A few weeks ago, Bishop Joseph Strickland sent an open letter to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops as the group met in Baltimore for its fall plenary assembly.
It was a remarkable letter in which Strickland accused his fellow bishops of silence in the face of “the false messages constantly flowing from the Vatican under the leadership of Pope Francis,” essentially accusing the Vatican of promoting heresy.
But even more remarkable was the bishops’ response: silence.
Granted, I may have missed an objection here or there, but Strickland’s charges are so grave and so sweeping that one would expect not just a few objections, but a whole boatload of them. For example, he refers to the bishops as “silent shepherds, unwilling to risk speaking up in the face of evil and destructive forces that threaten the Church.” He suggests, in addition, that their actions are reminiscent of Judas’s betrayal of Christ.
Moreover, Strickland insists that the bishops cannot claim to be ignorant of the damage Francis has done:
“There can be no bishop who is unaware of statements that Pope Francis has made that are unambiguous denials of the Catholic faith. For example, Francis has stated publicly…that all religions are a path to God. … How many souls will be lost who will accept his erroneous statement that all religions will lead to salvation? …Every bishop and cardinal should publicly and unequivocally state that Francis no longer teaches the Catholic faith. Souls are at stake!
Stating the Obvious
There’s more, but as you can see, Strickland has put his fellow bishops in a corner. They can’t plead ignorance about what Francis has said and done. Anyone who has paid the least attention already knows about his heretical opinions and statements. Moreover, anyone who can read can see that Francis “is actively opposing the divine truths of our Catholic faith.” All you need is The Catholic Catechism (or the New Testament) in one hand and the “teachings of Francis” (as Cardinal Victor Manuel Fernández calls them) in the other. Francis is plainly and frequently in opposition to Church teachings.
Much of what Strickland says in his letter is obviously true. Why, then, have the vast majority of bishops (at the time of this writing) chosen to remain silent?
Fear, of course, is one possible motive. Numerous priests and prelates who have challenged Francis’s orthodoxy are now unemployed. They have been removed from office, laicized, and in some cases, excommunicated (for examples see here). Such things, along with the possibility of relocation to some chilly, far-away diocese, will certainly figure into some bishops’ calculations.
Others are probably taking a wait-and-see approach in the hope that the whole thing will blow over. They may reason that if everyone maintains silence, Strickland’s letter will soon be forgotten, or else he will be successfully portrayed as a fringe figure in much the same way that Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganó’s critics dismiss him as nothing more than a purveyor of baseless conspiracy theories.
Still others will reckon that the ailing Francis has only a short time to live, and it’s wiser to wait him out and hope that the next pope will be a less divisive figure.
The Spartacus Strategy
In the event of some sort of showdown, it’s difficult to say how things will fall out. It’s possible that many more bishops sympathize with Strickland’s views than is generally assumed.
Nevertheless, many of them may be unwilling to give him the response he desires. Why? Because they fear a schism in the Church more than they fear a few more years under a bad pope. Bad popes come and go, but a schism can last for decades and even centuries. So we shouldn’t automatically assume that those who won’t sign on to Strickland’s “call to arms” are thereby in Francis’s camp.
Speaking of a call to arms, let’s consider a tactic that many Catholics have undoubtedly already considered. Let’s call it the “I am Spartacus” strategy. In the 1960 movie Spartacus, the leader of a slave rebellion and his army are surrounded by the much larger Roman army. When the Romans offer the slaves their lives in exchange for revealing their leader’s identity, three men stand up almost simultaneously, shouting “I am Spartacus!” And within three seconds the entire slave army rises to its feet shouting “I am Spartacus!”
Despite the fact that all the men are executed as a result, the film remains immensely popular. I suspect it has a special resonance for Catholics because Spartacus (Kirk Douglas) is portrayed as a sacrificial Christ-like figure who in the end is crucified.
I’m guessing that many Catholics already envision a scene where a large number of bishops stand up one by one to cast their voice vote for Strickland, to the progressives’ chagrin. Unfortunately, the “Spartacus strategy” is a long shot. It’s the kind of tactic that works well with unionized workers who provide some essential service and are backed by the public and/or other unions who are willing to join their strike. Truckers, teachers, and dockworkers often get what they want. But the Spartacus strategy doesn’t seem advisable for a group of men who on average are past middle age, only meet once or twice a year, and may lack the requisite courage to resist.
An Army, or Eyebrows?
On the other hand, Strickland’s actions are not an oddity. Throughout Church history, saints and prophets have rebuked prelates for their inaction and have called for spiritual warfare against the powers of darkness. The difference between then and now is that today’s bishops are not used to being reminded about the Devil, hellfire, lost souls, and “dying for Christ.” Another difference is that Spartacus raised a rebel slave army but thus far, Strickland seems only to have raised a few eyebrows among the Catholic commentariat.
Although I have reservations about the Spartacus strategy, it has sometimes proved successful. Two instances that come to mind involving religious belief are the mass conversion of Aztec Indians to Christianity following the appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the mass rejection of the Vatican declaration, Fiducia Supplicans by African bishops less than a year ago.
On January 11 of this year, the African bishops issued a formal protest titled, “No Blessing for Homosexual Couples in the African Churches.” The Symposium of Episcopal Conferences of Africa and Madagascar (SECAM) declared that Fiducia Supplicans “has sown misconception and unrest in the minds of many lay faithful, consecrated persons, and even pastors…” The president of the symposium, Cardinal Fridolin Ambongo, maintained that the West had lost the meaning of marriage and framed the Vatican document as an example of “cultural colonialism” — the West trying to impose its values on other cultures.
Surprisingly, Francis seemed reluctant to make an issue of the rejection. Rather, he latched onto Ambongo’s contention that homosexuality is an affront to African culture. Francis observed that criticism of same-sex blessings is “a special case” in Africa because “for them homosexuality is something ‘bad’ from a cultural point of view (and) they don’t tolerate it.” In other words, Francis looks upon Africa as a cultural backwater, but is happy to use the “respect-our-diversity” demand as a way to extricate himself from a difficult situation.
What shall we make of this? And does the African affair throw any light on the Strickland affair? Without pretending to have any definitive answers for the American bishops and for American Catholics (to whom Strickland addresses his final appeal) here are a few things to consider.
Playing the Odds
First, Francis knows how to weigh the odds. And he’s willing to back down when the odds don’t favor him. More Christians live in Africa than any other continent, and Catholics are the largest Christian denomination in Africa. But strength of will is just as important as strength of numbers, and Africa’s bishops seem to have both. They know their faith and they know when it’s being fiddled with. “No blessing for homosexual couples in the African churches” doesn’t leave much room for dialogue. Rather, it calls up memories of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. leading civil rights marchers through choruses of “We Shall Overcome.”
Second, Francis has discerned that the American bishops are, for the most part, company men. They are not singing “We shall not be moved”; rather, they seem willing to dance to any tune that Francis pipes for them, whether it be an Indian rain dance to avert climate change or a rendition of “When the Saints Come Marching In” to accompany illegal border crossers.
Third, the American bishops aren’t getting any younger. The approach of death forces most people to think harder about life after death. Most Catholics likely assume that bishops have less to worry about in that regard than most of us. But, as Strickland keeps reminding his fellow bishops, it’s the other way around. The Apostles’ successors have more to fear because more has been asked of them. And yet, says Strickland, “You who are entrusted with the keeping of souls choose to speak not a word of the spiritual danger which abounds.”
For bishops, this is hard to ignore. Strickland speaks to them directly and personally. They may say nothing in reply, and yet they must realize that a reply is called for. If you were the target of such a letter, and you were convinced of your innocence, wouldn’t you feel compelled to respond? Perhaps one of the bishops — perhaps many — are waiting for a second or third man to stand up and reinforce Strickland’s charges before they can muster the courage to raise their own voices.
‘My Sheep Know My Voice’
Strickland provides some incentive: “Do you not know that our Lord will send forth his avenging angels to heap coals of fire upon the heads of those who were called to be His Apostles and have not guarded what He has given unto them?”
“Avenging angels?” “Coals of fire?” People don’t speak that way anymore, do they? No, they don’t. But Jesus did. So whose do you follow: the voice of Jesus or the wisdom of the day?
Right now, Strickland’s letter may seem to be a dead letter. But not if enough good people respond to its final sentence:
“I ask the faithful to pray fervently that all shepherds find their voices and say with me, “Que viva Cristo Rey — long live Christ the King, Truth Incarnate!”
To bishops of a certain kind, that may sound corny; to others it will sound like a call to action.
This article originally appeared in the December 3, 2024 issue of The Stream.
Pictured above: Saint George and the Dragon Statue in Bratislava
Photo credit: Pixabay
