Today’s parishioner, whose conscience stands
in urgent need of formation,
is getting bland generalities.

Silence in the pulpit
By Frederick W. Marks

When Aaron, high priest of the Jews, allowed his countrymen to kick over the traces, God slaughtered rebel leaders by the thousands and forced Aaron to act as agent.1 Later, Isaiah pleaded with men of the cloth to “tell my people their wickedness.”2 But in vain. Hosea beheld his kith and kin languishing for want of spiritual nourishment. Woe to the priests, he thundered, who “feed on the sin of my people” and are “greedy for their guilt.”3 Once again, however, there was no response, and it was not long before the Northern Kingdom of Israel ceased to exist.

Judah followed in much the same path. Moral rot began to set in, and the prophets groaned. Ezekiel told priests in no uncertain terms that they were responsible for the sins of their people when they failed to give proper instruction.4 “Woe to the shepherds of Israel,” he warned; they were “pasturing themselves” (italics added). They “did not strengthen the weak,” did not “bring back the strayed, nor seek out the lost.”5 And eventually, they, too, perished.

Two thousand years later, on the eve of the English Reformation, St. Thomas More wrote that the clergy of his country had succumbed to a spirit of worldliness—“like pigs sprawling in the mire.”6 History repeats itself.

In our own day, Protestants are able to lure millions from the Catholic fold because many in responsible positions remain mum in the face of rampant immorality. Homilies dwell on love and tolerance while the hard teachings are allowed to go begging. This despite Jesus’ command to “observe all” that he had taught and Paul’s concern with proclaiming the word of God “in its entirety.”7 A great deal goes by the boards these days, and with results that are predictable. Again and again, Catholics who join fundamentalist or evangelical groups give as the reason for their switch: “The pastor whom I knew as a youth did not impart strict moral values.”8

One morning after Mass, I had occasion to speak with the celebrant about his homily. Why, I asked, did he not mention the sacrament of penance during a talk devoted to spiritual reformation? Regular confession as a means of fighting venial sin before it metastasizes into something more serious is highly recommended by the Church. Yet not a word. What would one think of a doctor who knew of a remedy for a life-threatening disease and failed to prescribe it when needed? Would he not be liable to a malpractice suit? And are not priests doctors of the soul?

The long and short of it is that today’s parishioner, whose conscience stands in urgent need of formation, is getting bland generalities. Half of all engaged couples are cohabiting. As such, they run a frightful risk of divorce, far higher than normal. Objectively speaking, they are also living in mortal sin. Do they not have a right to the truth? Some priests hesitate to deal with the problem until couples come to them for pre-Cana counseling. This, though, is rather like closing the barn door after the horse is out. Young people should be apprised early on of the link between chastity and happiness. And if they themselves are not in the pew, then friends, parents, and grandparents, on hearing the truth, will be braced to stand for what is right. At a time when an estimated seventy to eighty percent of Catholic couples defy the Church’s ban on contraception, silence reigns. No matter that contraception is one of the leading causes of immorality and that, like cohabitation, it can have results that are deadly. What father, finding his children playing with matches, would not take action? And are not cohabitation and contraception as potentially harmful to the soul as fire is to the body?

Only forty percent of Catholics are said to attend Mass regularly in the United States. According to the Catechism (# 2181): “those who deliberately fail in this obligation commit a grave sin.” But is word going out to the other sixty percent? There are only two days during the liturgical year when “ashes and palms” Catholics are present at Mass to hear the word of the Lord. Yet in all probability, what they are hearing is a variation on the tired theme of “love thy neighbor” or, worse still, a takeoff on current speculation undermining confidence in the reliability of Sacred Scripture.

Most are aware of the Church’s position on abortion and euthanasia. Can they be expected to take it seriously, however, if they never hear it preached, only mentioned; if, furthermore, they receive no explanation of why the Church teaches as it does?9 Although they may know in some vague sort of way that they are obliged to follow the Holy Father on faith and morals, their allegiance can hardly be secure when they remain ignorant of what the Bible and the Church Fathers have to say on papal leadership; when, in addition, they fail to realize that Protestants, lacking a central ground of unity, have split into somewhere between twenty and thirty thousand sects, all claiming preferred status and agreeing on virtually nothing save perhaps the existence of God.

Polls indicate that only sixty percent of Catholics recognize the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist—hardly surprising when so few homilies make the case for Transubstantiation. My mother used to say that if the American Church were a money-making proposition like IBM or Ford, it would be out of business in six weeks.

There is much in today’s pulpit about “love,” a notion that appealed as much to Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin as it did to Francis of Assisi. What were National Socialism (Nazism) and communism if not well-meaning attempts to legislate love? It is up to the homilist to explain that Christian love differs from other types, that it calls for a good day’s work for a good day’s pay, along with courtesy and good humor; that family comes before professional advancement in case of conflict; and that after family needs are met, we help our neighbor. Love causes us to live as simply as our state in life will allow in order that we may share our surplus with the poor.

Those truly in love with God will do things that are truly loving. Fasting, for example, is a mark of solidarity with the suffering Christ and one that stimulates generosity, as well as self-mastery. Christian love implies an absolute unwillingness to cheat on one’s spouse, even in tiny matters; beyond this, it demands purity of thought and speech. One might even make the case for punctuality. The Seventh Commandment, like the other nine, has many applications, and one must consider whether the stealing of another’s time is not a form of theft.

Heinous crimes are committed every day in the name of love. Abortion and euthanasia, in particular, are often justified under the rubric of compassion. But this is “soft love.” The real article, by contrast, can be tough. It may nudge us to boycott outlets that sell books, magazines, or videos that are harmful. It may prompt us to write an occasional letter of complaint or one of commendation. How many Catholic parents are prepared to make clear to their offspring that the religious life is the very best that can ever be hoped for from a son or daughter?

Real lovers are going to treat all persons, regardless of race, color, or creed, as brothers and sisters in Christ, just as they will select friends on the basis of sound moral values, thereby ensuring a wholesome environment for the rest of the family.10 Finally, they will live the virtues of temperance and chastity. Those who claim to be attuned to the law of love yet allow themselves to be an occasion of sin to another—by what they say or what they wear—are talking nonsense. Lastly, those who take Christ seriously will avoid occasions of sin, and when they do fall, they will receive the grace of absolution with a firm purpose of amendment coupled with a practical plan for reform.

Homilies without occasional reference to the lives of the saints are like math texts without numbers. Young or old, we all need role models, and our spiritual decathlon champs should come across as exciting and attractive—as indeed they were. A dry summary of their work will not do. We need to know how they struggled, overcame obstacles, conquered temptation, persevered in the face of much misunderstanding, and in many cases risked their lives.

If he is fortunate, the man in the pew will be reminded of the persecution that is sure to accompany religious commitment. I say “fortunate” for unless he is prepared to undergo the type of adversity that belongs to a true follower of Christ, in addition to normal trials and tribulations, he will cut and run under pressure. Needless to say, there are many ways of equipping souls to withstand the secular blitz. John Paul II, in Crossing the Threshold of Hope, does everything but get down on his knees and beg priests to concentrate more on the four last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell.

Still another area where clerical silence hurts relates to the reverence and respect that is owed to the presence of Christ on church premises. A conscientious pastor will find ways of urging his people to wear their Sunday best in accord with Psalm 96 (“Worship the Lord in holy attire”). And this is not all he will do. Those who are spiritually “well brought up” learn not to talk while others are trying to pray, just as they do not pass the Tabernacle without genuflecting or bowing as a sign of recognition. No street-wise kid in scruffy jeans, no waif or latchkey child is worse off than today’s parishioner without a shepherd in the rectory. One is reminded of the mother who is positively assiduous in planning activities for her brood—soccer, ballet, judo, and playdates galore. But when it comes to monitoring behavior and showing affection in time of need, she is engaged elsewhere, and no one is quite able to take her place. The same may be said of absentee fathers. How easy it is for the pastor to become so engrossed in organizational detail that he ceases to function in his primary capacity as preacher, confessor, and counselor. Good homilies take time, and this is where lay volunteers can help—by lightening the managerial load so that their man on top can accomplish what he alone is commissioned to do.

Members of the congregation need not be willful in their negligence. Oftentimes, they simply don’t know any better. Overindulged yet at the same time neglected, they constitute a new class of spiritual orphans. Anyone who has led religious education classes can testify to the fact that the members of this new class don’t know what they believe, much less why they believe it. Consequently, they lack pride in their Church; and without pride, they soon fall prey to the attractive power of the world. The slightest mention of Galileo, the Crusades, or the Spanish Inquisition makes them shake in their boots and hang their heads. Two or three homilies a year on Catholic history would give them a greatly improved sense of historical perspective. Karl Keating has suggested that every homily without exception be aimed at defense of the faith, and he may well be right, for every one of the values that we hold dear is under constant fire. Every one of the leading objections to what we believe—from papal infallibility and the Real Presence to relics, the role of Mary, and indulgences—should be presented in such a way as to make the listener proud of what he professes and anxious to share it with others.

Teenagers, especially the brighter ones, may be at greatest risk since they will be fed an awful lot of sauce in the upper grades. Only if they are properly formed by Holy Mother Church will they be able to take issue with the New Age belief that “one religion is as good as another.” Now and then they need to be reminded that Jesus did not die on a cross so that we could all do our own thing, think our own thoughts, and follow the line of least resistance morally. By the same token, “conscience,” another catchword of the New Age, must be recognized for what it is, a convenient escape hatch in the face of difficult teaching. One’s conscience must be formed.

How sad it is that religious education, which is necessarily a life-long process if it is going to lead us home, typically ends on the day of one’s confirmation. Many come to church with an advanced degree in economics, medicine, or law. Yet when it comes to the faith, they remain on a grade school level. Even in so-called Catholic schools, students tend to receive less and less religious instruction the farther they advance. The higher they go academically, the less is expected in terms of devotion when by rights it should be the other way around. The older they grow, the more they should be encouraged to satisfy their curiosity and nourish their soul through directed reading and frequent reception of the sacraments, especially penance.

Still another theme of the New Age with which we are all familiar is “non-judgmentalism.” There is nothing wrong with it when applied to men’s souls and not their actions. Still, it is only one side of the Christian coin. Hatred of evil is the other. And where the two are not conjoined, what emerges is a false tolerance that can only do harm. Those who subscribe to the gospel of love must be willing to warn their neighbors when they are riding for a fall. Fraternal correction was one of the precepts laid down by Our Lord when He preached the good news, and “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and always.”11

There has been much buzzing of late about Vatican II and the role of the laity. Council documents are often interpreted as a call for in-church activism with special emphasis on lectoring and the extraordinary ministry of the Eucharist. Helpful as such functions may be, they should not be permitted to obscure the main thrust of what Vatican II had in mind for Catholic men and women, which is a greatly stepped up effort to bring Christian spirituality and gospel truth to the marketplace, the factory, and the home. Here is where the accent must fall. But the average person will be ill-prepared for such activity unless he is properly primed.

The silence of the pulpit extends to the very air that we breathe, which is full of profane and obscene language. Alarm bells are not ringing. Things that are holy and private are trampled upon. Lewdness floods our radio waves, TV, and cinema. Where is the indignation? How long can one go on painting a lopsided picture of Christ without doing irreparable harm to the souls that have been entrusted to us? “If the trumpet giveth forth an uncertain sound, who will prepare to do battle?” (1 Cor. 14:8). If bishops and priests do not attempt to turn things around, there is little hope for the future. Redress is not going to come from politicians or judges, who are beholden to public opinion. Much less will it bubble up from below. Men of the cloth have a sacred duty, as well as a unique vantage point, from which to operate. People are hungry for the bread of Catholic formation, sensing correctly that it is the road to happiness even in this world.

We worry about losing people, but large numbers of well-meaning Catholics have already been estranged by clerical laxity, and some may be ripe for a return to the faith. In any event, Christianity is not a numbers game. Those who cannot bring themselves to believe what the Church teaches, those alike who refuse to accept Catholic discipline, are wolves in the sheepfold. We would be better off without them. I suspect, too, that the kind of approach I am recommending would bring more people to church in the long run than it would turn away. Paul slammed illicit sexual union (Col. 3:5-6) even as he admonished those who would water down the moral law. John, for his part, rebuked those who were trying to sweep fornication under the rug.12 And what happened? The Church grew by leaps and bounds. “Many,” we learn from the Gospel, turned their back on Jesus when he insisted on the Real Presence (John 6). But the organization that remained after “many” took a walk was lean, united, and supremely motivated—so much so that it swept the Roman Empire.

WANTED FOR ALL PARISHES: a homiletic plan to cover key points of faith and morals on a regular basis. In larger parishes, if priests did nothing more than map out a strategy, this would be a start. While every Sunday should be viewed as a teaching moment, twenty-five Sundays of the year could be designated as “formation Sundays” with a set topic and specific guidelines. If a particular priest did not feel comfortable with an assigned topic, one of his colleagues might fill in so as to reach all parishioners. If it happened that no one felt comfortable with a given subject, the pastor could then enlist the aid of an outside missioner. And let it not be said that “formation” homilies cannot be tied into one of the readings over a three-year cycle.

How long is empty rhetoric to be served up in an age of moral trauma? Sunday is the only time during the week when ninety-eight percent of the congregation comes into contact with the Church. The stakes are therefore high. If the opportunity afforded a father to gather his children for a heart-to-heart talk once a week is frittered away, how are his youngsters going to know the difference between wholesome and unwholesome fear of the Lord? How will they tell mortal from venial sin or recognize the twin danger of presumption (“everyone’s going to heaven”) and overscrupulousness (“I’ll never make it”)? How will they be able to appreciate what is meant by papal infallibility or grasp what Jesus had in mind when he warned his listeners about the torments of hell (mentioned thirty times in the New Testament)? Unless our people are familiar with the scriptural foundation for purgatory, unless they understand the principal proofs for Christ’s divinity, they will sail rudderless on a dark and stormy sea.

The seven deadly sins could stand periodic review. Likewise the Ten Commandments, with implications for everyday life carefully drawn out. Parishioners need down-to-earth applications. What, for instance, is expected of those who work in an office or clerk at a store? How will one reflect faith in Jesus if one services cars or drives a bus? Once it dawns on modern-day disciples that there is more to religion than platitudes and after-church coffees, they will want to turn their homes into places where prayer and religious education are taken seriously. Each day, they will read a passage from the Bible. Humble thanks will be offered before meals, and the family will kneel for an evening rosary. Communion will be received in a state of grace and confessions made with frequency, perhaps once a month. Husbands and wives will cease nagging. Pouting, too, will end; the gossip will shush; students will begin hitting the books. For the first time in their lives, many will feel what it means to be truly Catholic, and the joy they experience will be literally out of this world.

Make no mistake about it. Either homilies give life or they deal death. There is no middle ground. Four hundred years ago, when the Church was just beginning to recover from the shock of the Protestant Revolt, a young bishop of Milan by the name of Charles Borromeo addressed his fellow priests as follows: “Fathers, this is our duty and office . . . to look out for dangers as from a watchtower and to repel them when they threaten those who are resting under our charge and care . . . if any are being corrupted by the impurity of vice to heal them with the sharpness of salt [and] if any be wandering in moral darkness . . . to hold the light before them.”13

St. Charles, like Thomas More, was a man for all seasons, and his message speaks volumes to us today. May the reformation of the new millennium begin within rather than without, the Church of our fathers; and may it begin now.

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