A Crash of Symbols
Piece of Phronesis—Presence of the Real
My reporting for the June 25, 2022 issue of The Tablet, Brooklyn’s Catholic diocesan newspaper, reminded me that only one-third of U.S. Catholics say they believe in the “real presence” of Jesus Christ in the bread and wine consecrated at every Mass. A Pew Research Center study in 2019 found that 69 percent of self-identified Catholics understand the Eucharist to be only a “symbol,” not the substance, of Christ’s body and blood.
This sad finding has helped to prompt the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops to initiate this year a National Eucharistic Revival, with a major campaign planned to teach people what the Church believes and why. I am fully on-board with this effort, which could bring people back to church, rekindle a desire for intimate relationships with Jesus, and boost our outreach to a materialistic society, highlighting a sense of mystery, awe, and the community/communion of love.
While hopeful, I must acknowledge that the three aforementioned goals are clues to the huge obstacles this Revival faces. I fear that, to some unknown degree, confusion about the core of the Catholic liturgy is rooted less in poor catechetics and more in a meta-problem with our culture and today’s frame of mind.
The problem I posit, speaking partly as a devil’s advocate, is this: Today, everything is treated as a symbol. Think back to the landmark “Queen” song, Bohemian Rhapsody, which we discussed in Substack (June 13). The band sings: “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?” and “Nothing really matters.”
I fear we are so accustomed to symbolic words, behaviors, policies, and promises, much of our awareness of reality has been “caught in a landslide.” Advocates for various positions use symbolism and oversimplification to argue their cases, and, before conversations dig too deeply into facts and the intimacy of interaction, many are inclined to shut down debate through cancellations and demonization.
The clouding of shared understanding and common ground is symbolized—there’s that word again—by the statement, “This is my truth.” In an age of virtual participation, manipulated media, and artificial reality, people satisfy themselves too often with taking the “right” stand, presenting images of a happy or meaningful life, and performing pre-defined roles.
For people who have chosen this attitude, or adapted to it, symbols and truth are essentially the same thing. Symbolic gestures become shortcuts to power in the political-emotional arena. Even our colleges, families, and personal development have failed to push us toward a more profound sense of meaning or a long-term vision of ultimate fulfillment.
Some Catholics may even assume that an entirely symbolic view of the Mass is as close to “the truth” as human beings can get. They cannot imagine the rewards of aiming higher.
In such a world, religious practice becomes just another symbol—sometimes a risky, unpopular one. In a Church where too many leaders and followers have proclaimed one paradigm and lived another, we take too lightly our allegiance to clear-cut ideals like the Ten Commandments and the transubstantiation-symbolism distinction.
Our politicians have modeled for us a spirit of hypocrisy that takes the name of “leadership” or “success” or “keeping their promises.”
This is at least a big part of the challenge Catholics will face during the three years of America’s Eucharistic Revival. It is a remarkable irony that a religion often condemned as fictitious, two-faced, or disempowering is now committed to reviving culture at its core. We struggle on behalf of the way, the truth, and the life: the authentically substantial, the community-building power of shared truth and trust, and the soul’s need for liberation from the “false presence” of all who settle for humans as their “gods.”
Chewing on This—Was This Story Right?
The online site for the US National Archives contains a “trigger warning” saying portions of its historical records of America may be found offensive, disturbing, or harmful to certain visitors. So I heard. The speaker’s “warning about a warning” was primarily a rhetorical flourish, using the baggage-laden term “trigger warning” to suggest that today’s heightened sensitivities and emotions may make frustrated folks even angrier toward America or less open-minded about our past.
Here is the text I think the speaker was citing. My conclusion: We should not deem this a “dog-whistle,” warning “America-lovers” about “America-haters” among the researchers rifling through our records. Archivists’ awareness of—and courtesy toward—their audiences do not constitute pandering or surrendering. Such a thought risks further politicizing and polarizing the endeavors of honest inquiry.
The National Archives disclaimers tell us they want to be more sensitive in how they describe or introduce facts, but they also affirm that they want to keep the facts intact; even ugly truths are still truths. These statements are on-target. Of course, in an ideal world, all individuals would approach the information ready to engage with history as familiar and fruitful truth-seeking, not as a danger zone where primary sources might spark hatred, fear, or removal. Let’s continue the study of the good, bad, and ugly so that we can bring more knowledge to the public square, where we hope in-person pursuits of wisdom that will take our fingers off all triggers.
Infokeeper—To Store in Long-term Memory
Another word about the US National Archives and other sources of government information. There are curated treasures of books, studies, and educational materials found at:
· Archives.gov/about/ (National Archives)
· Loc.gov/about/ (Library of Congress)
· crsreports.congress.gov (Congressional Research Service)
· gao.gov/reports-testimonies (Government Accountability Office)
For example, here is one great find: Key Concepts in Philosophy , a substantive book geared for the average reader, available free in PDF format.
Thanks to Quill magazine writer Brad Hathaway for gathering these tips.
Question Period—A Worthwhile Inquiry
Does President Biden say “God protect our troops” a whole lot more than he says, “God bless America”? This week, on July 4, he was about to end his public remarks without saying either of those phrases, but First Lady Jill Biden suggested he say, “God bless America.” He pointed the microphone toward her so she could say it, which she did, and he followed up with, “And God protect our troops.”
Meanwhile, the uplifting and uniting phrase “God bless America” was heard several times, and the song by that name was sung, during the “Capitol Fourth” concert aired Monday night on PBS.
This stood in contrast to Biden’s speech, a separate event, which contained undertones of grim caution about what he called the battle for America’s soul. We occasionally hear him mention souls, and he makes religious references like “for God’s sake,” “keep the faith,” and “spread the faith.” He also cuts and pastes “eagle’s wings” from the Catholic hymn he loves.
While he calls down God’s protection on our troops, a solid and somber message everyone can accept, many of Biden’s speeches are critical of, or less than encouraging toward, other sizable segments of America’s population. No one is questioning our president’s patriotism, and he has said “God bless America” on a number of occasions—not the least of which being his inauguration. But is there something or someone making him less eager to verbally call down God’s blessings on all Americans when that prayer would boost everyone’s spirits?
Huffpost may have foreshadowed one answer to that question in a 2014 article that painted “God bless America” as a mere tactic in presidential speeches. The author said President Nixon stood alone among the nation’s leaders, from Franklin Roosevelt through Jimmy Carter, as adopting the term in a public speech. (President Reagan embraced the term.)
This insight emerged from The God Strategy: How Religion Became a Political Weapon in America. The authors of that 2007 book criticized Nixon’s utilitarian use of the phrase during the Watergate scandal. They also wrote:
“The phrase is a simple way for presidents and politicians of all stripes to pass the God and Country test, to sate the appetites of those in the public and press corps who want assurance that this person is a real, God-fearing American. It's the verbal equivalent of donning an American flag lapel pin: few notice if you do it, but many notice if you don't.”
Just Kidding—Wit Waiting in the Wings
My boss understands that everything is about emotions these days. Tomorrow, I’m going to call in sad.
(Adapted from a remark by Kat Timpf on Gutfeld!)
Image from ClipSafari.com, a collection of Creative Commons designs.