The Terror of Catholic Tribalism

Following the advice of Ferris Bueller, I have always tried to avoid any "-isms". This is not because of my desire to be as cool as Ferris, since no one can ever be as cool as Ferris, but because I understand that one should never put the cart before the horse.

Once I love an idea over my neighbor, a sweeping concept at the expense of a particular right, or any abstraction instead of a reality, I have already sold myself out. I am now just playing with words, and I am abandoning the struggle to be good for the convenience of being comfortable.

I have sadly not always followed this advice. When I was a young pup, I assumed that being part of a certain crowd, the more radical the better, would find me a home. As I grew older, I was drawn to all the power and the glory of being a triumphalist Roman Catholic.

I was quickly cured of both delusions, however, because I saw that who I was should never depend only upon being a follower of this or that social group. If the tribe comes first, some people then think that the dignity of the individual comes last. Tribalism, as I define it here, is not the good of the whole, but the contradictory claim that the good of the whole is at the expense of the parts.

As soon as there is an "us", as opposed to a "them", we have a problem. 

Don't get me wrong. I think it good to be radical, not by being an ideological bully or by throwing bombs, but by having the decency to get to the root. That is, after all, what the word really means. 

Don't get me wrong. I think it good to be a Catholic, not by stomping on supposed heretics or strutting about in arrogance, but by serving a universal good. That is, after all, what the word really means.

All people of good will have seen it before, and all people of good will have tried to come to terms with it. When they do not meet the standards of their tribe, they are not comforted, or cared for, or even educated. They are cast out. "Be just like we tell you," they say, "or be nothing at all." Whatever the window dressing, blind conformity is the rule.

I can only speak from my own situation, though years and years of sharing with many other people shows me that this is not an uncommon problem. Don't think, be a drone, and just shut up. The boss, whoever he may be, knows what's best for you.

My own experience with tribalism came mostly from my Catholic faith. Let there be no mistake: I love the faith I grew up in, and I will never abandon the truths it taught me. My problem is always with the bureaucrats, the managers, and the corrupt system that always seems to make some folks better at the expense of making others worse.

"Well," the members of the tribe say, "that's just silly. The Church is always there to serve others!"

Yes, God's Church certainly is, but many, if not even most, of its worldly rulers use this as an excuse to serve themselves. I know this not from any books I have read, or from any blind prejudices I may hold, but from what I have actually seen for myself.

Allow me to offer three examples, each of which made me question a corrupt human institution, even as they helped me cling to God:

1) I was given the chance to earn a PhD in Philosophy at a Catholic university, and I ran with it. I was repeatedly told that this was a wonderful opportunity, that I could become a great scholar, just like all the scholars I already admired.

What they didn't tell me was that my chances of work in the field were next to nothing, and that most graduates never ended up working in academics at all. What they didn't tell me was that I was on my own, and no one would actually help me through the process.

I burnt out fairly quickly, needless to say, and I somehow found work at a Catholic and Jesuit social services agency. I thought this could be a new hope, and a way to apply my faith and my values in a more concrete way.

One day, I made a usual stop at the restroom. I heard a banging, and a sort of yelping, from one of the stalls. I called out, asking if there was a problem, and the noise suddenly stopped. I looked over the top of the divider, and saw a priest, his pants down at his ankles, and a young boy, one who was enrolled in one of our programs, bent over the toilet.

I resisted the temptation to murder that filthy man right there on the spot. He pulled up his pants, and ran out the door. The boy ran out right behind him. I caught my breath, knowing what I had to do, but also knowing that this would be the end of me. I went back up to my office, and the Rector was somehow already there, only ten minutes after it had all occurred.

"I know what you think you saw," he said, "but that's not what actually happened . I'll handle it. Trust me."

I managed to be a man, for once, and reported it that day to the Archdiocese, and to the Boston Police. I never heard back from either of them. When I asked, the Archdiocese called my report "spurious". The Boston Police told me it had all been resolved, and that I should mind my own business.

Ah, the workings of the tribes!

2) When my wife and I were first married, we were like poster children for young Catholics. I struggled to teach as well as finally finish my PhD in Thomistic Philosophy, and my wife struggled to work as a Director of Religious Education at our local parish. I  even took a second, and then somehow a third, teaching job to make ends meet. So much for that Catholic ideal of a just living wage.

They all praised us for our faith, our dedication, and our sense of service. 

Both of us were regularly pursued by Opus Dei to become members. My wife relented, but I didn't. Before I knew it, my wife would express her worry that she was being asked by her new tribe to keep secrets from me.

We kept our heads above water for a while, but that awkward inconvenience of a coming child got in the way. She asked to work part-time, but was quickly let go. The very little I made was now not enough, and we were within a month of being out on the street.

I abandoned my dream of the PhD. I tried to find better work, but I failed every time. I had foolishly painted myself into a corner, as I did not have the business skills of younger folks.

Where was Opus Dei? They advised my wife to leave me, because I was no longer a sufficient provider. I quote word for word from a voicemail they left: "You can easily get an annulment, since he had no means or intention to support you."

Where was the local Church? My pastor laughed at me when I asked for help, not for a handout, but for any assistance to find an opportunity to work.

"Who do you think I am?" he cried. "I'm not an employment service! You've got some nerve!" All those people who praised us for years, telling us how noble we were for serving the Church, were suddenly nowhere to be found. We were no longer useful to the tribe, and now we were expendable.

That same priest later got caught having affairs with married women in the parish. They shuffled him around, and they still pay his bills.

Ah, the workings of the tribes!

3) I actually finished that darn PhD one day, and I thought I could still make something of myself. I applied for hundreds of jobs, and never even got a response at all from any of them. I kept going, and one day I found what I thought I was looking for. Look, the world sometimes does give you what you want!

No, it didn't in this case. The pay, once again, was so poor that I couldn't move my family to live with me for a whole year. No one even bothered to care about that. My wife advised me to quit on my first day there, because no one knew who I was when I arrived; all the people who had hired me a few months earlier had already left or been fired.

I stuck with it, because I still somehow believed in the mission. Within a few months, students would come to me in tears. A priest, they said, one of the inner circle of bigwigs, was sexually abusing them. I advised them to report what had happened immediately. They all hesitated, because they had been raised to believe that the Church could do no wrong, and that they would go to Hell if they spoke out.

I made my own reports, and was given a formal censure for criticizing the administration. I shut my mouth, but the problem only got worse. My colleagues didn't care, not a one, because their jobs, however pathetic, were on the line. "Nick the Dick", as the students called him, would gain the trust of young girls, give them hugs, and then rub his privates on them.

I still beat myself for not having done more. One day, I actually saw, with my own eyes, "Nick the Dick" doing his business with a girl. He noticed me, and immediately pushed the girl away, shaking her hand quite professionally.

You'd think that years of Title IX reports, and my own direct account, would finally fix all of this. Nope. The girls were mentally ill, the Abbot, the President, and the Board of Directors said. My testimony was biased, they said. I was finally glad to throw myself to the wolves. I warned our students in public, on social media, in class, and at every opportunity I could find, to avoid the predator. Of course, I lost the job.

Ah, the workings of the tribes!

I recall the responses of those still part of tribe, of the special social club:

"Well, don't got to Confession with him if you don't like the hugs!"

"It would be a disservice to the Church if we believed these fantastic stories. Let the accusers have their day in court."

"For  the harm one priest may do, it is apostasy to criticize the rulings of the Church."

Ah, the workings of the tribes!

I knew I was no longer welcome in the tribe, when a priest, recognizing me from the school, refused me the Blessed Sacrament at Mass. My son was standing right there behind me, and as we walked away, he asked me if I was in a state of mortal sin. He was raised in the faith, and understood what had just happened.

"I know I'm in a state of mortal sin right now because of my anger. Let it go."

"It's not right!"

"No, it isn't. But they already have their reward."

This is not some rare or exceptional event. My experience is in no way special, but rather quite the norm for many regular folks. Us outcasts tend to find one another; there are many more of us than you might think. I know that many priests, some of whom are in a position of great power, continue to treat people like objects for their convenience, Many more simply go along with it, too afraid to act. I also know that this is the very reason the Catholic Church, as worldly institution, is a dying thing.

There will always be a Church, because there will always be a loving God, and there will always be those who love God. The abusers and players, however, will fall away. It is like this with all things that are true and good.

My family gave almost everything in our lives to the institutional Church. We hope that God will forgive us for wasting our efforts. We hope He knows that we tried to love Him all along, and that we also tried to love each and every one of our neighbors all along, however they may have chosen to live.

It was mighty hard learning to love, when the tribe told me I must hate the other, and even harder when I suddenly became the other that must be hated.

Ah, the workings of the tribes!

Written in 3/2017