The waiting game

The Church in Britain is in stasis. Fears about vocations, clerical abuse, and the inevitable end of this pontificate may test human optimism, but not hope

THE contemporary Catholic Church in Britain has been characterised in a variety of ways: in terms of its social membership, its place in society, its liturgical condition, its participatory decline, and so on. Important as all of these are they fail to capture what, to speak in psychological terms, might be described as its cognitive and affective state.

If one were to put an individual on the therapist's couch, it would certainly be neglectful if one spoke only of social standing and general behaviour when considering that person's condition, and nothing at all about his or her states of knowledge and feeling.

If, instead, one were to consider a social group the matter is yet more complex. States can vary and even when they are widespread, they cannot simply be aggregated. The Church, after all, is not the equivalent of a single person.

Yet it is possible to make some more general remarks about the soul of British Catholicism today. And it is not only possible: it is vital to consider the state of that soul if the Church is to move forward, and discover what it needs to do about its own health, particularly in relation to leadership, education and personal formation. The proper end of human life may well be union with God, but we need to do more than reiterate that. We need to know how far away and in what direction one stands at present, and what the impediments to progress may be.

I am aware that my conclusions may well run counter to the experience and state of mind of some readers. But what I am reporting derives from what I have found over several years of speaking in schools, colleges and universities, to lay groups and priests' councils, to traditionalists and progressives, to orthodox and heterodox. In addition, there are the comments made to me by people who make approaches in response to talks, pieces of writing and broadcasting. The latter, of course, are a self-selecting group showing an untypical degree of interest; even so it is a useful means of discerning the state of the Catholic mind in Britain.

So how does this state of mind appear? Its most significant aspect, I believe, is the sense of people waiting for things to happen. This has several aspects. There is the expectation, continuing for some while now, of the close end of the current pontificate, and a wonder about what will succeed it.

Catholics' criticisms of John Paul II range from friendly disagreement to barely concealed opposition to both the manner and substance of his papacy. Many find his denigration distasteful but still have hopes which they know can never be advanced while he remains in office. More generally, however, there is a feeling that the present state of things is an impediment to moving forward, and that while it endures important issues will remain unaddressed, let alone resolved.

All I would add is the observation that as the Pope grows weaker so his critics grow bolder in expressing their disrespect. There is also increasing uncertainty among more loyal Catholics as to the authoritative status of what emanates from Rome and from other high offices. Petitionary prayers on behalf of the Pope might aptly be extended to seek the well-being of the papacy and of senior church offices more generally. It is perhaps significant in this connection that George Weigel, biographer and deep admirer of John Paul II, began 2005 with a lecture in Washington on the theme "The Next Pope - And Why He Matters to All of Us".

Then there are the concerns of this country's bishops in consequence of the sexual abuse scandals and their fears that further revelations may lie ahead. This anxiety also influences public views of the priesthood. It would be too much to say that trust and confidence have given way to suspicion and dread, but there has been a shift to the extent that there is fear of a collapse of priestly life. In times of plenty, a rigorous shaking out of the seminaries would have been an early move in the process of reform and renewal. Yet the long-term decline in vocations has left bishops struggling to maintain priestly provision.

It is a common feature of admission procedures that raising the threshold for entry actually increases demand since it elevates the perceived value of the sought-after membership. For that to work, however, there has to be significant demand in the first instance and valuing of the position. Success in increasing good vocations is most likely if the standing and the standards of the priesthood are raised. That, of course, needs the cooperation of the laity who have become demoralised and in turn need to be re-enthused about their faith by inspiring leaders.

It should be the aim of diocesan offices to relieve priests of paperwork, and of bishops to make clear that the role of the laity is not to substitute for priestly functions but to be active in parochial activities and lay apostolate.

Just as there are feelings of uncertainty and some confusion about the religious leadership of the Church, so there are also doubts about the rational credentials of the faith. Some readers will be familiar with a version of Catholicism in which personal piety was inspired and deepened by sacramental liturgies that combined aesthetic forms and a rich theology. Alongside this lay a belief in a supernatural order revealed in apparitions, saintly intercessions, miraculous cures, and other mystical manifestations.

One could see these different elements of the same religion as corresponding to two kinds of cognitive need. The first was for a rational foundation for belief, often provided for by versions of traditional arguments for the existence and goodness of God. The second required direct evidence of God and his works, answered by experiences of a world beyond nature.

Catholic faith will not long survive where such mystical sensibility and philosophical theology are purged or even just neglected. St Augustine writes in the Confessions of how God made us for himself and how our hearts are restless until they find him. If that is true, and Catholics can hardly doubt it, then it is to be expected that there are cognitive and affective ways and means of recognising God. We should therefore be open to the idea that both reason and experience are justifications for belief.

Until quite recently this was pursued through writings about Catholic mystics, artists, philosophers and theologians. Those who celebrate and explore the Catholic cultural tradition seem more concerned with ethical, social and political issues. These are certainly important, but the difficulty seems to me that Catholic contributions seem mere echoes of notions acceptable to the secular world, and familiar because of it.

Just as there is a feeling of uncertainty about the future of the institutional Church, so there seems to me to be a sense that people are awaiting a renewal of Catholic apologetics and cultural creativity. In neither case is the mood of expectation accompanied by optimism. Neither, save among the more disaffected traditionalist and progressive fringes, is it marked by despair. From the point of view of the Catholic understanding of Providence that is probably the right demeanour, since the proper response to doubt about the present is not human optimism but religious hope. It is in that spirit that the faithful are waiting and praying for relief in times of trouble.

John Haldane is professor of philosophy in the University of St Andrews and author of Faithful Reason: Essays Catholic and Philosophical (Duckworth, 2004).