D
DL82
Guest
I have been reflecting recently on the way some of the stricter or more ‘primitive observance’ congregations have so few vocations from the Western world. The Franciscan Nuns of the Immaculate in Cornwall, UK, for example, are almost entirely from the Philippines - they have had numerous British postulants, but no British nuns have actually been professed. The basic reason, I am told by a Traditionalist friend, is that British people just can’t cope with their level of discipline anymore.
It made me wonder, if people from those countries where life is harder, shorter, and less comfortable, countries we tend to describe as ‘developing’ or ‘less developed’, are able to sustain such lives of discipline and penance, which we in the West have become too soft to cope with, can we really set any value by our centuries of ‘progress’?
Although there are a good number of American Friars in the Friars of the Immaculate and the Friars of the Renewal, many of them also come from backgrounds where they have had a ‘hard’ life, either through the injustice of the world, or through the harsh discipline of strict Traditionalist Catholic schools.
I like to think of myself as a modern Catholic, but not a modernist. That is, I believe that the material progress of the world, while not an unqualified good, and particularly our increased understanding of human psychology and human nature, is a gift from God for the betterment of humanity. And yet something fundamental seems to have changed.
Here in Scotland, and over in Ireland, some of the Catholic religious orders of the past (which I will not name and shame) have become synonymous with cruelty. The real scandal of many of our schools and orphanages in the 1950s-1970s was that the ‘ordinary’ physical abuse to which the monks and nuns subjected pupils, in order to instil a strict sense of discipline and a resilience to the harshness of the world in which people then lived, many of them well-meaning but misguided, was so severe that it became almost impossible to distinguish the regular complaints and resentment of the children from the allegations of sadistic or sexual abuse perpetrated by a few truly vicious priests and religious. It can only be a blessing that the routine beating or humiliation of children by such orders is a thing of the past.
And yet I can’t avoid wondering whether this is the normal modus operandi of the Church. Through most of its history, ordinary people have been put through great trials by their faith, and only the few, the very holy, were able to function well within those trials. Those were the saints, the good priests and good religious, a minority perhaps among many religious, particularly women (I am thinking of St Therese, St Bernadette and St Margaret Mary Alocque for example) who were oppressed by their order, their will broken, their soul crushed. Only the strong spirit survived. The majority of the people, perhaps bearing inside them the same resentment that has surfaced from the victims of the physical abuse of the 1950’s-onwards, but silencing such resentment out of a sense of obedience to Holy Church, continued to go to Mass, out of a sense of piety and the fear of God - they may have been hurting, but “Lord, to whom shall we go, you alone have the words of eternal life” - so they came to Mass, not even to receive communion, except on the rare occasions they had been to confession, but just to be there, in the presence of a priest whom they held to be a saint, to beg the prayers of those strong ones who had made it through those trials, that they might somehow scrape into Purgatory. The Church has always exalted suffering, one only has to look at the bloody and disfigured corpus on medieval Spanish crucifixes to see that.
Has our modern psychology, and our modern ‘caring’ Church’s accommodation of the World’s discourse of avoiding unnecessary suffering, made us soft, made us scared of penance and discipline?
I realise I sound like a barbarian for even suggesting this. I can’t bear the thought that this line of reasoning returns us to the barbarism of the routine and systematic brutality toward children that was synonymous with some of those awful convents and schools. Can Catholicism only flourish when death is ever-present and life is ‘nasty, brutish and short?’ Can someone please show me the error of my reasoning?
Can we return to the discipline of the past without such barbarism? If the discipline of the early Franciscans or Carthusians is going to become a thing of the past, impossible for ‘modern’ humanity, can that ever be welcome in the Church?
It made me wonder, if people from those countries where life is harder, shorter, and less comfortable, countries we tend to describe as ‘developing’ or ‘less developed’, are able to sustain such lives of discipline and penance, which we in the West have become too soft to cope with, can we really set any value by our centuries of ‘progress’?
Although there are a good number of American Friars in the Friars of the Immaculate and the Friars of the Renewal, many of them also come from backgrounds where they have had a ‘hard’ life, either through the injustice of the world, or through the harsh discipline of strict Traditionalist Catholic schools.
I like to think of myself as a modern Catholic, but not a modernist. That is, I believe that the material progress of the world, while not an unqualified good, and particularly our increased understanding of human psychology and human nature, is a gift from God for the betterment of humanity. And yet something fundamental seems to have changed.
Here in Scotland, and over in Ireland, some of the Catholic religious orders of the past (which I will not name and shame) have become synonymous with cruelty. The real scandal of many of our schools and orphanages in the 1950s-1970s was that the ‘ordinary’ physical abuse to which the monks and nuns subjected pupils, in order to instil a strict sense of discipline and a resilience to the harshness of the world in which people then lived, many of them well-meaning but misguided, was so severe that it became almost impossible to distinguish the regular complaints and resentment of the children from the allegations of sadistic or sexual abuse perpetrated by a few truly vicious priests and religious. It can only be a blessing that the routine beating or humiliation of children by such orders is a thing of the past.
And yet I can’t avoid wondering whether this is the normal modus operandi of the Church. Through most of its history, ordinary people have been put through great trials by their faith, and only the few, the very holy, were able to function well within those trials. Those were the saints, the good priests and good religious, a minority perhaps among many religious, particularly women (I am thinking of St Therese, St Bernadette and St Margaret Mary Alocque for example) who were oppressed by their order, their will broken, their soul crushed. Only the strong spirit survived. The majority of the people, perhaps bearing inside them the same resentment that has surfaced from the victims of the physical abuse of the 1950’s-onwards, but silencing such resentment out of a sense of obedience to Holy Church, continued to go to Mass, out of a sense of piety and the fear of God - they may have been hurting, but “Lord, to whom shall we go, you alone have the words of eternal life” - so they came to Mass, not even to receive communion, except on the rare occasions they had been to confession, but just to be there, in the presence of a priest whom they held to be a saint, to beg the prayers of those strong ones who had made it through those trials, that they might somehow scrape into Purgatory. The Church has always exalted suffering, one only has to look at the bloody and disfigured corpus on medieval Spanish crucifixes to see that.
Has our modern psychology, and our modern ‘caring’ Church’s accommodation of the World’s discourse of avoiding unnecessary suffering, made us soft, made us scared of penance and discipline?
I realise I sound like a barbarian for even suggesting this. I can’t bear the thought that this line of reasoning returns us to the barbarism of the routine and systematic brutality toward children that was synonymous with some of those awful convents and schools. Can Catholicism only flourish when death is ever-present and life is ‘nasty, brutish and short?’ Can someone please show me the error of my reasoning?
Can we return to the discipline of the past without such barbarism? If the discipline of the early Franciscans or Carthusians is going to become a thing of the past, impossible for ‘modern’ humanity, can that ever be welcome in the Church?