April 1981 Print

A REVIEW OF JAMES HITCHCOCK'S CATHOLICISM & MODERNITY

by Anthony A. Mazzone

"But where the offense has abounded, grace has abounded yet more" (Rom. 5:20). Likewise, where infidelity and even apostasy predominate, God will not leave the holy Church, His spouse, bereft of champions to defend Her. Athanasius, for example, was not merely contra mundum but also in a sense major mundo—greater than the world. Neither are such defenders (though sparse) lacking in our own troubled times. Traditionalists will think in this regard not only of such prelates as Archbishop Lefebvre or the late Cardinal Ottaviani, but also of the many fine priests and outstanding laymen who continually suffer censure and even calumny simply because they insist upon worshipping and believing just as their ancestors had. However, they should also recognize—and without condescension—that many irreproachable spokesmen for orthodoxy cannot really be said to be in complete agreement with their own chosen mode of action. One tendency that traditionalists should avoid, in my opinion, is to dismiss any such as ipso facto modernist collaborators. Such a response can be had only to one's own detriment.

For example, no serious student of modern Church history can afford to cavalierly dismiss the writings of James Hitchcock, currently professor of history at St. Louis University. Mr. Hitchcock has few peers as a chronicler of the various trials the Catholic Church has undergone in the last fifteen years; in a steady stream of writings he has meticulously detailed the "endless store of ironies" implicit in religious liberalism. His latest book, Catholicism and Modernity: Confrontation or Capitulation? (Seabury Press, 1979) is a consistently brilliant analysis of the dynamics at work within what he calls "one of the greatest human mysteries of modern times," the cosmic "identity crisis" and near institutional dissolution of the Roman Catholic Church in the West. This work is a complete taxonomic description, as it were, of the egocentrism that lies coiled like a monster within modernist Christianity; a patient expose of the pettiness that underlies liberal rhetoric, an anatomy of the dynamics of social, political, and religious radicalization.

One cannot hope to do justice to the complexity of Hitchcock's analyses through a short paraphrase. However, if I may venture to distill the basic arguments here, I would suggest that in essence, he shows that the multitude of variations in the modernist position can be reduced to a single proposition: man cannot, should not, and must not bow to the supernatural dimension of existence. This holds true in all areas, whether it be hagiography, Biblical studies, or traditional liturgy. Modernists, as Hitchcock writes, "are at ease only with those things which seem like extensions of themselves, which do not threaten by symbolizing a world transcending their own and toward which they are called" (p. 48).

As spokes converge on the hub of a wheel, the familiar manifestations of Catholicism's decline (such as the relativization of ethics and horizontalization of the liturgy) can be variously related to the overriding egoism of modern thought. The "imperial self" must reduce all things religious to a secular common denominator, for it cannot tolerate the thought of any imposition originating from outside itself; consequently, there is an aversion to any absolute whatsoever: "But the one thing which the genial and open-minded modernist cannot accept or even tolerate is precisely dogma, the claim to truth, the insistence that what is taught is to be accepted and understood on its own terms and not simply as a metaphor." (p. 168) Hitchcock makes much of the psychologist Philip Rieff's perception of a fundamental shift in society from an "inhibitory" to a "remissive" mode of cultural behaviour. The former denotes a culture which is underlined by moral and religious affirmations and their attendant interdicts, while the latter is underlined by the assumption—perverted, as it turns out—of the absolute primacy of personal "fulfillment." This shift has led to the progressive demoralization of the faithful and the erosion of missionary spirit; it has gained ascendancy in seminaries and religious orders, depriving them of any innate force. Ideas and actions are divorced from their own consequences and invested only with the meaning the self wills they should have. Thus, vows can be broken, liturgies adopted at will, and "alternate life styles" adopted. The end result is slavery to the flux of present trends and a close-mindedness toward all that is not immediately pleasurable or fashionable: "The modernist relativist mentality can be tolerant and relativistic about everything except the basic terms of its own thinking" (p. 95). In the end, liberal Christians must inevitably lag behind their secular confreres; in reparation they "offer themselves as hostages to various 'progressive' movements, which not uncommonly use them as long as they remain useful, then casually discard them ... the world has no incentive to take Christianity seriously, since Christians themselves indicate that, at those points where they are in conflict with the world, they will sooner or later make their accommodations" (p. 70).

This is not all that is of value in this book. Chapter 6, "The Triumph of Bureaucracy," for example, is a model of research and quiet expository prose, tracing the growth of the "middle management" section of the Church, those functionaries whose main purpose is to keep themselves in business. Chapter 8, "The Kingdom of Politics," delineates the political naiveté, the vulgar Marxism, the toadying to cult figures of the Left which is endemic to clerical politicking. The self-flagellation and trivialization of psychological and social theory is illustrated with a wealth of convincing detail in Chapter 5, "The Illusion of Pluralism." And there is more, much more, distinguished uniformly by patient documentation and theological perspicacity, precision and courage. From this reviewer, at least, comes a token of admiration and gratitude.

Exception can be taken, however, to much of what is found in the book's concluding chapter, "The Future of Roman Catholicism." Indeed, this is perhaps the more important section, in the sense that treatment of an illness is of more consequence than its diagnosis. As a diagnostician of the illnesses of Catholicism Hitchcock has, we have suggested, few equals. The remedies he suggests, however, are in my opinion scarcely adequate for complete recovery.

He shares the common notion, often found in "conservative" journals (and which boasts not a shred of hard supporting evidence), that the new liturgy will shine forth in all its true Catholic beauty and dogmatic solidity if only "abuses" would cease and the current legislation be followed. Indeed, this is an assumption so ingrained in the conservative Catholic mind that it has almost acquired the status of dogma. A similar notion is that Vatican Council II was a "culmination" (p. 223) of Catholic teaching, somehow "misinterpreted" and in no way responsible for subsequent upheavals in the Church. Each of these assumptions shall be examined in detail, with reference not only to Professor Hitchcock, but to several other influential conservative thinkers.

As we have said, traditionalists are often guilty of unfairly accusing conservatives of aiding and abetting the heterodox enemy. Conservatives, however, are even more notorious for their bitterness in regard to traditional Catholics, and for their persistent refusal seriously to acknowledge and consider the nuances of the traditionalist position. Indeed, no matter how fine the mind or wide-ranging the sympathies, this refusal engenders a kind of characteristic blindness that is utterly regrettable; the half-desperate exigency to uphold whatever is currently approved acts to obscure even the most penetrating vision, particularly in regard to the liturgical reform.

One is shocked, for example, to read in a pamphlet entitled "The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass" by the renowned historian David Knowles (it is distributed in this country by Catholics United for the Faith) that the Dies Irae, though a literary masterpiece, is "liturgically indefensible"! Indeed, has the Church for centuries been so ignorant? Is it so absurd to pray for a soul as it stands before the judgment seat of God? Is it an indefensible practice to remind the faithful of their own impending judgment and the threat of eternal punishment? In Joy Without a Cause, a collection of generally wonderful essays by Christopher Derrick (Sherwood Sugden & Co., 1979), the author recalls a Mass he had attended at which the priest first carried out the "liturgy of the Word" in English, then donned his chasuble, faced the high altar, and began to pray in Latin. Mr. Derrick—a clever author, devout Catholic, and an obviously knowledgeable student of liturgical matters—could not tell whether the priest was using the traditional Roman Missal or that of Pope Paul VI, despite the fact that in gesture, structure, action, and their respective texts the difference is as vast as that between black and white.

This loss of vision has perhaps been caused by the massive propaganda campaign which has been waged for the past decade against traditional Catholics and in favor of the new liturgy. Thus we read in Catholicism and Modernity that "It is obvious ... most of the members of the Catholic Traditionalist Movement, or the followers of the retired French Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre (sic), are schismatics at heart. They have rejected the Second Vatican Council, which for Catholics is an impossible stance." While not answering for anyone, I would just point out that, in reviewing the writings of the Archbishop and his Society of St. Pius X, in reviewing their pastoral work, a fair-minded scholar must admit that the issues involved are of such import and subtlety that such a judgment is not "obvious" at all; in fact, it is quite off the mark. The point is not presently made much of by Hitchcock, and perhaps it would be unfair to have expected documentation of his opinion; nevertheless, the statement rings hollow (people become traditionalists simply because they feel "at heart" that they will in this way be more faithful to Roman Catholicism).

First, it should be realized that Archbishop Lefebvre has repeatedly stated his willingness to accept the documents of Vatican II, provided they be strictly interpreted according to Tradition (he does criticize what he sees as weaknesses and ambiguities in these documents, but this is not the same as "rejecting" them). Second, it is a measure of loyalty to the Church, not of rebellion, to persist in calling into question the Council's "Declaration on Religious Liberty" (Dignitatis Humanae), at least until such time as it can be proven not to contradict previous Church teachings. Third, I would myself wonder who betrays more of a schismatic attitude: a person who worships in an impeccably orthodox and holy manner, or one who worships at a Mass in which, after the Consecration, the Sacred Species are yet referred to as "bread and wine" (Fourth Eucharistic Prayer). Finally one should recall the fact that the Fathers of Vatican II did not mandate a new Mass, much less compose one; therefore, to reject the Novus Ordo is not ipso facto to reject the Council. The Fathers suggested only such comparatively minor alterations as the Church may have "genuinely and certainly" required. However, as Pope Paul himself admitted (1976) the new Missal has been promulgated to "replace" the old. Can the users of the new therefore, honestly accuse of rejecting the Council; is there not a beam in their own eye?

At any rate, the point here is that traditionalists cannot believe it is the mind of the Catholic Church to crush the sacred rites which she herself had taught to treasure above all things. No, a mother does not act in such a fashion. Traditionalists believe it is unthinkable to accuse the Church of requiring the faithful to worship in a manner many of them find foreign, or even repugnant, or of coercing them to seek spiritual nourishment at a table not prepared by loving ancestral hands. They also ask another question: What can be said of the fact that, with the new liturgy, the modernists have gained those concessions for which they have fought for years, and over which they now openly gloat? Who does not see the enemy rejoicing above the ruins? And where is the point beyond which those who have accepted the new ways cannot go? The Wanderer, for one, has consistently opposed every major liturgical change that has come along. The practice of Communion in the hand, for example, attacked by the paper's columnists as "dangerous," a veritable invitation to irreverence and even heresy. Now official approval has come, does the practice cease to be dangerous and irreverent? Or does one simply submit, though with a carping sullenness that is as bad as "disobedience"?

The traditionalist case against the liturgical reforms (we are speaking of it at its best) has been completely and publicly expounded. The situation is to date, there has not appeared a single serious refutation (those which have been written, such as of Msgr. Martimort, are quite disposed of). Mr, Michael Davies, for example, has written a trilogy on the subject which has been praised by many independent scholars for its objectivity and intellectual integrity. Yet, in the Catholic press, the books met with a virtual conspiracy of silence. Why? It would be an act of charity—one which would not be rejected—were someone to show traditionalists precisely where their analyses are wrong. Yet conservative Catholics are unrelenting in their refusal to consider, for example, the right to immemorial custom in liturgical matters; they adamantly decline to acknowledge the possibility that a real barrier of conscience may prevent one from attending the newly imposed rites; they harden themselves obdurately to the obvious fact that the Novus Ordo Mass (not to mention the other new sacramental rites) plays havoc with traditional devotional life. Just these attitudes give rise to such ill-considered and even callous statements as that of Hitchcok quoted earlier.

Then there is the patronizing assertion that it is only the "abuses," the common lack of reverence on the part of the celebrating priests, which accounts for the persistent preference for the Tridentine rite among the faithful. Thus, in an article by Msgr. Richard Schuler which in The Wanderer of February 5, we read, "Those abuses ... seem to be a major reason why a great number of people continue to be attracted to the Tridentine rite ... when the Novus Ordo is presented either in Latin or in English, in a sacred, solemn, and careful manner, then the continuing call for the restoration of the Tridentine rite will cease." This is a wishful, unsupported assumption. Quite the contrary, the traditionalist argument is about substance; no amount of cosmetic change could cover over the ascetic impoverishment, the paucity of dignity and reverence, the doctrinal flabbiness of the new rites. Even when celebrated in a worthy manner and according to the rubrics, there remains a dull vapidity, a dangerous horizontalization, a complete lack of sense. I believe most traditionalists would concur with Professor Frederick D. Wilhelmsen's judgment in this regard: "I despise the new vernacular liturgy; I abominate it when it is done badly I abominate it even when it is done reasonably well. I do not rejoice in the Novus Ordo in Latin" (Citizen of Rome, Sherwood Sugden &Co., 1979). Indeed, it is the legislation itself which is responsible for the progressive secularization of the Latin rite—if not in intention (among a of other things, one may point out that the abominable "Mass for Children" is officially approved). It could even be suggested that those priests who do celebrate the Novus Ordo with dignity do so only by retaining habits instilled by the old ceremonial, which is now obsolete. (How many know that the elevation of Our Lord's Body and Blood above the priest's head is no longer permitted, and that he is merely to "show" Them to the people?) The prominence given by the current rubrics to "options," "local adaptations" and spontaneous "explanations" indicates a more informal style of celebration; the very vocabulary ("president of the assembly," etc.) of the various liturgical directives proves that the new rites are not to be celebrated with the old Roman formality and restraint. When used, such a style seems incongruous, inappropriate to the contents.

To deliver themselves from such conclusions, some spokesmen advocate a kind of hybrid liturgy. In that same issue of The Wanderer, Fr. Deryck Hanshell, S.J., suggests that the new system of collects (insipid as they are), readings, and consecratory formulae be retained, while allowing the priest to use the old offertory prayers, the prayers at the foot of the altar, and "fewer or more kissings, crossings, and genuflections" ad libitum. On a practical level, this is ridiculous; more seriously, it betrays a total ignorance of the dynamics of true liturgical development, the wholly modern belief that liturgical practices are endlessly manipulable. Have we not had enough tinkering, enough revision, enough fruitless experimentation? Should such suggestions ever be taken seriously, traditionalists would have even greater cause for alarm. If a compromise, rich in appearance but poor in substance, be proposed, it must necessarily be rejected. Thus, the door would be opened for further charges of bad faith and pride against traditionalists. Such tactics are extremely effective.

Finally, the notion that the new liturgy must be accepted because it is "here to stay" is quite easily disposed of. If the traditional Mass and sacramental rites, in use for centuries, have been in a few years virtually stamped out, there is no reason to think that the new rites—generally unloved, and commanding little loyalty—may not much more easily be eliminated. Given the fact that they seem to propose an open invitation to sacrilege, and are a perennial cause of scandal and division, this elimination seems to be the wisest course the Church could follow.

Professor Hitchcock, though more perceptive, is equally at sea when dealing with these matters. In his earlier book, Recovery of the Sacred (Seabury Press, 1977) he states, "In Roman Catholicism a devotion to traditional liturgy almost inevitably has the effect of preserving orthodoxy, since these rituals are the concrete substance of the Church's life, in which its total meaning is embodied." In the concluding chapter of Catholicism and Modernity, he suggests that the new liturgy be celebrated with "serious and thoughtful" effort. What he does not realize is that the new liturgy, no matter how seriously celebrated, cannot have the effect of "preserving orthodoxy" simply because it is new (in truth, there has followed a serious erosion of orthodoxy). Since the "traditional liturgy," as he says, embodies the "total meaning of the Church's life," one may ask what the new liturgy embodies.

A second fiction of the conservative mind, as we have said, is that the Second Vatican Council was a "hopeful, joyous, confident event" (how this could be, since very quickly it became a frightful struggle for the soul of the Church, is beyond me) whose potential has been subverted by "misinterpretations." Thoughtful traditionalists will agree that the documents have quite often been misread and misapplied; however, they will also venture the obvious opinion that this was done so easily simply because of certain defects in those very documents, particularly omissions, ambiguities, and superficialities. For example, it failed definitively and clearly to lay to rest the controversy surrounding the use of artificial methods of birth control, thus providing an opportunity for unorthodox opportunists further to confuse and scandalize the faithful. This "pastoral" Council offered no clear censure of Marxism, which is the greatest evil of our day, and under which millions of Christians suffer. Contrary to Hitchcock's assertion, a traditionalist need not ask that the Council be "repealed." He may, however, point out that it is unlike all other Councils in that it met neither to define doctrine nor condemn errors, and that pastorally, it has been a complete flop. Any "openings" to the modern world to which it gave impetus should be blocked. Subsequent reforms, which have been uniformly catastrophic, should be reversed. The empirical evidence and experiential lessons of recent history support the traditionalist's suggestions. On the last page of the book one encounters a somewhat strange assertion: "Catholicism cannot and should not return to the preconciliar ghetto, in part because the conditions of preconciliar Catholicism were, as the Church's present disarray demonstrates, inadequate for the needs of modern faith." Certainly, one is justified in wondering just what "modern faith" is supposed to be, and how it differs from "preconciliar" faith. We have also come full circle: the present "disarray" is analyzed very brilliantly, and then attributed to the inadequacies of preconciliar Catholicism, while the intervening Council itself emerges absolved from any part in the affair! (Speaking of the '50's, Hitchcock had earlier stated that "perhaps seldom in the history of the Church has the moral and devotional life of both religious and laity been at such a generally high level" (p. 34); besides, his analysis of the present state of affairs draws its force in comparison to the previous state.) In any case it is precisely the deficiencies of pre-conciliar Catholicism (above all, the latent secularism and unbelief of the clerico-religious establishment) which a general Council should have corrected, and which it did not. Even in this passive sense, responsibility for the current malaise must be admitted. Painful as it is, both reason and experience force one to say so.

Much more can be said, but this is a salient quality of Hitchcock's book: his arguments reverberate in ever-widening circles through all the diverse subjects which bear upon his topic. The exceptions to it which we have taken should be seen as an effort to round out and build upon his work, grateful for the intelligence and dignity which inform it. The area in which traditionalists will differ most with him is perhaps one of praxis. Fr. Paul Crane, S.J., in three fine articles commenting upon Catholicism and Modernity (Christian Order, February, March, April, 1980), singles out a passage from Bryan Houghton's Mitre and Crook which is significant in this regard: "Your immediate reaction, along with the overwhelming majority of churchmen, is to save the Church and the Faith will look after itself. Mine, along with a heavy percentage of the laity, is to save the Faith and let the Church look after itself." Fr. Crane then comments upon the danger of automatically adhering to imposed practice "irrespective of the fact that what is now imposed is corrosive of the Faith, which Church practice is meant to preserve and foster," and to which one's loyalty is due in the first place. This caveat is well taken; our prayer is that the Spirit of Truth inform us with the wisdom and fortitude necessary always to act upon it.