
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Few, if any, have talked publicly of abandoning Catholicism altogether, not unlike other Catholics under duress. Mary Beckfeld, co-founder of the online journal Progressive Catholic Voice, which launched locally last fall to chronicle alternative viewpoints within the church, is the mother of a gay son and feels she can best affect change on his behalf by staying in the church. “We really love this church,” she says of herself and the newsletter staff. “And I don’t believe I’m living in mortal sin.” McCaffrey, who struggled for years to reconcile his sexuality with Catholicism, says he finally found balance in the inclusive spirit of Vatican II—only to feel it’s been pulled out from under him by the Catholic hierarchy. “That’s the outrage we feel,” he says. “They’re really screwing with our lives.”
Michael Bayly, who edits the Progressive Catholic Voice and directs CPCSM, has long advocated for gays like himself in the church. By baptism, he says, it’s his church, the one he knows and loves—why should he leave? Besides, he says, wherever Catholics are gathered, that’s a Catholic space. If the St. Stephen’s crowd moves underground, they won’t be any less righteous.
“I am writing letters to these asshole bishops!” shouts one parishioner—a nun in a purple tracksuit—during the St. Stephen’s service. “Blessed are the flexible,” cries another worshipper, “for they won’t get bent out of shape.” But such sentiments are unlikely to slow the broader archdiocesan housecleaning. Nienstedt is coming, after all. And efforts are being doubled to make the archdiocese presentable.
In a basement room of St. Mark’s parish in St. Paul, a local gathering of the National Council of Catholic Women is unexpectedly noisy for a coterie of ladies averaging 70 years old. They typically draw 60 people—135 are here today. Lucy Johnson, president of this particular passel, looks worried: Nienstedt is coming.
“I know there are people here who are not happy,” says Johnson. “I just hope people listen before they talk.” Nienstedt has never before spoken directly to Twin Cities women about their role. There are rumors, Johnson says, about his expectations of them, unflattering even to many septuagenarians—that he’d prefer women stay in the kitchen and away from the altar. It doesn’t help that after Nienstedt doffs his fedora he is accidentally introduced to the group as the “co-agitator,” instead of coadjutor, archbishop.
His speech quotes liberally from popes (his Catholic Spirit columns almost always quote popes or doctrinal documents) and addresses the limits of gender roles: “We don’t all have to have the same function. But we must all work together.” And he doesn’t shy from the big questions: Why can’t women be priests? Because at the Last Supper, when Jesus gathered his disciples and called them to lead his legacy, “no women were present,” says Nienstedt. “And the church can’t do what Jesus didn’t do.”
As soon as he finishes, the hands go up: “I wouldn’t know you from Adam’s housecat,” says one woman. “But you’re a controversial figure.”
“I am?” Nienstedt jokes. The woman asks if he really wants to stop women from serving at the altar. “It’s sheer bunk,” he says. Also “bunk” is the idea that priests suddenly want out of the archdiocese. “I don’t believe there’s a rush for the door,” he says. He then becomes reflective, pondering these rumors’ origin. “I tend to be straightforward—perhaps that puts people off,” he says. “My parents didn’t beat around the bush.”
When he leaves, the floor opens to dialogue, yet everyone seems curiously disarmed. “He’s not going to say what will make you feel good,” says one woman. “But if there’s our leader, I’ll get in line.” Another says, “Years ago, things were either right or wrong,” while now the picture is muddled. Nienstedt’s clarity, she says, is bracing.
Kennedy wouldn’t be surprised that Nienstedt won these women over. He believes the fear of Nienstedt is largely just fear of change: Catholics became accustomed to a certain perspective here after Vatican II, he says, and Nienstedt may not be dangerous so much as different. People may even be surprised by him, he says, once they get over the new ground rules. The archdiocese is redefining lay ministry, for instance, but Nienstedt is still enthusiastic about the concept—just as Pope Benedict has surprised critics by advocating for the environment and making hope and love the subjects of his first two policy statements.
This is cold comfort to those who have always felt too different for the hierarchy. But most Catholics might settle for a middle ground. “What we need is enough certainty, enough clear vision that we can commit ourselves to a faith,” says Smith, formerly of the University of St. Thomas, “but with enough flexibility that we can continue” to reconcile that commitment to contemporary knowledge. “It’s always a tension and balance to get that right.”
Progressives like Heidi Busse find hope in another tradition of the church, sensus fidelium, which holds that the Holy Spirit inevitably guides the faithful in the right direction—even if the church, as an institution, takes some errant turns. “We’re a human church on the one hand, but a divine one on the other,” she says. “Sometimes the hierarchy has to catch up to what the faithful has been doing. The faithful really lead.” Just where the church is on that continuum can only be seen—by the earthbound anyway—in hindsight.
Tim Gihring is a senior writer at Minnesota Monthly.
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Reader Comments:
Ms. Busse has an interesting understanding of "sensus fidelium". Appealing to the "sense of the faithful" would logically require that one be part of the "faithful" to begin with. Meaning that one is faithful to the teachings of the Church in their fullness. It would be an oxymoron to say that someone in dissent from Church teachings was part of the "sensus fidelium".
Great article but Tim missed one important point: There is another Catholic option - We have an Apostolic Catholic commnity in Mendota. We have an ordained, Catholic, married priest. We have weekly mass and all are truly welcome. Visit the website: http://www.spiritofhopecatholiccommunity.org/
Precisely what do these people think Catholicism is? Do they think it is a social club or a democratic political institution? Do they think that it can and will change just because they refuse to try to live up to its teachings? Are they shortsighted enough to believe that the "Spirit of Vatican II" was anything other than a completely fabricated Catholicism that never had any official sanction in the Council documents themselves or by the Church? Have any of them ever actually bothered to read those documents?
No, this article is drivel, precisely because its author, like so many commentators on the Church today, mistakes what sort of institution he is writing about. He treats it as a purely human and even much like a political institution. In that he is dead wrong. For the one with faith, he knows that Catholicism is the religion that traces back to the God Man, Jesus Christ. None other may claim that logically or historically. May God bless Archbishop Niestedt for his fidelity to the Church OF ALL TIME.
http://faithfulrebel.blogspot.com