August 24, 410. May 6, 1527. February 15, 1798. September 20, 1870.
The frequency and intensity of writings which predict the end of
religion and specifically of the Catholic Church in the United States
has escalated in recent years. Whether
the cause is, more proximately, the HHS mandate which ignores freedom of
conscience, or the US Supreme Court’s decision regarding the Defense of
Marriage Act, or whether the cause is, more remotely, the court’s
holding in Roe v. Wade or the sexual revolution on the 1960’s,
predictions of the demise of religion abound.
Last week I
had the thrill of celebrating Mass with a small group of pilgrims in the
catacombs of Priscilla in Rome. There we huddled beneath a
second-century painting of the same prayer, the Holy Mass, surrounded by
the tombs of 40,000 fellow Believers. No, the Christians did not hide
in the catacombs during times of persecutions. Everyone knew where the
catacombs were, and so they afforded no clandestine refuge. They were
places to bury the faithful dead, and to honor the martyrs. Some, like
the catacombs of Priscilla, were places to gather to share the Word of
God and break the bread — that is, to celebrate Holy Mass.
Pliny, 156. Decian, 249. Valerian, 257. Diocletian, 303.
As had Herod at its beginning, officials and Emperors throughout
the Roman Empire found Christianity to be a troublesome religion. Its
tenets and practices (charges of “cannibalism” for eating the Body of
Christ at Mass, and an insistence on sexual chastity) made the powerful
in society uncomfortable, and interfered in the prevailing moral
debauchery. Martyrs fell, but the Church did not.
A
walk through modern Rome brings one past the relics of the “ancien
regime” and its antiquities, straight into the churches which proclaim
eternal realities. Alaric in 210, Charles V in 1527, Napoleon
Buonaparte in 1798, Victor Emmanuel in 1870 — with each fall of Rome the
panic renewed that the Church would see its end. Caesars, Emperors,
Kings, Premiers and Presidents have all come and gone, but one personage
reigns through it all: an itinerant rabbi from Galilee has always had
the last word.
The Pantheon of Roman gods is now the
Church of All Saints. The chancery of Napoleon’s government now houses
offices of the Vatican. Mussolini may no longer speak from the window
of a palazzo in Piazza Venezia, but Catholic Mass is still offered every
day in the church of that palazzo. The Mammertine prison which held
Paul and Lawrence and many early Christian martyrs is now surrounded by a
church. No period of persecution has ever been the final chapter in
the history of Christian presence.
Today’s panicked
prophets of doom seem to lack the perspective of history or the
confidence of Divine Providence. Whether the year is 156, or 410, or
1527, or 2013, the promise of Jesus is undiminished that He will be with
us until the end of time, and that the gates of Hell will not prevail.
Whether in the time of Caesars or Emperors, whether in the tenure
of Kings or Presidents, the Church may have had its public influence
curtailed for a time, but the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ has
never been suppressed. Jesus seems to have meant it when He gave His
promises.
Every indication is that history is about to
repeat itself in our own time. The Catholic voice in particular makes
some people of power uncomfortable. Let’s face it, a religion that
doesn’t make some people uncomfortable is probably not of God. A
religion that determines its ideological tenets and moral borders by
observing and following contemporary culture finds its idols on earth
and not above.
The walls are already being built that will
confine the practice of religion in contemporary culture. We will be
free to sing hymns and fall to our knees in prayer within those walls,
but the voice of Believers will be uninvited and unwelcome in larger
society. This is already the growing definition of “freedom of
religion” in our government: pray as you choose, but do so in private,
and do not allow your beliefs and values to follow you into the streets –
leave your prayers and beliefs inside the walls of your church, they
are not welcome in public. Religion is increasingly seen as a purely
private affair. Even nominally religious people profess to believe one
thing in private but refuse to impose it on others in public.
And so I go back to the catacombs of Priscilla every time I am in
Rome. Priscilla, a noble woman, opened her home for the celebration of
the Mass in the early Second Century. This was not done in hiding, not
in secret. It’s just that the Church was not allowed the privilege of
open worship because it offended the values of others. When the
earliest Christians in Rome gathered for the “fractio panis,” the
breaking of the bread, they did so in private. Their influence in
public policy was practically nil. Their voice was uninvited and
unwelcome on the streets and in the marketplace of public opinion.
Those who prophesy the demise of Christianity have one thing
right: we are seeing yet another period of diminished welcome for the
Church and for religious values in general, just as we have repeatedly
through history. The voice of the Church is voice of dissonance in the
public chorus, and so it will be silenced for a time. It makes many
uncomfortable and so it will be confined, taxed, regulated, and
penalized. Whether this is done through administrative rulemaking, or
Court decisions, or statutory provisions, or popular referenda matters
little. But those who say that this is the end of Christianity are
missing the larger picture.
Are you discouraged? Take a
walk through the streets of Rome, past the relics of persecutions. Take a
walk through Rome and look carefully at the reminders of the abiding
presence and promise of Christ. They’re both there, side by side, but
only one of them is still a living presence. Look for Caesar and you
won't find him, but Jesus is everywhere there.
