Dry
Via People of the Book, an OSV editorial from President/Publisher Greg Erlandson, entitled "Orthodoxy's 'Dry Drunks.'" I really hate wading into Churchy stuff, but I'll make an exception for this one, not because I find it particularly outrageous or wrongheaded, but because I think it worth engaging.
[In many ways, it's a smart piece. Erlandson starts out by making it clear that he's no enemy of orthodoxy:]
"One of the great good fortunes of my life was a providential encounter with a dynamic Catholic editor at a time in my life when I was unsure about my faith and unsure about the direction of my life.
Francis Maier was at that time the visionary editor of the National Catholic Register, and he took me -- a survivor of the Crazy '70s -- under his wing. He introduced me to a faithful, relevant, exciting Catholicism that I had not encountered in many years. He introduced me to Pope John Paul II and Henri de Lubac and Julie Loesch Wiley and Communion and Liberation and a host of other fascinating exemplars of the Catholic resurgence that was taking place in the early 1980s. The trajectory of my life was permanently altered, and I am forever grateful."
[But here comes the but:]
"From the beginning, however, my encounter with what I have called 'dynamic orthodoxy' has been occasionally darkened by the shadow of doctrinaire Catholics who hold all the 'right' positions and say all the 'right' things, yet exhibit an angry, sour attitude that seems the opposite of Christian joy or an evangelizing spirit. They do not so much engage culture as demand its unconditional surrender, and they take greater satisfaction in elaborating on sin and its punishments than on the beauty of the Savior. They tend to be all Inferno and little Paradiso."
[Here we go. To be doctrinaire is to adhere to a theory without much regard for its practicality. It's a pejorative, and understandably so. But there are any number of areas where being a faithful follower of Christ - particularly one adhering to the teachings (doctrines!) of the Catholic Church - is going to require just that: adherence to principle when it seems wildly impractical by many wordly standards. Contraception is just the easiest (if not the most generally accepted) example. Opposition to abortion might be seen as another. Or stem cell research. Heck, St. Thomas More was doctrinaire.
Next up: why put "right" in quotation marks? Wouldn't even dynamically orthodox Catholics grant that the Church, while perhaps not the world's sole repository of truth, at least does not teach falsely? That the Church's positions (and thus, the positions of Catholics who express agreement with them) are in fact right?
Mind you, I'm not about to argue with the man about the existence of angry, sour Catholics. I'm happy (but not proud) to grant that I personally am closer to "angry, sour" than "evangelizing, joyful." But my first question upon reading about such Catholics is, "yeah, but WHY are they angry and sour? Is is just possible that they have some reason for the way they feel?" We'll return to this in a bit.
I'll also grant his point about demanding culture's surrender instead of engaging (and transforming) it, while adding that some other Catholics of this stripe are tempted to simply pull out of the culture altogether and form their own little world. I won't defend this position, but I will say that I can see its appeal, especially when there are children involved.
Finally, I can see why Erlandson might think that such Catholics take greater satisfaction in elaborating on sin than in extolling the beauty of the Savior. After all, sin is what they talk about. But again - why? My personal private theory: because while sin did not go away, those entrusted with the pastoral care of the faithful stopped talking about it. So the grumpy Catholics rushed in to fill the void. Perhaps they were less than professional in the way they went about it. But then, the professionals weren't doing their job.
I was paging through an issue of Human Life Review(!), and came across the following in an article by George McKenna entitled "Criss-Cross: Democrats, Republicans, and Abortion." He's writing about the early '80s:
***
Individual bishops and cardinals, like John O'Connor and Bernard Law, were stalwart in their support, but collectively there was a certain dismissiveness in the way bishops regarded pro-life activists. James Robinson, the bishops' lobbying director, referred to them as "they," "the anti-abortion people," and expressed the hope that some day the US might be able to find an "accomodation" on abortion. Robinson and others representing the bishops were particularly estragned from Republicans in Congress who sponsored pro-life legislation. Robinson complained every time a representative offered an amendment, "they'd like everyone down here to drop what they're doing" and support it. Anyway, he added, most of the amendments "weren't going anywhere" - all the more likely because they weren't getting support from the bishops. Even leading pro-life Republicans in Congress like Senator Jesse Helms and Representative Henry Hyde from Illinois were often snubbed. Wilfred Caron, then serving as the bishops' general counsel, went the length of circulating a memo - later leaked to the press - attacking the Helms-Hyde "human life bill" as unconstitutional...So we had silence, three years of silence, from the bishops after the Democrats had made abortion "a fundamental human right." When the bishops finally did speak, it was in a different key [i.e., the seamless garment]. So abortion was to be folded into the larger theme of "reverence for life."]
***
[Getting back to Erlandson, then.]
Over the years, what I have found unsettling about such characters is that they seemed perversely obsessed with the perversions they decried. They never wrote half so eloquently about the Masses they enjoyed as they did about the Masses they deplored. Chastity was not nearly as compelling a topic as fornication. Heterosexual marriage not nearly as interesting as homosexual agendas.
[Clever, that. But here's the thing: it's rather like the kid who didn't speak until he was four, and then said, "This soup is too cold." When asked why he hadn't spoken earlier, he replied, "Up to now, everything was fine." Oftentimes, people speak up only when there's a problem. It's not necessary an indication of perverse obsession to write about liturgy only when liturgy goes south. Amy Welborn often notes that the dream of many Catholics for their liturgical presiders is "pray and get out of the way." It's only when that stops happening - when the presiders make the first move and 'get in the way' - that many of us feel moved to speak. And if he thinks its particular to grumpy Catholics to find fornication a more compelling topic than chastity, then he needs to get out more. And I'll fight him outright on the hetero/homo thing. One of the hallmarks of the New Orthodox is a delight in talking about the Theology of the Body, which is all about celebrating, even glorifying, what goes on in heterosexual marriage.]
It is no coincidence that many of these obsessions centered on sex. It is probably one of the ironies of our age that we all are enmeshed in the dominant vices of our society -- even when we actively resist them.
[It's hardly an irony of our age. It's a plain fact: people are children of their times, and are colored by their culture. Nice slip-in of "obsessions," by the way. Sort of the way a person who some people might characterize as "a tireless crusader for the rights of the unborn" might be characterized as "obsessed with fetuses" by less sympathetic parties.]
Some folks, however, seem unduly obsessed by that which they claim to deplore.
[Hello, Today in Porn!]
I talked to an experienced priest confessor about this once, and he remarked that the most rigid people he has known often compensate for that one area of their lives that is most out of control. This phenomenon certainly explains the Jim Bakkers, Jimmy Swaggarts and Ted Haggards of the world, and probably a few of our guys as well.
[Well, now, that was a mighty broad brush you just used to slather on that bit of pop-psychology. Even if the notion is true in some cases, you're a long way from explaining the general phenomenon of principled opposition to a particular behavior. Here's another possibility: Catholics talk about sexual issues a lot because sexual issues are where, increasingly and obviously, the Church stands against the rest of the world. Fornication, homosexual sex, pornography, abortion, contraception - all increasingly standard, even as the Church's positions remain unchanged. My father has been waging a steady war on the equation of "tolerance" and "acceptance" with regard to homosexuality on the college campus where he teaches: tolerance and respect are necessary, acceptance and approval are not. Why does he fight this battle? Because he has it out for the gays? Because he's closeted and repressed? No. Because the equation of tolerance and acceptance has been foisted on the community by the authorities, and he regards their actions as wrongheaded and even inimical to the intellectual freedom they espouse.]
But, it was a recent reference to the term "dry drunk" that really got me thinking about this phenomenon. A dry drunk has been described as "a condition of returning to one's old alcoholic thinking and behavior without actually having taken a drink." One writer on the subject said that some people may attend a lifetime of Alcoholic Anonymous meetings and never touch a drop, yet they are "still stuck in their anger, bitterness and resentment at having to make the change in their lives."
[And here's where it gets interesting. I'll grant that there are bitter, resentful Catholics out there. But what are they bitter about? Having had to make a change in their lives? From what to what? What was the parallel to 'old alcoholic thinking'? Pre-Vatican II Catholicism? I hope not. The Council was not a break with what came before; it didn't discard the previous centuries as "alcoholic." The pope's friendliness to the old rite - hello, Motu Proprio - should be proof enough of this. The analogy really needs explaining. I think Erlandson is trying to get at the notion of people adhering to a way of life - Catholicism - without experiencing the requisite internal change - life in the Spirit. But that's not quite the same thing.]
The blogosphere has become a veritable catch basin of these folks. Unedited, unrestrained and unhappy with the state of the Church and the world, they obsessively chronicle every twisted phenomenon, every perversion, every disillusioning anecdote. They fancy themselves proclaiming truth to power -- the emperor is wearing no clothes. The trouble is, they can't take their eyes off the emperor.
[Ah, the professional journalist shows his hand. His first charge against the blogosphere: it's unedited. Horrors! But Mr. Erlandson: the New York Times IS edited. To whom would you rather turn for an accurate picture of on-the-ground grassroots pro-life activities? The Times or the bloggers? As for chronicling every twisted phenomenon - again, is it just possible that they're filling a void, however clumsily? Is it just possible that the mainstream Catholic press has dropped the ball on a number of issues, left a few gaps in its reporting that the bloggers are seeking to fill? And there's that word again: obsessively. If a particular Catholic has a particular beat - the Holy See, for example, or efforts of the Church to combat human rights abuses worldwide - and writes exclusively about that topic, is he obsessive? Or merely thorough, comprehensive, steeped, etc.? But if Joe Catholic Blogger chronicles horrific examples of church architecture, he's obsessive. Granted, there's a difference when what's focused on is the bad news - it ain't healthy to stay grumpy all the time. But a guy can have a blog devoted to crappy church architecture (or porn's incursion into the mainstream, ahem), and still have a varied, happy life outside of that blog. I'm thinking Erlandson needs to consider the blogosphere as a whole as a sort of newspaper, and not expect each blogger to provide wide and varied coverage.]
We have a need for prophets in this confusing time, but I find the most effective ones are those who manifest God's love most eloquently. Pope Benedict XVI is no shrinking violet when it comes to confronting the world. Yet his first encyclical was on love, and his apostolic exhortation on the Mass painted a compelling and positive vision of the Eucharist even as he sought to nudge our liturgical awareness in a more traditional direction.
[No argument there.]
One blessing of my vocation is that I have known so many great Catholics whose words and deeds proclaim their faith in God's merciful love, not their lectures and complaints. It is by their fruits that I have known them.
[A tricky ending. A particularly grumpy Catholic might suggest that this very editorial has a sort of lecturing, complaining character. But a charitable Catholic would surely argue that Erlandson is genuinely interested in the good of the Church, and is trying to address a real problem, in the hopes of bringing about positive change. To which the grumpy Catholic might respond, "Fine. I would appreciate it if he would extend the same generosity of interpretation to me."]
[In many ways, it's a smart piece. Erlandson starts out by making it clear that he's no enemy of orthodoxy:]
"One of the great good fortunes of my life was a providential encounter with a dynamic Catholic editor at a time in my life when I was unsure about my faith and unsure about the direction of my life.
Francis Maier was at that time the visionary editor of the National Catholic Register, and he took me -- a survivor of the Crazy '70s -- under his wing. He introduced me to a faithful, relevant, exciting Catholicism that I had not encountered in many years. He introduced me to Pope John Paul II and Henri de Lubac and Julie Loesch Wiley and Communion and Liberation and a host of other fascinating exemplars of the Catholic resurgence that was taking place in the early 1980s. The trajectory of my life was permanently altered, and I am forever grateful."
[But here comes the but:]
"From the beginning, however, my encounter with what I have called 'dynamic orthodoxy' has been occasionally darkened by the shadow of doctrinaire Catholics who hold all the 'right' positions and say all the 'right' things, yet exhibit an angry, sour attitude that seems the opposite of Christian joy or an evangelizing spirit. They do not so much engage culture as demand its unconditional surrender, and they take greater satisfaction in elaborating on sin and its punishments than on the beauty of the Savior. They tend to be all Inferno and little Paradiso."
[Here we go. To be doctrinaire is to adhere to a theory without much regard for its practicality. It's a pejorative, and understandably so. But there are any number of areas where being a faithful follower of Christ - particularly one adhering to the teachings (doctrines!) of the Catholic Church - is going to require just that: adherence to principle when it seems wildly impractical by many wordly standards. Contraception is just the easiest (if not the most generally accepted) example. Opposition to abortion might be seen as another. Or stem cell research. Heck, St. Thomas More was doctrinaire.
Next up: why put "right" in quotation marks? Wouldn't even dynamically orthodox Catholics grant that the Church, while perhaps not the world's sole repository of truth, at least does not teach falsely? That the Church's positions (and thus, the positions of Catholics who express agreement with them) are in fact right?
Mind you, I'm not about to argue with the man about the existence of angry, sour Catholics. I'm happy (but not proud) to grant that I personally am closer to "angry, sour" than "evangelizing, joyful." But my first question upon reading about such Catholics is, "yeah, but WHY are they angry and sour? Is is just possible that they have some reason for the way they feel?" We'll return to this in a bit.
I'll also grant his point about demanding culture's surrender instead of engaging (and transforming) it, while adding that some other Catholics of this stripe are tempted to simply pull out of the culture altogether and form their own little world. I won't defend this position, but I will say that I can see its appeal, especially when there are children involved.
Finally, I can see why Erlandson might think that such Catholics take greater satisfaction in elaborating on sin than in extolling the beauty of the Savior. After all, sin is what they talk about. But again - why? My personal private theory: because while sin did not go away, those entrusted with the pastoral care of the faithful stopped talking about it. So the grumpy Catholics rushed in to fill the void. Perhaps they were less than professional in the way they went about it. But then, the professionals weren't doing their job.
I was paging through an issue of Human Life Review(!), and came across the following in an article by George McKenna entitled "Criss-Cross: Democrats, Republicans, and Abortion." He's writing about the early '80s:
***
Individual bishops and cardinals, like John O'Connor and Bernard Law, were stalwart in their support, but collectively there was a certain dismissiveness in the way bishops regarded pro-life activists. James Robinson, the bishops' lobbying director, referred to them as "they," "the anti-abortion people," and expressed the hope that some day the US might be able to find an "accomodation" on abortion. Robinson and others representing the bishops were particularly estragned from Republicans in Congress who sponsored pro-life legislation. Robinson complained every time a representative offered an amendment, "they'd like everyone down here to drop what they're doing" and support it. Anyway, he added, most of the amendments "weren't going anywhere" - all the more likely because they weren't getting support from the bishops. Even leading pro-life Republicans in Congress like Senator Jesse Helms and Representative Henry Hyde from Illinois were often snubbed. Wilfred Caron, then serving as the bishops' general counsel, went the length of circulating a memo - later leaked to the press - attacking the Helms-Hyde "human life bill" as unconstitutional...So we had silence, three years of silence, from the bishops after the Democrats had made abortion "a fundamental human right." When the bishops finally did speak, it was in a different key [i.e., the seamless garment]. So abortion was to be folded into the larger theme of "reverence for life."]
***
[Getting back to Erlandson, then.]
Over the years, what I have found unsettling about such characters is that they seemed perversely obsessed with the perversions they decried. They never wrote half so eloquently about the Masses they enjoyed as they did about the Masses they deplored. Chastity was not nearly as compelling a topic as fornication. Heterosexual marriage not nearly as interesting as homosexual agendas.
[Clever, that. But here's the thing: it's rather like the kid who didn't speak until he was four, and then said, "This soup is too cold." When asked why he hadn't spoken earlier, he replied, "Up to now, everything was fine." Oftentimes, people speak up only when there's a problem. It's not necessary an indication of perverse obsession to write about liturgy only when liturgy goes south. Amy Welborn often notes that the dream of many Catholics for their liturgical presiders is "pray and get out of the way." It's only when that stops happening - when the presiders make the first move and 'get in the way' - that many of us feel moved to speak. And if he thinks its particular to grumpy Catholics to find fornication a more compelling topic than chastity, then he needs to get out more. And I'll fight him outright on the hetero/homo thing. One of the hallmarks of the New Orthodox is a delight in talking about the Theology of the Body, which is all about celebrating, even glorifying, what goes on in heterosexual marriage.]
It is no coincidence that many of these obsessions centered on sex. It is probably one of the ironies of our age that we all are enmeshed in the dominant vices of our society -- even when we actively resist them.
[It's hardly an irony of our age. It's a plain fact: people are children of their times, and are colored by their culture. Nice slip-in of "obsessions," by the way. Sort of the way a person who some people might characterize as "a tireless crusader for the rights of the unborn" might be characterized as "obsessed with fetuses" by less sympathetic parties.]
Some folks, however, seem unduly obsessed by that which they claim to deplore.
[Hello, Today in Porn!]
I talked to an experienced priest confessor about this once, and he remarked that the most rigid people he has known often compensate for that one area of their lives that is most out of control. This phenomenon certainly explains the Jim Bakkers, Jimmy Swaggarts and Ted Haggards of the world, and probably a few of our guys as well.
[Well, now, that was a mighty broad brush you just used to slather on that bit of pop-psychology. Even if the notion is true in some cases, you're a long way from explaining the general phenomenon of principled opposition to a particular behavior. Here's another possibility: Catholics talk about sexual issues a lot because sexual issues are where, increasingly and obviously, the Church stands against the rest of the world. Fornication, homosexual sex, pornography, abortion, contraception - all increasingly standard, even as the Church's positions remain unchanged. My father has been waging a steady war on the equation of "tolerance" and "acceptance" with regard to homosexuality on the college campus where he teaches: tolerance and respect are necessary, acceptance and approval are not. Why does he fight this battle? Because he has it out for the gays? Because he's closeted and repressed? No. Because the equation of tolerance and acceptance has been foisted on the community by the authorities, and he regards their actions as wrongheaded and even inimical to the intellectual freedom they espouse.]
But, it was a recent reference to the term "dry drunk" that really got me thinking about this phenomenon. A dry drunk has been described as "a condition of returning to one's old alcoholic thinking and behavior without actually having taken a drink." One writer on the subject said that some people may attend a lifetime of Alcoholic Anonymous meetings and never touch a drop, yet they are "still stuck in their anger, bitterness and resentment at having to make the change in their lives."
[And here's where it gets interesting. I'll grant that there are bitter, resentful Catholics out there. But what are they bitter about? Having had to make a change in their lives? From what to what? What was the parallel to 'old alcoholic thinking'? Pre-Vatican II Catholicism? I hope not. The Council was not a break with what came before; it didn't discard the previous centuries as "alcoholic." The pope's friendliness to the old rite - hello, Motu Proprio - should be proof enough of this. The analogy really needs explaining. I think Erlandson is trying to get at the notion of people adhering to a way of life - Catholicism - without experiencing the requisite internal change - life in the Spirit. But that's not quite the same thing.]
The blogosphere has become a veritable catch basin of these folks. Unedited, unrestrained and unhappy with the state of the Church and the world, they obsessively chronicle every twisted phenomenon, every perversion, every disillusioning anecdote. They fancy themselves proclaiming truth to power -- the emperor is wearing no clothes. The trouble is, they can't take their eyes off the emperor.
[Ah, the professional journalist shows his hand. His first charge against the blogosphere: it's unedited. Horrors! But Mr. Erlandson: the New York Times IS edited. To whom would you rather turn for an accurate picture of on-the-ground grassroots pro-life activities? The Times or the bloggers? As for chronicling every twisted phenomenon - again, is it just possible that they're filling a void, however clumsily? Is it just possible that the mainstream Catholic press has dropped the ball on a number of issues, left a few gaps in its reporting that the bloggers are seeking to fill? And there's that word again: obsessively. If a particular Catholic has a particular beat - the Holy See, for example, or efforts of the Church to combat human rights abuses worldwide - and writes exclusively about that topic, is he obsessive? Or merely thorough, comprehensive, steeped, etc.? But if Joe Catholic Blogger chronicles horrific examples of church architecture, he's obsessive. Granted, there's a difference when what's focused on is the bad news - it ain't healthy to stay grumpy all the time. But a guy can have a blog devoted to crappy church architecture (or porn's incursion into the mainstream, ahem), and still have a varied, happy life outside of that blog. I'm thinking Erlandson needs to consider the blogosphere as a whole as a sort of newspaper, and not expect each blogger to provide wide and varied coverage.]
We have a need for prophets in this confusing time, but I find the most effective ones are those who manifest God's love most eloquently. Pope Benedict XVI is no shrinking violet when it comes to confronting the world. Yet his first encyclical was on love, and his apostolic exhortation on the Mass painted a compelling and positive vision of the Eucharist even as he sought to nudge our liturgical awareness in a more traditional direction.
[No argument there.]
One blessing of my vocation is that I have known so many great Catholics whose words and deeds proclaim their faith in God's merciful love, not their lectures and complaints. It is by their fruits that I have known them.
[A tricky ending. A particularly grumpy Catholic might suggest that this very editorial has a sort of lecturing, complaining character. But a charitable Catholic would surely argue that Erlandson is genuinely interested in the good of the Church, and is trying to address a real problem, in the hopes of bringing about positive change. To which the grumpy Catholic might respond, "Fine. I would appreciate it if he would extend the same generosity of interpretation to me."]
posted by Matthew Lickona | 7:51 AM
8 Comments:
Nowadays I'm probably just as grumpy as the next guy - I'm sure my wife thinks I am - but I see where he's coming from. I don't think I really turned grumpy until I started encountering orthodoxy a few years after my conversion to Catholicism. Maybe it's all justified, of course... Speaking up when things are going wrong, as you say.
But part of me wishes to reclaim the blissful ignorance of my pre-orthodox days as a new Catholic. I have no idea if it's "Christian joy" or whatever you want to call it, but there was a part of me that felt if the mere thought of the Resurrection didn't bring tears of joy to your eyes, something was wrong with you. How could one be grumpy when we have this hope?
And yet, if one believes that the treasures of this faith are being replaced with trash, how can one NOT be grumpy?
The church is Christ's body on earth;
must then all the teachings of the Church always be true? That seems to ignore the fallability and sinfulness of man. Certainly, given our knowledge of our own inadequacies, should we not likewise be skeptical of the claim that the Church is always correct in its thinking?
Man is indeed extraordinarily fallible and sinful. But when the Catechism claims, "Christ is himself the source of ministry in the Church," it's placing the infallible character on Christ (where it belongs). As it says in 889: "In order to preserve the Church in the purity of the faith handed on by the apostles, Christ who is the Truth willed to confer on her a share in his own infallibility." And later, in 891: "The infallibility promised to the Church is also present in the body of bishops when, together with Peter's successor, they exercise the supreme Magisterium." So at least in such cases, it seems, the Church is claiming the authority and infallibility of Christ Himself in its teaching office. That won't stop people from being skeptical, of course, but it does address your concern to some extent. The Church responds: "Yes, man is fallible. But Christ is not, and when the Church speaks in this way, it speaks with the voice of Christ."
I have an idea for a new grumpy Catholic superhero: Bracketman.
Subscribe to The New York Times, Bracketman edition!
Just teasing again, Matthew. Nicely done.
Still waiting on the YouTube WP video, though. And your semiotic profile.
Wow, Matthew, that was quite a dissection! There is much to respond to, and I'm sure it would be a great conversation some time. Suffice to say that my quibble here is not with orthodoxy (or sobriety, to extend my analogy). Rather, it is how orthodoxy makes its case to our world. And Theology of the Body is a terrific example of the right way to do this. TOB is the "dynamically orthodox" presentation that offers the world something different, something positive,something attractive. In fact, that was the genius of JPII.
The "dry drunks" are those folks who, I think, really enjoy the anger. Nattering away in their bomb shelters, they seem to feed on the negativity they ostensibly decry (this happens in many more places than the Church, by the way). They hold all the "correct" positions, but they just preach to the same sour choir.
Don't you find that the people you are most attracted to, those saintly, wonderful, Christ-filled people you want to spend time with and learn from are exactly those who exude a deep, contagious, alluring joy? Aren't they the ones who renew your faith and fire your soul and energize your heart?
At least for this one lowly sinner (and a professional journalist, no less!), these folks help draw me closer to Him. Indeed, they even make the scolds bearable.
Greg
Greg,
Hey, thanks much for stopping by and responding. Yeah, I think it could be fun discussion.
I didn't think your quibble was with orthodoxy, and I absolutely grant your point about the way orthodoxy makes its case to the world. Also about joy being what's really most attractive.
And I wasn't trying to deny the existence of the sours. Really, I think what I was after was giving an alternative account of the sourness. I think some people are too quick to play the "morose delectation" card, that in many cases, the sourness has been a long and painful time in the making. Something was sown, and this is the reaping.
At any rate, thanks again for taking my dissection in such a good spirit. I was in high critic mode, but I tried to keep things civil, and I'm grateful that you responded so generously.
Well, I may see where Greg is coming from, but I stop when he himself gets too sour to be taken seriously, grouping innocent bystanders in his slandering of those who have a different approach from his.
I've seen my share of malcontent orthodox Catholics who are quite happy to jump of the tiniest bit of information to pass judgment on a bishop or on some Vatican official. I've even seen some so orthodox that they just couldn't share the same body with other members, even if it was over a matter of style (SSPX). Yet, these are not the people bringing the Church down, corroding her from within and from without, quite the contrary. Even in their imperfect ways they do galvanize a growing segment of the faithful to stand against those who water down Christ, His teachings and His Church. And truth be said, they're part of the spring-time of evangelization, even if sometimes they come across a tad as zealots.
Interesting discussion - Thanks.
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