Notice so many spearheading the movement to save our Faith from immanent destruction are under 50, even under 40. Here's an article that explains why.
Here's a snippet (for more read the entire article below). Catholic leaders are saying that:
"Young people are
leaving the Church in droves because of its refusal to conform to the
times!" As a young person, I tell you this is rubbish. It is a
smokescreen. I do not dispute that there are many young, "enlightened"
Catholics who have left the Church with these reasons on their lips.
But they are using these reasons as excuses to mask the real problem:
They have either lost their faith or they never really had it. The
need in this case is not for accommodation, but for conversion. These
young Catholics have never been taught that Christianity is not about
self-fulfillment, it's about self-denial; it's not about worldly power,
it's about humility; it's not about control, it's about obedience; and
it's not about some misguided, gender feminist idea of equality, it's
about Truth.
I Was Robbed!
by Leila Miller
I was robbed.
I am a "Generation X" Catholic, raised and catechized in the tumultuous
aftermath of Vatican II. I was a victim of "renewal" and
experimentation gone awry, and so were my peers. With great regret and
without exaggeration, I contend that the results have been catastrophic
for my generation. It is my firm belief that the overwhelming majority
of young Catholics don't have even an elemental understanding of their
Faith. As a direct result of that ignorance, young Catholics are
leaving the Church in a steady stream (or, dare I say, tidal wave?).
It's not entirely accurate to say that I left the Catholic
Church (though I considered it), but it's clear to me now that for most
of my young adulthood, I was not in the Catholic Church. Let me give
you an overview of my upbringing, which will sound familiar to
countless young Catholics. I was born in the late 1960s into a
believing and practicing Catholic family, and my sister and I were
taught by our parents to love our Faith. Barring illness, we attended
Sunday Mass and holy days of obligation without exception. We attended
public schools, but we were enrolled in weekly CCD classes at our
parish every year.
By the time I began religious education, memorizing the
Baltimore Catechism was out, and feeling the "experience of Christ" was
in. My parish priest, I believe, could not have known how the new,
more "enlightened" philosophy of catechism would affect the moral
development of those in his charge; at the time, he was simply caught
up in the so-called "spirit of Vatican II," and was being obedient to
what were considered Vatican II "mandates." Meanwhile, my parents,
like the other parents, trusted that religious education classes would
teach us the Faith. Sadly, that never happened.
In general, the volunteer CCD teachers were good-hearted
parishioners who probably tried their best with the vacuous material
they were given. Looking back, I can see that a couple of them must
have been alarmed at the "new and improved" methods, and wanted to
teach us the fundamentals of our Faith; for example, one year a teacher
made us memorize the Ten Commandments; another year (9th or 10th grade,
I believe) I heard the word transubstantiation for the first and last
time. Aside from these rare moments, I assure you that precious little
substantive information was imparted to us youngsters; the countless
hours I spent in religious education were missed opportunities.
I can tell you in three phrases the content of a decade of
catechesis: God is good, Jesus loves you, and love your neighbor.
(All very good and true, don't get me wrong, but if you read your Bible
you'll see that that's only half the Gospel. And sometimes half of the
truth is more treacherous than an outright lie.) We were shown a lot
of cartoon slide shows depicting Jesus and his parables, and I have
nice images of multiplying loaves, the Good Samaritan, and Jesus' empty
tomb. I don't remember anything particularly Catholic about the
presentations, aside from a foray into the sacraments when it was time
for First Communion or Confirmation. (But if you'd have asked me to
explain what a sacrament was, I couldn't have told you.)
We weren't taught any Catholic prayers, although we all knew
the Our Father from Mass attendance, and in my case from nightly
prayers. I learned the Hail Mary along the way, but for many years I
knew only the first half. We never discussed the lives of the saints,
or even mentioned their names for that matter. (Sitting at Mass, I
could never figure out who this "Paul" fellow was who wrote so many
letters!)
I am thankful at least that I was born before the last
vestiges of Catholic tradition could be stamped out, and in the 1970s
some of the more pious and beautiful hymns were still often included in
the Mass. Songs like The Church's One Foundation, Immaculate Mary, and
At That First Eucharist were powerful to a child, and they have stuck
with me to this day. The dramatic, colorful Bible story books I read
at home also presented an unshakable image of a just and mighty God and
his glorious and majestic Son. These haunting melodies and images,
combined with my parents' faith and the common themes of my religious
education did instill some important truths in my heart: I never
wavered in my belief in God Almighty and in the Incarnation, Death and
Resurrection of His Son. Just who or what the Holy Spirit was or did
was anybody's guess, although I did recognize that the Holy Spirit was
one of the Persons of the Trinity -- whatever that meant. (I believe
this particular bit of knowledge came from the repetition of another
traditional hymn, which spoke of "God in three Persons, Blessed
Trinity." Since traditional hymns are no longer sung on a regular
basis, I can only surmise that young Catholics today are learning less
than I did!)
I went through my school years believing I was a strong
Catholic -- in fact, as I got older I would often identify myself as
"devout" -- and after my high school graduation I chose to attend a
Jesuit university, in part to increase my chances of meeting and
marrying a nice Catholic man and raising children in a strong Catholic
home. I made many Catholic friends during my years at Boston College,
many of whom were products of Catholic elementary and high schools and
most of whom were, like me, practicing Catholics. Just touching on this
subject brings up many difficult emotions in me, but it is hard to
overstate the tragedy occurring at most Catholic universities across
the country -- namely, the betrayal of parents entrusting a child to a
college that identifies itself as "Catholic" while it allows and even
encourages fiercely anti-Catholic beliefs and practices to permeate the
campus and poison impressionable minds. I do not know one Catholic who
grew in his or her Faith at B.C. Indeed, many who entered Boston
College as practicing Catholics graduated indifferent or hostile to
Catholicism. I assure you that Satan is having a good time at B.C. and
universities like it. Though modern sensibilities may scoff at this
notion, I don't mean it metaphorically.
Anyway, to give you an idea what all of those years of
religious training and formation amounted to, allow me to throw out a
short list of terms that, for my first 28 years, had no meaning to me:
| Sacred Tradition |
Mass Cards
|
Scapular
|
| Sanctifying Grace |
Benediction |
Pentecost
|
| Magisterium |
Act of Contrition |
Four Marks of the Church |
| Sacramentals |
The "Glory Be"
|
Joyful/Sorrowful/Glorious Mysteries |
| Corporal Works of Mercy |
Apostolic Succession |
Four Last Things |
Indulgences
|
Perpetual Adoration |
Spiritual Works of Mercy
|
In my experience, most Catholics of my generation are unable to
explain or even recognize the above. And to follow are some terms that
may sound familiar to my post-Vatican II peers, but that they don't
understand correctly and/or believe for a second:
| Purgatory |
Communion of Saints |
Papal Infallibility |
| Transubstantiation |
Mortal and Venial Sin |
Immaculate Conception |
The attitudes of my Catholic peers are no mystery. Confession? Sure,
great sacrament -- I'll get there one of these years (wink, wink). No
pre-marital sex? No artificial contraception? Yeah right, get real!
Evangelize? Are you kidding? Why? After all, Buddhism, Islam, New
Age, Christianity -- they're all equal paths to God. Who are Catholics
to say they have the truth? A mature spirituality requires the
understanding that everyone can be right!
In general, Generation X Catholics don't feel any obligation
to live as the Church teaches, and I promise you that they do not fear
the fires of Hell, nor do they believe in Purgatory. (But really, how
could they? They've gone to Mass faithfully for decades and never
heard such topics discussed, much less defended!)
The culture we live in is merciless when it comes into contact
with a poorly catechized Catholic. American society today is designed
to destroy one's faith, as objective truth and moral absolutes are
rejected concepts. When modern, "enlightened"
catechesis echoes the messages of the culture, and when those charged
with informing the Catholic conscience and transmitting the Faith take
an "experiential" rather than informative approach, what can you
expect? You can expect exactly what was taught.You can expect young
Catholics who believe "conscience" means "opinion" and you can expect
subjective feelings and personal experience to supplant objective
truth. In fact, the prevailing philosophy of my peers is that there is
no one "truth" -- truth is whatever we want it to be. You have your
truth, I have mine. (Kind of puts the lie to Christ's definitive
statement, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life" doesn't it? It also
doesn't sound like anything worth dying for -- those silly martyrs!)
We reap what we sow, and when pop-psychology all but replaces
sound catechesis the results should not surprise anyone. The practices
and beliefs of my circle of Catholic friends tell a sad story.
Pre-marital sex? Yes, with a series of different partners.
Contraception? Of course -- it's a virtue. Living together, a.k.a.
living in sin? It's a non-issue. (One Catholic friend did go so far
as to find a "compassionate" priest who consented to give her
absolution before she moved in with a man!) Active homosexuality? A
lifestyle choice. Abortion? Sad, and we don't like it, but it's a
woman's private decision -- too bad her partner didn't use a condom.
Most of my Catholic friends attend Mass sporadically or not at
all. Some get their spiritual guidance from gender feminism (which is
a fiercely anti-Catholic movement) and/or New Age philosophies.
Overall, the Catholic call to holiness is an unfamiliar concept to
them, and I do not for a moment attempt to exempt myself from this
scrutiny. Confession is a sacrament that was never emphasized (I made
my first Confession at nine years of age while sitting on a priest's
lap), and after my first couple of confessions during grade school, I
never went back; I shudder when I think of how often I received Holy
Communion unworthily.
So how is it that a Catholic who went to Mass every Sunday and
went through all the proper catechism programs at her church could
continue on unconcerned while carrying several serious sins on her
soul? I do not offer this as an excuse for doing wrong, but you must
understand my actions in the context of what I was taught. My
generation of Catholics grew up with a keen understanding of God's
infinite love for us. We knew that His mercy could not be exhausted,
no matter how badly we behaved. But at the same time, we heard almost
nothing about God's justice. That while God is perfectly merciful, He
is also perfectly just. Somehow, that part was lost, or suppressed. I
guess no one wanted to hurt our feelings with Church teaching; for
example, that by persisting in serious, unrepented sins, we could damn
ourselves to an eternity in Hell.
Jesus said, "Enter through the narrow gate. The gate that
leads to damnation is wide, the road is clear, and many choose to
travel it. But how narrow is the gate that leads to life, how rough
the road, and how few there are who find it!" (Matt 7:13-14) Jesus
mentions Hell over a dozen times in the Gospels, but our teachers and
priests only presented us with the Jesus of the Beatitudes, or the
Jesus who continuously forgave sinners. We were never reminded that
Jesus forgave repentant sinners, those with contrite hearts and the
intention to sin no more.
The God presented to American Catholics today is the Rodney
Dangerfield of gods: He gets no respect. Today, God hardly needs to
be worshipped, since He's our buddy, our pal, our equal. No need to
fear Him or stand in awe, no difficult obligations on our part -- we
need only feel the warm fuzzies He showers upon us, until we die and He
takes us instantly to Heaven.
Such was the image that my generation got of God our Father.
But what would we say of any other father who asks no obedience,
forgives every sin unconditionally and automatically, with no
requirement for an apology or recompense? We would call him a wimp, a
pushover, a sap, a fool. Good and loving parents don't reward bad
behavior and disobedience. They set down boundaries that a child, for
his own good, must not cross. Should that child choose to persist in
disobedience and wrong-doing, good parents don't expand the boundaries
to encompass his bad behavior, they hold firm and hope for his
repentance precisely because they desire his happiness and success.
They do not cease to love him, even as they let him experience the
consequences of his poor choices. Such it is with God and sinful man.
He loves us infinitely, but He cannot force us to love and obey Him
against our free will. None of this was explained to post-Vatican II
Catholics.
Although many of my peers will leave the Church and
Christianity altogether, many will do as I did. That is, I never once
considered forsaking Christianity, nor did I question Christ's divinity
(I felt strongly that to deny Christ would be blasphemous and a
sacrilege). But I was guilty of presumption. I thought that because
of my "deep faith" I could continue in one or another mortal sin and
God would forgive me, or make an exception on my behalf. I just knew
he would respect my "conscience!"
I never did disagree with the Church's stand on controversial
issues such as abortion or homosexuality. I had even heard, almost by
accident, some of the Church's arguments against artificial
contraception, and they made sense to me. I thought the Church was
probably right on this issue (how magnanimous of me!), but of course I
could never be expected to actually go along with this teaching! I did
plan to learn Natural Family Planning one day, sure, but certainly not
now, in my young married years. After all, God understands.
Though I presumed on God's mercy, I still believed in moral
absolutes, and I never went the way of moral relativism; in fact,
another young mother and I spent a year and a half writing an editorial
column for our state's largest newspaper in which we rejected moral
relativism and defended the concept of objective truth. This friend,
Kim, had spent six years as a gender feminist and New Ager, but
motherhood combined with writing our column eventually led her back to
Christianity and into a local Bible church.
(Read Kim's story here)
Kim had been a lapsed Episcopalian and I was a waning
Catholic, so we had never really had religious discussions until then;
but because of my strong belief in an objective right and wrong, I was
attracted to what she was telling me about the Bible church. These
evangelicals stood firm on moral issues and were not afraid of
offending anyone with Christian moral truths. I couldn't say as much
for the Catholic parish I was sporadically attending, where moral
courage was sadly lacking and politically correct sermons and liturgies
were the norm. A Church that sought to blend in with the culture was
not the kind of religious community I wanted. I was raising children
in a scary society, and I needed support from others who believed as I
did and who would be a refuge from the "pagan world." In my disgust
with what American Catholicism had become, I flirted with the idea of
leaving it for the Bible church.
Let me back up here and fill in some details. Shortly after I
graduated college, I became engaged to Dean Miller, a nice agnostic
Jewish boy (so much for my attempts to find a Catholic husband!). My
identity as a Catholic was strong enough that I had come to this
relationship with certain non-negotiables: I would never get married
outside the Church, and any children of mine would be baptized and
raised Catholic. Dean (who, ironically, attended a Catholic high
school) respectfully and unselfishly agreed to my conditions, and we
were married a year later in a Catholic church by my childhood priest.
Over the next four years, I gave birth to three beautiful
babies. As you might imagine, this provided me with any number of
excuses for not going to Mass on Sundays, and almost never on holy
days. Of course, when one does not understand what takes place during
the Mass, it is easy to become lax about attending. During those
years, I lived in two major cities and had done a bit of
"church-hopping," trying to find a parish I liked. I became
disillusioned by the seemingly endless (and lame) attempts to make the
Mass "hip" and entertaining. All of the hand-holding, applauding,
trite songs and political correctness was a monumental turn-off for
me. I felt no reverence, no awe; there was nothing in these Masses to
snap me to attention, to take me out of myself and focus my mind and
heart up to God in His Heaven. I wasn't "getting anything out of it."
(Like so many others, I did not fully comprehend that one doesn't go to
Mass to "get something out of it" -- one goes to worship God.) When I
did get myself to church, I felt as if I were "putting in my time,"
mechanically fulfilling an obligation. I often ducked out right after
Communion.
Because I was raised to never miss Mass, I felt guilty for
skipping it so often (as well I should have, considering the gravity of
the sin!). I half-teasingly blamed Dean for my not getting to church,
but he wouldn't let me get away with such scapegoating. He and I knew
I had no one but myself to blame. Though my actions were inexcusable,
allow me once again to explain my state of mind during these years. I
had grown up in a culture that had, with amazing rapidity and
nonchalance, thrown all of the old value systems out the window.
Nothing was sure and eternal anymore, and it had gradually become
unacceptable to believe in a right and wrong. The idea of sin was
dee
Long-beloved churches will close. Parishes that helped define a
spiritual community will disappear. And parochial schools that once
rang with the sounds of children will sit silent.