July 31, 2005
Women, women
One of the things that attracted me to Catholicism -- the reader will recall that I am not a cradle "Dogan", but one of those zealous, irritating converts -- was the Catechism. By this I don't mean one of those wonderful old "penny catechisms" that are taught to children, and which I'll never say a word against. Instead I refer to the great, whacking, Catechism of the Catholic Church, commissioned by the late Pope, and written under the general direction of him and then-Cardinal Ratzinger.
What is so great about it? At first touch, it seems an unworthy successor to the last big and methodical one, the catechism produced by the Council of Trent in the 16th century. It says, the closer one studies, just the same things, but in many more words. At first I thought the "new" catechism (the edition I have is revised to 1999) a bit of a soufflé. Like the money today: definitely worth having, but seriously inflated, and more likely to be printed on paper than struck on silver or gold.
But this turns out to be the virtue of the new thing. The miracle is, that nothing of significance has changed, over more than four centuries. When you see how far judges in the USA can stretch a Constitution that was written only half as long ago, you have to be impressed. A bigger miracle emerges from just such a comparison.
In English that is sufficiently precise to rise sometimes to poetry (English is just one of the book's many languages), the anonymous writers successfully spell out ideas which a mind of the 16th century would not have had as much trouble digesting. This is because Christianity, both plain and applied, was much better entrenched then. Today, more words are needed to explain the obvious.
I love the Catechism not for its moments of poetry, however. Frankly, Shakespeare and the King James Version deliver more of that. I love it rather because the whole thing fits together. Large as it is, and larger for encompassing everything taught by Scripture and the long living experience of the Church, it is free of internal contradictions. And you may believe, with a "devil's advocate" mind like mine, I am always looking for them.
Of course, the thing makes no sense at all if its premises are wrong. And the premise, that "Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again", together with the premise that the Gospels give an essentially true and comprehensive view of the matter, is bigger than any book. It is only given such a mind-boggling leap of faith, that the question, "What do we then believe, in detail?" can no longer be avoided.
The Protestants, too, in each kind, and the Orthodox and other Eastern churches, have also had to confront this question, and have often done brilliant and heroic work upon it. However, if I didn't think the Catholics had got it more right than any of the others -- I wouldn 't be a Catholic, would I?
Last week I wrote (on another page) about the silly spectacle of the "Womanpriests", trying to "ordain" one another on a boat off Gananoque. Since, both this newspaper and my inbox have received an extraordinary number of letters, many of which (especially to me) were quite ugly. From reading them I see there are a lot of people, including cradle Catholics, whose views are vitiated because they haven't the fondest clew what the Church is, or what it teaches.
Now, if you really want to know why the Catholic Church not only refuses to ordain women, but believes itself incapable of doing so even if it wanted to, I recommend that you go to that Catechism of the Catholic Church, and look up "Women, Ordination of" in the index (sections 1577 and 1578). That is not where the journey ends, however, but rather one of many places where it could begin. For once again, the whole superstructure of Catholic belief ties together. And to understand the function of any single part, you must gradually acquire a view of the whole thing, and of its purpose.
It is a great ship, on what we who are aboard most earnestly hope is the Godward voyage. It is a ship which embarked at the Pentecost, about 33 A.D. She has her shape and her engines, and to those unhappy with the design of either, there can be only one message. It's a wide ocean, and you are welcome to swim.
David Warren
© Ottawa Citizen
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