If available information about Mass attendance since the COVID-19 outbreak is true, then there was certainly significant cause for Word on Fire and Catholic Voices’ conference on identifying the ways of sharing the Church’s story in the modern world.
The key speaker at the Queen Elizabeth II Centre opposite Westminster Abbey was American Bishop Robert Barron– a man who knows just a thing or two about the subject.
Since his first YouTube uploads containing pithy five- to ten- minute videos (frequently discussing religious themes in Hollywood movies or common misconceptions about Catholic beliefs) in the mid 2000s, he’s become one of the most influential voices in the Catholic world. Amassing 606,000 subscribers, attracting (at the time of writing) 124,840,720 views and a further 3,100,000 followers on Facebook, the Bishop of Winona-Rochester is someone who has shared the story of the Church in a way that cuts through and both alights interests and attention.
His fellow speaking guest at the conference’s featured event, bestselling historian Tom Holland, is someone better qualified than most to offer commentary on how the Catholic Church effectively challenged the culture and exhorted populations initially hostile to “repent and believe in the Gospel” in the past. Whether it be his expertise as a Cambridge and Oxford scholar on Anglo-Saxondom – the conversion of warlike and Pagan Germanic tribes owing to the efforts of Pope Gregory the Great’s missionary St Augustine of Canterbury – or his expertise on the Christian “revolution” in the world of classical antiquity, it’s not overstating things to say that he too has a bit of insight on how the Church managed once or twice before to share its story in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
There was an amusing moment at the beginning of the conference and before these two celebrities offered a memorable and idiosyncratic discussion for the some one and a quarter thousand attendees. Guests were asked what their predominant reason for being present was and instructed to log in to a site online in order to choose from a multiple-choice selection, with the results published live on the projectors throughout the hall. There was a chuckle from the audience as it became predictably clear that well over 50 per cent were here solely for the bishop.
The Chicago-born priest first gave a solo talk. It was good – and he echoed Thomistic warnings about languishing in the attractive snares of wealth, power, pleasure and honour. But it was predicated around an anecdote that I (and I imagine many of his other followers in the room) had heard him give before.
“Remember that famous image of Christ at Chartres Cathedral,” Bishop Barron said. “Picture life as a wheel with Christ in the centre. Don’t live on the outside of the wheel subject to the ups and downs that life inevitably brings. No. Stay in the centre, with Christ.”
Bishop Barron openly admits the oriental influence on the homily. It’s neither completely fitting for the Christian spiritual life nor entirely out of place. It’s successful at getting an ancient theological truth across nonetheless; wealth, power, pleasure and honour do indeed fade. Sic transit gloria mundi – thus pass the glories of the world.
So when the bishop and Mr Holland sat down together with Justin Brierley moderating, it was the latter who opened. The controversy began immediately as the historian gave a quintessentially British, good-humoured and cynical overview of his childhood upbringing by way of an introduction.
“My atheism was very Protestant,” he chimed. “I’d read so much Jacobean tragedy, the first time I saw a cardinal in Rome I thought he was probably going off to poison a nunnery or something.”
Throughout the talk, Holland (himself teetering on the borderline between agnosticism and the beginnings of faith) would be more critical of Protestantism than the Catholic bishop sat beside him.
An Anglican independent school alumnus, Holland explained that his journey with the Christian Faith was complicated early on by an atheist father, devout mother and the discovery of a more prominent interest in Romans, Egyptians and Greeks than in the strange metaphysical beliefs of ancient Judea.
It was only later, as an adult, when he read as a scholar about Caesar’s slaughter of a million Gauls after the Roman conquest of its north-western neighbour or of the extent to which ancient Sparta was centrally predicated upon the brutal subjugation of surrounding villages, towns and cities (and let’s face it pederasty), that he began to comprehend how fundamentally different these people were to him in values and attitudes.
Holland’s realisation was that both he and the cultural milieu in which he’d grown up was more Christian than either had realised. Then he began to see two things: its uniqueness and its merit.
“I began to see that the Catholic Church was the primary institution behind our civilisation,” he said.
Reflecting on the sudden collapse of his prior anti-Catholic prejudice, he pressed further, revealing where his judgement stands today.
“Some of you in the audience would probably say atheism is the natural end point of Protestantism, and I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with that… I think Protestant anti-Catholicism and New Atheism go hand in hand.”
He didn’t just leave the claim hanging in the air, but swiftly proceeded to explain that he thinks the messianic and iconoclastic mission of the reformers to cleanse the world of prior superstition is found precisely in people like Richard Dawkins.
He shed doubt upon the revitalised notion that somehow through the removal of perceived-superstition men would become more moral and reasonable, pointing out it wasn’t the case in the early-modern period and doesn’t appear to be happening today.
The audience generally liked what they were hearing and offered approval and agreement along with laughs aplenty. Bishop Barron cracked a more contained smile.
Holland then gave his advice on how the Church should communicate its message: to emphasise how it is distinct. Looking back on Christian history, he noted how the contemporary State has seized the ground on which the Church used to stand almost alone. The running of hospitals and orphanages; education; human rights. Even “love” has been captured and rebranded by the secular world.
Barron then came in and agreed.
“We tend to do what Kant et al did and turn the Christian Faith into a vague ethical system,” he responded, lamenting how the Church has at times been shy about acknowledging its distinctness.
The bishop excels here. It is he that once drew my attention to the fact our Faith cannot be reduced to a moral system. It is much more concerned about the supernatural, being, metaphysics, relationality, reality and judgement. He often recalls how Thomas Jefferson – a deist, sceptic and man of his age – decided to take a razorblade to the New Testament and remove any mystical and otherworldly references in order to (what he thought would) salvage the morality of the Christian system, only to find a pathetic rag of a document remaining, one with barely any paper.
When you re-read your Gospels, it’s worth giving attention to. Christ’s ethical teachings really are a fraction of the story.
When encouraged by either of the two sat beside him to acknowledge that the Christian Faith should claim for itself ownership of the ideas that influenced our contemporary political regime and modern ways of thinking as an unacknowledged victory, Barron was justifiably resistant.
“No, no. Modernity is a Christian heresy,” he interjected.
Bishop Barron continued to expose the influence of philosophical nominalism, an erroneous system which denies universal concepts and renders thought almost illegible, and its influence on our postmodern age. He then called for a rediscovery of the High Middle Ages, not just in aesthetic but ideational terms. At points like these, anybody would be forgiven for (incorrectly) thinking Barron a traditionalist.
There were nods from the chair opposite. Holland is sympathetic to both points. He believes “wokery” in particular resembles a kind of Gnostic Christian heresy, one with original sin (whiteness, institutional racism etc) but no redemption.
On the point of original sin, Holland recounted a story of a new mother he once knew who, upon seeing the delightful face of her newborn, was unable or unwilling to maintain belief in the doctrine of original sin and lost her faith.
He next linked this to his view that the 1960s will go down in history with the 16th century as one of the most disastrous and cataclysmic moments in all Christian history. He followed with an overview of the theological atmosphere at the time of such a disaster.
“It was the idea that the people who affirmed the idea of original sin were blue meanies. And if you only got rid of them then it would be non-stop Pepperland, there would be Beatles music and psychedelic colours. It’d all be groovy and we’d hang out… and free love… brilliant. And even as this doctrine was being [rejected] in the 60s, events in the late 60s were suggesting there might be… problems with this hope.”
“I’ll quote Chesterton here by saying that it’s the only doctrine for which we have empirical evidence,” replied the Bishop.
The audience chortled in agreement. Bishop Barron was being challenged here more than is immediately obvious. Mr Holland as an outsider is very critical of the theologies of the 20th century, particularly those influential at the time of the Second Vatican Council in the early 60s – some of whom Bishop Barron (a follower of Hans Urs von Balthasar and Henri de Lubac) subscribes to.
The bishop used the stage to defend the doctrine through offering a highly fitting analogy for original sin. Namely: when a mother who suffers from a crack cocaine or heroin addiction gives birth to a child, doctors will tell us that the child (despite its lack of responsibility therein) inherits that same craving and affliction.
“I think we’re living in a Pelagian age now … Augustine has been repudiated since the 60s and Pelagius has been enshrined,” agreed Holland. “But the great thing about original sin is that it’s democratic. All of us share in it. The notion that perfectibility is possible is dangerous because it implies if you don’t reach perfection it’s your fault.”
For the rest of the discussion, the bishop’s talking points were comparably somewhat bland. It was only when Holland was willing to plunge into contentious territory that he would shine, and perhaps this is an analogy for the modern Church. We haven’t stopped believing in all of the scary, unique and challenging stuff. But we tend to hide it away and don’t go near it until somebody else demonstrates they’re happy to bring it up.
This phenomenon is in no small part the result of a famous recommendation by the aforementioned Nouvelle theologians of the 20th century and something which the late Pope Benedict XVI was also guilty of: only talking about the Faith in positive language. Not only is this forced and modern (almost New Age with its incessant emphases on positive “energies” and “vibes”) but a primary problem with it is that we cannot get around that Jesus Christ and the Gospel themselves did not only speak in positive language. Nobody needs salvation and a saviour unless there’s something we need to be saved from – Bishop Barron himself often acknowledges this.
Holland appears much closer to conversion than I’d previously imagined. Given more pressure and prayers in his favour, perhaps he will. But there was no negative reinforcement or urgency thrown his way by the bishop. And it’s perhaps doubly a missed opportunity because the moderator of the discussion, Justin Brierley, is also an interesting man.
A host on Premier Christian Radio, Brierley has demonstrated himself to be a man who seriously explores theological ideas in talks available online and by previously inviting Bishop Barron for a moderated debate with a prominent atheist. He’s an Evangelical who appears to have a significant deal of admiration for the Catholic Faith alongside traditional Christian teachings and practices. They’re a welcome and growing tribe. I’ve been made aware of more than a few others in his situation too.
For these, and Holland, the problem isn’t necessarily their beliefs or attitudes. They’re good folk. And on our side on many an issue. It’s their location.
Catholics like Bishop Barron can talk for days about all things we hold in common with sympathetic agnostics like Holland and Protestants like Brierley. Bridges will be built; there will be smiles and nods and friendships made. But if this is all we communicate then that’s little reason in itself to convert if they happen to be comfortable where they are.
Why is it that early Christians perceived the excommunicated state as so grave – akin to a condemnation to death? Why is it that the Fathers identified the Catholic Church with the Ark of Noah? Perhaps those are the uncomfortable questions we should be confronting.
If Catholics want to share the story of Holy Mother Church as effectively as they did before the 1960s, they must again draw attention to Her indispensability in the economy of salvation. Surely we ought to be prepared to talk about the Faith in negative terms too once more.
(Picture of Bishop Barron and Tom Holland, far right, courtesy of Catholic Voices)
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