HeadlineBistro

Is religion headed the way of the dodo bird?

The British press has never really been one to pass on sensationalizing a news story on religion, and yesterday's BBC headline that proclaimed "Religion may become extinct in nine nations, study says," is no exception.

From the article:

The [research] team's mathematical model attempts to account for the interplay between the number of religious respondents and the social motives behind being one.

The result, reported at the American Physical Society meeting in Dallas, US, indicates that religion will all but die out altogether in those countries.

The team took census data stretching back as far as a century from countries in which the census queried religious affiliation: Australia, Austria, Canada, the Czech Republic, Finland, Ireland, the Netherlands, New Zealand and Switzerland.

That's right, all you St. Patrick's Day revelers: the country whose favorite adopted son you toasted to last week is about to give its rich, religious heritage the boot.

Or is it?

In late 2009, a poll commissioned by The Iona Institute found that even amid the economic recession and after the devasting Ryan Report that detailed the extent of the clergy sex abuse scandal in Irish Catholic institutions, church attendance in the country was up. Nearly two-thirds of the population said they attended church at least monthly -- an ever higher percentage than Gallup found among Americans that same year. Likewise, church attendance in Ireland wasn't limited to the older, more traditional generations: Nearly a third (31 percent) of Irish young adults age 18-24 said they attend church weekly, and another 22 percent said they go at least once a month, for a total of 53 percent going at least once a month. That's far above American Millennials' Sunday habits -- by way of quick comparison, when a Knights of Columbus-Marist poll asked Americans age 18-29 how often they attended religious services, 33 percent said at least once a month. Around the same time, another Irish poll found that after family and friends, the Catholic Church leads the pack in terms of organizations people turn to for emotional comfort and support.

So how did these mathematical-turned-social science researchers come to their conclusion? By comparing religion's decline in certain countries to the slow extinction of lesser-spoken world languages. At the heart of that research model, the BBC reports, "is the competition between speakers of different languages, and the 'utility' of speaking one instead of another."

"It posits that social groups that have more members are going to be more attractive to join, and it posits that social groups have a social status or utility," said one of the researchers.

"For example in languages, there can be greater utility or status in speaking Spanish instead of [the dying language] Quechuan in Peru, and similarly there's some kind of status or utility in being a member of a religion or not."

Or, as the paper states, before continuing on with a mind-boggling spread of formulas, graphs and math-speak:

We assume the attractiveness of a group increases with the number of members, which is consistent with research on social conformity. We further assume that attractiveness also increases with the perceived utility of the group, a quantity encompassing many factors including the social, economic, political and security benefits derived from membership as well as spiritual or moral consonance with a group. 

(In case you're curious, here's the formula for "a simple model of the dynamics of conversion":

 
Quick, someone let Augustine know!)

But is attraction to religious belief and practice solely based on numbers? On "utlitity"? Who signs up for RCIA out of concern for popularity, or convenience, or because he heard that thousands of other non-Catholics were about to take the plunge? What about the "creative minority"? What about the vibrant faith communities in regions where Christianity is not only a minority, but is harshly persecuted? Not even the study authors say that theirs is a conclusive explanation of why, when it comes to matters of religion, humans act the way they do.

"Obviously we don't really believe this is the network structure of a modern society, where each person is influenced equally by all the other people in society," one of them told the BBC.

Well, all right then.

First Things' Joe Carter poses an amusing hypothetical:

What is most interesting is that no one seems to have asked the obvious question: If religion goes extinct in societies where non-religious affiliation is more socially useful than religious affiliation, wouldn’t it also follow that religion would reach a saturation point in societies where religious affiliation is more socially useful than non-religious affiliation?

Can you imagine the panic that would result from a conclusive mathematical model that predicted America would soon be 100% religious?

-- Elizabeth Hansen

The WSJ on tween wardrobes

Last month there was the WSJ column by Kay Hymowitz lamenting "Where Have All the Good Men Gone?" Now Jennifer Moses turns her attention to today's young girls, their clothes (or lack thereof), and the post-sexual revolution generation of mothers who are raising them.

"Why Do We Let Them Dress Like That?" Moses asks, after bluntly stating her observations of prom dress season:

Having done this now for two years with my own daughter, I continue to be amazed by the plunging necklines, built-in push-up bras, spangles, feathers, slits and peek-a-boos. And try finding a pair of sufficiently "prommish" shoes designed with less than a 2-inch heel.

All of which brings me to a question: Why do so many of us not only permit our teenage daughters to dress like this—like prostitutes, if we're being honest with ourselves—but pay for them to do it with our AmEx cards?

But rather than concede an easy explanatation -- that it stems from mothers' misdirected urge to bond with their daughters ("It starts with the mommy-daughter manicure and goes on from there") -- Moses goes for the jugular: At blame, she says, is the freewheeling attitude toward sex and love that defined her own formative years and resulted in a generation of mothers now conflicted about their past, "when many of us behaved in ways that we now regret."

We are the first moms in history to have grown up with widely available birth control, the first who didn't have to worry about getting knocked up. We were also the first not only to be free of old-fashioned fears about our reputations but actually pressured by our peers and the wider culture to find our true womanhood in the bedroom. Not all of us are former good-time girls now drowning in regret—I know women of my generation who waited until marriage—but that's certainly the norm among my peers.

So here we are, the feminist and postfeminist and postpill generation. We somehow survived our own teen and college years (except for those who didn't), and now, with the exception of some Mormons, evangelicals and Orthodox Jews, scads of us don't know how to teach our own sons and daughters not to give away their bodies so readily. We're embarrassed, and we don't want to be, God forbid, hypocrites.

Read more at the Wall Street Journal.

-- Elizabeth Hansen

Chuck Colson's "Centurions" and Catholicism

For the greater part of the last four decades Charles Colson has had a towering influence on faith in America. His conversion to Christianity, which came on the heels of his imprisonment for complicity in the Watergate scandal, is now the stuff of legend. A brilliant thinker, who once used his brains to rise in the Nixon White House as a self described “hatchet man”, Colson spent decades building the world’s largest prison ministry and radically transforming the relationship between Catholics and Evangelical Christians in America.

A new Washington Post profile on Colson’s ministry reveals that the aging icon is now concerned about molding “spiritual clones” to thwart the spread of a watered down version of Christianity.

Michelle Boorstein offers an intriguing glimpse into the rigorous, multi-disciplinary program of spiritual formation that aims to replicate Colson’s Bible-based, conservative worldview in future leaders.  Known as “Centurions” these students come from all walks of life and include several prominent members (Bill Redmond, a former New Mexico congressman, Bob Snelling, a former member of the Georgia House, and high-ranking executives such as former Freddie Mac vice president Chris Morris and Documentary Channel Chief Executive James Ackerman are all students in the program).

The aim of the new graduates is to foster an authentic vision of Christ’s message in their communities and places of work. Colson was inspired to create the program by what he considers a growing tendency among many evangelicals to transform Christianity into “a vague word for self-exploration and spirituality.” Boorstein article offers more reason for Colson to be concerned:

“Polls show that young evangelicals are more concerned about poverty and environmentalism than same-sex marriage or abortion and other "sanctity of life" issues. A few months ago, Apple booted an iPhone app for a conservative Christian manifesto that Colson co-wrote called the Manhattan Declaration because the company deemed the document's opposition to gay marriage and other "immoral sexual partnerships" to be offensive. Just one of the original signers was under 40.”

While there are numerous theological distinctions between “Centurions” and Roman Catholics there are certainly points of convergence when it comes to the sacredness of all human life, the sanctity of traditional marriage and the need for a collaborative effort to combat the effects of relativism and the secularizing trends in American society.

Back in 1994 Charles Colson, along with his close friend and collaborator Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, joined forces to forge the joint declaration, "Evangelicals and Catholics Together: The Christian Mission in the 3rd. Millennium." The 25-page document, was signed by 40 noted evangelical and Catholic leaders including Cardinal John O’Connor, Cardinal Avery Dulles, former Ambassador to the Holy See Mary Ann Glendon, and Peter Kreeft. The document read in part:

“In the exercise of these public responsibilities there has been in recent years a growing convergence and cooperation between Evangelicals and Catholics. We thank God for the discovery of one another in contending for a common cause. Much more important, we thank God for the discovery of one another as brothers and sisters in Christ. Our cooperation as citizens is animated by our convergence as Christians. We promise one another that we will work to deepen, build upon, and expand this pattern of convergence and cooperation.”

As these “Centurions” go into the world full of zeal and eagerness to spread the Gospel, they would do well to reflect on this document’s message of unity and mutual respect.

--David Naglieri

The Anchoress offers words of wisdom...

...on the sad case surrounding Fr. John Corapi.

(Catholic News Agency offers a summary of the case here).

-- Elizabeth Hansen

"Of Gods and Men" roundup

Having just arrived in theaters across the United States, "Of Gods and Men" -- which took home the Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival last year -- is drumming up its fair share of mostly positive reviews and reflections on this side of the Atlantic. (Last month I noted how the New York Times review -- while missing the point about what (or rather, Who) could motivate seven monks to lay down their lives -- still couldn't escape the monks' truly compelling Christian witness.)

I finally saw "Of Gods and Men" over the weekend and think it's the type of film that's best digested slowly -- and over lots of conversation with others who've seen it. (The group I was with lingered outside the theater for over half an hour, just sharing our reactions to what we'd seen).That said, if you've seen the film or are planning to, here's some food for thought:

• In today's column on Headline Bistro, Joan Frawley Desmond calls "Of Gods and Men" perfect Lenten fare for its depiction of sacrifice and atonement. One of her insights to the film points out how the theme of community -- both among the monks and between their monastery and the Muslim village it ministers to -- permeates the entire story. "The plot turns on how and why these appealing contemplatives reach their fateful decision," she writes. "Just as their melodious chants affirm a communal, rather than an individualistic dialogue with their Creator, so their discussion remains anchored to a humble discernment of the common good – of both the religious community and the village."

• Steven Greydanus follows up his initial review of the film ("meticulously authentic" in its portrayal of monastic life, "luminously beautiful," "remarkably uncompromising" and "deeply theological and liturgical") with a valuable discussion on "Of Gods and Men"'s treatment of the relationship between Christianity and Islam. ("How Catholic is 'Of Gods and Men'?") In short, the film's approach to the topic is anything but simplistic, and it's especially striking when it comes out of the real-life words of Brother Christian, the monastery's prior, himself.

• Speaking of which, Cardinal Angelo Scola blogged about "Of Gods and Men" late last year after it came out in Europe (yes, the patriarch of Venice has a blog), in which he quotes from Brother Christian de Chergé's spiritual testament, written by the real monk three years before his death. (The entire text can be found here). Calling the testament "one of the most beautiful pages ever written in the twentieth century," Cardinal Scola reflects that "Of Gods and Men"'s cinematic success "reflects a burning desire in the men and women of any latitude to meet the face of God." "It therefore reflects," he contines, "the real need we all feel for authentic witnesses who may help us keep our gazes focused upwards."

• And then there are the reviews, like that of the New York Times, that just don't seem to get it -- or rather, they're moved by the monks' story, but they don't grasp the whole of it. Roger Ebert's would have to be included in this category, as he ponders, "Did they make the right choice? In their own idealistic terms, yes. In realistic terms, I say no. They have the ability to help many who need it for years to come. It is egotism to believe their help must take place in this specific monastery. Between the eight of them, they have perhaps a century of life of usefulness remaining. Do they have a right to deprive those who need it of their service?" (I think Joan Frawley Desmond's column has an answer for Ebert, by way of John Paul II, on why the contemplative outlook of monastic life -- and, really, the Christian life in general -- is anything but utilitarian).

• Another reviewer from a secular standpoint, this time in The Guardian, confesses to being profoundly moved by the film's climactic "Swan Lake" scene -- a "last supper" moment for the monks as they commune together over wine and Tchaikovsky. Peter Bradshaw writes:

  "Beauvois's camera does nothing but pan slowly around the table while this happens, minutely watching these men's careworn faces as they absorb the mystery of their own deaths. It is an overwhelming fusion of portraiture and drama, and perhaps one of the most sensational things I have seen on the big screen. Many who have watched this scene find it overwrought, overdone, and the Tchaikovsky unsubtle. Well, maybe. But each time I have watched it, frankly, I have become overwhelmed with an emotion I can't possibly describe. A friend told me that my face looked like Henry Thomas's when he sees ET come back to life. I am almost tempted to say that cinema audiences should be required to stand during this sequence, like concertgoers during the Hallelujah chorus in Handel's Messiah."

  "Beauty will save the world," Dostoevsky said. On this matter, I think the monks' witness speaks for itself.

• Finally, a contributor at the Jesuit blog Whosoever Desires nails it in this post, noting that "the real genius of Of Gods and Men is that it is a film about love, for that is what martyrdom means."

-- Elizabeth Hansen

Friday's Rule

When I kicked this series off six weeks ago, I began with an excerpt from chapter two of the Rule of St. Benedict on “The Qualities of the Abbot.”  That particular excerpt focused on the abbot’s duty to shepherd his monks – his flock, so to speak.

Later on in the Rule, St. Benedict takes up the subject of the ideal abbot again when discussing “The Election of an Abbot” in chapter 64.

“Once in office, the abbot must keep constantly in mind the nature of the burden he has received, and remember to whom he will have to give an account of his stewardship (Luke 16:2).  Let him recognize that his goal must be profit for the monks, not preeminence for himself.  He ought, therefore, to be learned in divine law, so that he has a treasury of knowledge from which he can bring out what is new and what is old (Matt 13: 52).  He must be chaste, temperate, and merciful.  He should always let mercy triumph over judgment (Jas 2:13) so that he too may win mercy.  He must hate faults but love the brothers.  When he must punish them, he should use prudence and avoid extremes; otherwise, by rubbing too hard to remove the rust, he may break the vessel.  He is to distrust his own frailty and remember not to crush the bruised reed (Isa 42:3).  By this we do not mean that he should allow faults to flourish, but rather, as we have already said, he should prune them away with prudence and love as he sees best for each individual.  Let him strive to be loved rather than feared.

Excitable, anxious, extreme, obstinate, jealous or oversuspicious he must not be.  Such a man is never at rest.  Instead, he must show forethought and consideration in his orders, and whether the task he assigns concerns God or the world, he should be discerning and moderate, bearing in mind the discretion of holy Jacob, who said: If I drive my flocks too hard, they will all die in a single day (Gen 33:13).  Therefore, drawing on this and other examples of discretion, the mother of virtues, he must so arrange everything that the strong have something to yearn for and the weak nothing to run from.”  ~ RB 64.7-64.19

What an incredible model for leaders.  What an incredible model for parents.  (Of course, I offer the same caveat that I did six weeks ago, which is that the relationship of the abbot to the monk is substantially different from the relationship between leader and follower, and parent and child, but there are enough similarities that the comparison holds.)

What I’m particularly struck by is the harmonious relationship between strength and gentleness. 

Hate the faults, and punish them when necessary, but “use prudence and avoid extremes.”  “Let him strive to be loved rather than feared, and “let mercy triumph over judgment.”

But this doesn’t preclude the necessity of tough love: :

 “If a brother has been reproved frequently for any fault, or if he has ever been excommunicated, yet does not amend, let him receive a sharper punishment: that is, let him feel the strokes of the rod.” RB 28.1

Starting to sound a little too extreme?  I don’t think so. I’m not condoning corporal punishment, but imagine a more modern-day approach to strict discipline.  It’s balanced.  As Benedict goes on to say:

“But if even then [the brother who has been reproved frequently for any fault] does not reform, or perhaps becomes proud and would actually defend his conduct, which God forbid, the abbot should follow the procedure of a wise physician.  After he has applied compresses, the ointment of encouragement, the medicine of divine Scripture, and finally the cauterizing iron of excommunication and strokes of the rod, and if he then perceives that his earnest efforts are unavailing, let him apply an even better remedy: he and all the brothers should pray for him so that the Lord, who can do all things, may bring about the health of the sick brother.  Yet if even this procedure does not heal him, then finally, the abbot must use the knife and amputate.  For the Apostle says: Banish the evil one from your midst (1 Cor 5:13); and again, If the unbeliever departs, let him depart (1 Cor 7:15), lest one diseased sheep infect the whole flock.” RB 28.2-28.8

There’s a lot to unpack here, but I think the moral of the story is that people deserve second chances.  People deserve mercy.  People deserve to be dealt with in a way that is at once loving and firm.  Too often we choose either or.  Either we’re so nice and accommodating that we don’t ever try to remedy the fault.  Other times we’re too strict, too firm, and we ignore, we sever, we mistreat, we reproof, long before we should. But Catholics - and St. Benedict - are always about the great "et et"; the both, and.

There comes a time when ties ought to be severed, for the benefit of all involved, but there’s a time and a place for everything.

St. Benedict presents what I think is a perfectly balanced approach. It seems simple and self-evident, but I suspect it’s not nearly as easy or obvious as that.

~ Matt St. John

Quote of the day

"Believers and non-believers stand on different ground, but they must not close themselves in a sacral or secular isolationism, ignoring one another or, worse still, launching taunts or accusations as do fundamentalists on one side and the other. Of course, differences must not be skimmed over, contradictory ideas must not be dismissed, or discordances ignored ... but thoughts and words, deeds and decisions can be confronted, and even come together."

-- Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi, speaking on the Vatican's new dialogue initiative between believers and non-believers. The "Courtyard of the Gentiles" kicks off next week with a cultural symposium of sorts in Paris, including a celebration of the arts in front of Notre Dame Cathedral. I blogged about the project -- and the meaning of its name -- here.

-- Elizabeth Hansen

"The stranger priest from Rome"

The impact of Bishop Hegarty’s message today to Irish emigrants resonated more deeply when I received in my inbox a beautiful poem on the very plight of St. Patrick. The poem was written by an Irish-born American priest who, like St. Patrick, can also be referred to as “a pioneer in an inhospitable climate.”

Newly ordained in Rome, Father James E. Coyle was sent to Alabama in the early part of the 20th century, shortly before a wave of anti-Catholic sentiment swept over the nation. At the time, the revived Ku Klux Klan (a strong political force rebranded as a patriotic fraternity) began targeting blacks, Catholics, Jews and foreigners. It was then that Father Coyle began courageously speaking against the anti-Catholic prejudice in the South, thus becoming a target of attack. Father Coyle met his end at the hand of an angered Klansman -- an end that garnered nation-wide attention when the faithful sought to bring his assassin to justice.

I encourage you to read a more in-depth account on the life of this Knight of Columbus chaplain found in last March’s Columbia Issue. In the meantime, I leave you with the words he left us on the plight of the saint we all love to claim as our own.

“St. Patrick”
By Fr. James Edwin Coyle
Born March 23, 1873
Died for the Faith in Birmingham, Alabama
August 11, 1921
 
I.
Tis Easter morn on Meath’s fair hills,
The sunlight softly falls.
It flashes from her sparkling rills,
It lightens Tara’s walls.
Tis emblem of the heavenly light
Now brought across the foam,
By him who stands in garments white,
The stranger priest from Rome.

II.
Stand all amazed the courtiers brave,
And harpers hush their lay,
As Patrick tells how Christ did save
And wash men’s sins away.
In deep amaze they crowd around,
These chiefs of Inisfail,
As Patrick, first on Irish ground,
Proclaims the gospel tale.

III.
He tells them of the Man-God's love,
And then he leads them on
To mysteries of the heavens above,
Of Godhead, Three in One.
But murmurs, questioning arise,
These chieftains cannot see
“How God,” - with anger flash their eyes-
“How God is One and Three.”

IV.
The saint bends low, the trefoil spray,
The shamrock, from the sod
He holds aloft, by it that day
He proved the Triune God.
The king and all the court cry out,
“Tis true, God's wonderous powers
Fore’er be praised. Lo”- loud they shout-
“Let Patrick's God be ours.”

V.
Thus Patrick, priest and late a slave,
To Erin’s isle did bring
The faith, the living faith to save
Her people and her king.
And soon the pagan temples fall,
And soon, o’er Erin's sod
Fair churches rise, and pillars tall,
To point the way to God.

VI.
The saint has gone. His children, we,
And scattered far away
From that dear land beyond the sea,
Where once he loved to pray.
We love the plant that once did prove
His faith, when o’er the foam
He came. We, too, his children, love
That faith he brought from Rome.

VII.
Our grand old faith: O, Patrick! Saint
Of Ireland, pray that we
May never in the trial faint,
But like our fathers be.
Our fathers, who through centuries slow,
Through Fair or stormy day,
Unsullied kept, mid weal and woe
The faith you preached that day.

Michèle Nuzzo-Naglieri

Drinking with St. Benedict on St. Patrick's Day

Normally I post a quote from the Rule of St. Benedict every Friday – and I will still do that tomorrow – but I couldn’t resist sharing the entirety of this chapter in the Rule today, entitled “The Proper Amount of Drink” in honor of both the occasion and Mr. Heubner’s column – which you should check out.

Everyone has his own gift from God, one this and another that (1 Cor 7:7).  It is, therefore, with some uneasiness that we specify the amount of food and drink for others.  However, with due regard for the infirmities of the sick, we believe that a half bottle of wine a day is sufficient for each.  But those to whom God gives the strength to abstain must know that they will earn their own reward.

The superior will determine when local conditions, work or the summer heat indicates the need for a greater amount.  He must, in any case, take great care lest excess or drunkenness creep in.  We read that monks should not drink wine at all, but since the monks of our day cannot be convinced of this, let us at least agree to drink moderately, and not to the point of excess, for wine makes even wise men go astray (Sir 19:2).

However, where local circumstances dictate an amount much less than what is stipulated above, or even none at all, those who live there should bless God and not grumble.  Above all else, we admonish them to refrain from grumbling.” RB 40

~ Matt St. John

'These people are traumatized by what's happened.'

A common theme in the news reports from quake and tsunami-stricken Japan is the Western observation of Japanese stoicism as a response to such large-scale tragedy.

From the National Post:

Save for the sirens, footage from the disaster is eerily quiet, void of the screaming or frantic verbal outbursts typically associated with calamity. Even now, as the nation braces for a potential nuclear reckoning, pause prevails.

Queues for water and fuel are single-file. Shoes are neatly arranged in the shelters throughout the hard-hit northern Honshu prefecture of Miyagi. There have been no reports of looting, as there were in earthquake-ravaged Haiti or after Hurricane Katrina or in a flood-riddled England in 2007.

... “In Japanese culture, there’s a sort of nobility in suffering with a stiff upper lip, in mustering the spiritual, psychological resources internally,” said John Nelson, a cultural anthropologist and chairman of the department of theology and religion at the University of San Francisco. “There’s even a word for quietly enduring difficult situations: ‘Gaman.’”

Gaman broadly means a calm endurance, and as a cultural concept dates back to the medieval period, when Japan faced a smattering of regime changes, social disruptions, and civil wars, Mr. Nelson said.

And on GlobalVoicesOnline.org, a Japanese blogger relates her experience of being stranded in Tokyo after the quake -- and her awe at the order and calm that prevailed among the grief-stricken masses, despite blackouts, dead cell phone and Internet signals, meager food and shelter, and little answers as to when they could be reunited with their loved ones. At one point, she describes the clear sense of organization at a swamped train station, where exhausted passengers calmly formed themselves into  lines -- who needed to sit during their ride, and who could stand -- as they held out hope for the arrival of a train.

I was also amazed by the composure of the people who were waiting. Most people had spent one night with little more than the clothes on their back. Everyone was hungry, and had not slept enough, and were distraught. The people who were bound north towards Touhoku must have also been worried about their families.
            
I can say this for sure. No other country in the world can maintain that kind of order when so many people surge into a single station. We truly must be proud of this country.   

And yet, as John Nelson, the anthropoligist quoted by the National Post, said, "Make no doubt ... these people are traumatized by what's happened."

Likewise, a Japanese contributor to the New York Times suggests that the "calm chaos" that has struck his region "is perhaps due less to the emotional restraint that is particular to the people of the northern countryside, and more to the hollowing out of their emotions."

"In the vortex of an unimaginable disaster, they have not yet had the time to feel grief, sadness and anger," writes Kazumi Saeki, a novelist who lives in the hard-hit city of Sendai.

Elsewhere, the Times quotes clinical psycologist Susumu Hirakawa, whose background in post-traumatic stress has now led him to advising Japan's Coast Guard. The Japanese people may be known for their sense of resilience and "gaman," he said, but when the tsunami ripped through their neighborhoods, “they could see people dying right in front of them."

"Now there are too many hardships and struggles for them,” he said.

***

In related news: A Litany for Japan

-- Elizabeth Hansen