Op.Ed.?

Almost 50 years ago - on September 21, 1970 - The New York Times inaugurated its "Op. Ed." page. Literally "opposite the Editorial Page," it was intended to contribute "toward stimulating new thought and provoking new discussion on public problems." The idea was to add to the paper's regular columnists "two or more contributors six days a week, writing on the widest possible range of subject matter and expressing the widest possible variety of opinion." At the time, my Marxism professor, an old Weimar intellectual, one of many such refugees whose presence at that time enriched the City College faculty and New York's Upper West Wide, remarked that the Times was now becoming interesting to read!

With characteristic self-importance, the paper proclaimed that day that it was creating "an intellectual forum from which, to paraphrase Terence, nothing will be foreign that relates to man and his society." While I would agree with my old professor that the op. ed. page made the Times more interesting, I doubt I would ever have ascribed to it the degree of importance it continues to claim for itself!

So what to make of the current controversy about Senator Tom Cotton (R-Arkansas) and his infamous "Send in the Troops" op ed, initially posted on-line on Wednesday and originally scheduled to appear in print on Sunday. The article apparently set off a firestorm of opposition within the Times itself, initially prompting Opinion Editor James Bennet to defend his decision to run the piece, a position he and the paper have been in retreat from ever since. Apparently it has been quite a controversy within the Times, a controversy that has spread outside because it fits so stereotypically into the contemporary "culture war" between those whom Times writer Bari Weiss has labeled the "wokes" and the "liberals."

Like most people my age, I am more likely "liberal" than "woke," and I worry when exposure to ideas and opinions that differ from one's own is perceived as threatening rather than challenging, when ideas and opinions (and their authors) are to be cancelled rather than responded to and rebutted. That said, only the State is ever constitutionally prohibited from abridging free speech. All of us draw the line somewhere at what we will listen to or read,  what we deem worthy of being taken seriously or responding to - whether because the opposing idea or opinion is factually false or because it is morally abhorrent. Media platforms are no exception, although given their greater social significance (especially in the case of the Times), how broadly or narrowly that line is drawn, how inclusive or exclusive the limits of acceptable speech,  really does matter. The original aim of the op. ed. page, to expose us to "the widest possible range of subject matter and expressing the widest possible variety of opinion," so that "nothing will be foreign that relates to man and his society," remains valid and important - maybe more now than then in our polarized, tribal culture in which most people increasingly expose themselves only to ideas and opinions that they already agree with.

That said, however, while allowing unfamiliar or uncomfortable ideas to be heard has its place, that was not necessarily the case in this instance. Senator Cotton is, after all, a United States Senator (seen by some also as a potential presidential aspirant some day). As such, he already enjoys a position of immense power and importance and can easily express his views and publicize them to his heart's content. There is no need for an Op.Ed. page to promote the ideas and opinions of people like that, in effect enhancing his already powerful platform. Even if his views were not factually questionable or morally abhorrent, even if his views were more morally palatable, he would have no need of precious space on the Times' platform to make his case. By all means, the Times should be ready and willing to allow different voices to be heard on its pages. Ideally, they should actually contend with each other on those very pages. And, just as candidates for elective office often benefit and become stronger candidates from having had to respond to serious opponents in party primaries, learning to listen to ideas and opinions to which one objects and learning to respond substantively to them (not just express negative feelings about them) will often make one a better advocate for one's cause, while better understanding why others think differently. (One of our greatest problems right now is the inability of many people on either side of our tribal divide to understand at all how and why people they disagree with think the way they do.)

A well edited op.ed. page can contribute greatly to diversifying our public debate and who participates in it. But to do so the value of an op. ed. page is precisely in creating space for those on the other side of the balance of power, those who might otherwise have a harder time getting a hearing. 

(Photo: Avalon/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)

The Past, Present, and Unknown Future of Frequent Communion

65 years ago today, I made my First Holy Communion (photo), preceded the day before by my First Confession. I have often recalled those momentous events of grace and joy in my young life, but our recent and current experience of the suspension of so much of our public sacramental life due to the present pandemic invites further reflection. Frequent Communion (and Confession) as we have known and experienced them in my lifetime have largely been historically unique, distinctly 20th-century phenomena, which have set the era which is now ending apart from most of previous Church history and so likely may not be a realistic guide to whatever it is that lies ahead. 

When I made my First Confession and Communion in 1955, the Church seemed to be generally moving in an upward direction - up in numbers and up in its adherents' increasing intensity of observance. A lot had happened to contribute to this - not least the trauma of the Second World War. Here, however, I will focus solely on the changes in sacramental practice surrounding Confession and Communion.

It was Pope Saint Pius X (1835-1914, Pope 1903-1914) who is generally credited with making frequent Communion a 20th-century papal priority. Of course, it had always been deemed desirable, at least on some theoretical level, for the faithful to receive Communion frequently. Practice was clearly another thing, but the prayers of the old Roman liturgy clearly were written with more than just the celebrant's Communion in mind. Indeed, the Decree on Frequent Communion, issued under Pius X in 1905, was titled Sacra Tridentina, because it began by citing the Council of Trent's expressed desire that all present at each Mass should communicate sacramentally (Session 22, "On the Sacrifice of the Mass," chapter 6). Common practice, however, was, as I said, quite another thing. This was what Saint Pius X sought to correct. And, over the course of the 20th century, the movement he fostered largely succeeded.

So, by the time I made my First Communion, 50 years after Sacra Tridentina, we were more or less being socialized in Catholic school to receive as often as possible. Of course, one had to be in the state of grace (hence the increase in confessions in the mid-20th-century), and one had to be fasting (hence the mitigations in the fasting laws, first to facilitate afternoon and evening Masses in 1953 and then universally in 1957). And, of course, there were those occasions, such as funerals when Communion was by custom still simply not distributed. And I can remember attending weddings in the late 1950s, when I could legally have gone to Communion (since more than three hours had passed since I had eaten breakfast), but did not do so, nor did anyone else do so who was not in the wedding party. 

By the 1960s, more and more people were going to Communion more and more often. Also Communion was increasingly being given at the proper time in the Mass - instead of before or after or (as was widely the case where there were numerous priests on hand to help) while Mass itself was going on, beginning usually right after the Consecration. More and more, Communion came to be seen as the normal thing to do at Mass. Meanwhile, the post-conciliar drop in Mass attendance left still coming to Church those more committed and so more disposed to frequent Communion, while the equally unanticipated drop in confessions corresponded to a change in attitude about what constituted an obstacle to worthy communion. (Meanwhile, it may have been forgotten that in explicating what represented a "right intention" for receiving Communion frequently, Sacra Tridentina had explicitly ruled out "routine.")

The increase in confessions earlier in the century had obviously been a by-product of all those Communions. It seems highly unlikely that people suddenly started sinning substantially more in the 20th century. But confession had become the thing which one was expected to do in order to receive Communion. So when, all of a sudden, people started receiving Communion so much more frequently, then they  evidently expected to go to confession more frequently too. Then, after frequent Communion had become the norm, even routine, an alternate mindset developed about sin and confession, so that, by the end of the century, confessions were, once again, a much rarer part of the average Catholic's practice, even though the thing that had increased confessions earlier in the century - frequent Communion - continued.

Saint Pius X and those who followed him on the Frequent Communion bandwagon were acting out of the best of intentions. And, by the standards of, say, 1960, they had succeeded. But then, when unexpectedly everything changed later in that decade, more or less all that was left of the pre-conciliar religious revival was routine Communion. It is that latter expectation that has survived into the 21st century, at least in those places where priests and Masses remain sufficiently abundant to allow for it. In much of the rest of the world, of course, Communion is rare because of the increasing insufficiency of priests and Masses.

Then came the Great Pandemic of 2020 and the suspension of so much of the Church's public sacramental life, precisely in those places privileged enough until now to enjoy a relative abundance of priests and Masses, thus creating a brief but important moment of eucharistic equality around the globe.

Now, once again, in many parishes more and more Masses are again being celebrated with congregations present in person and not just via the internet. While there may be many aspects of personal attendance that are attracting people back to church after this hiatus, one of them clearly is the opportunity to receive Communion. In fact, some returnees have explicitly expressed the view that it is being able to receive Communion again that attracts them to return. Given the importance which frequent Communion acquired in the 20th century, this seems utterly unsurprising. But it also highlights once again the discontinuity between the 20th century Catholic experience of frequent Communion and that of previous centuries, not to mention the present discontinuities between different parts of the Catholic world.

A somewhat different perspective was expressed by Dr. Anthony Fauci in a May 26 interview with America about what to consider when reopening churches for congregational worship. Speaking of Holy Communion, he said, "I think for the time being you just gotta forestall that." While Fauci himself is surely old enough to remember when many attended Mass without going to Communion, I suspect that for many of his hearers, formed in the 20th century spirituality of routine Communion, the idea must seem somewhat strange.

But the present pandemic probably has accelerated the process by which if not everything then at least many things that we have gotten accustomed to taking for granted in the 20th century will be very different in the 21st. And that will certainly include how we go to church and what may be or not be routine.

The Poison of Deep Grief

O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies.
But in battalions! 
(Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5)

In Shakespeare's Hamlet, the killing of Polonius produced insanity in Ophelia and an insane desire for revenge in Laertes. In 2020 America, the murder of George Floyd has likewise unleashed long pent-up rage which has plunged our already devastated and conflicted country into an analogous poison of deep grief. The grief is deepest, of course, for the direct victims of institutionalized violence, for their families and friends, and for the African-American community in general, which has endured this for so long. Beyond that, however, there is the deep grief of an entire society, suffering from this self-perpetuating poison of racial and communal hatred.

Particularly poisonous too has been the scandalous manipulation of religion in the service of power, domination, and control, exemplified in the decades-long unholy alliance between one political party and a poisonously politicized deformation of American religion and Christian faith. Hence the righteous religious grief expressed by Washington's Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde in response to the use of the famous Saint John's Episcopal Church across the White House for a profane presidential photo-op, preceded by institutionalized violence against peaceful American citizens in Lafayette Park. Hence the righteous religious grief expressed by Washington's Catholic Archbishop Wilton Gregory in regard to the presidential photo-op at the Saint John Paul II National Shrine:

I find it baffling and reprehensible that any Catholic facility would allow itself to be so egregiously misused and manipulated in a fashion that violates our religious principles, which call us to defend the rights of all people even those with whom we might disagree. Saint Pope John Paul II was an ardent defender of the rights and dignity of human beings. His legacy bears vivid witness to that truth. He certainly would not condone the use of tear gas and other deterrents to silence, scatter or intimidate them for a photo opportunity in front of a place of worship and peace. 

As we thankfully reopen our churches and shrines to the public, it is good to remind ourselves why we have sacred places, what they represent, and how easily religion can be misused.

Photo: The President and First Lady pose outside the St. John Paul II National Shrine (CNS photo/Tom Brenner, Reuters)

Trumpocalypse (The Book)

"Over the past four years, I have thought and spoken and written about Donald Trump almost more than I can bear. You probably all feel the same fatigue. We are all just exhausted with this worthless man." So writes former Bush speech writer and author of the phrase "Axis of Evil" David Frum, now a passionate "Never Trumper," in Trumpocalypse: Restoring American Democracy, an appropriately named apocalyptic sequel to his 2018 Trump book, Trumpocracy: the Corruption of the American Republic. More than most "Never Trumpers," Frum has faced up to the fact that Trump represents the fulfillment of what he had once supported: "I came of age inside the conservative movement of the twentieth century. In the twenty-first that movement has delivered much more harm than good. ... It is long past time to correct course."

Frum covers a lot of familiar ground in his depiction of Trump's monumental failures as president (even before they were amplified by the pandemic) - maybe more so than necessary given the book's likely readership. What is of some significance in his critique, given his presumed audience of similarly minded conservative "Never Trumpers," is his scorn for the Republican Party he once worked for. "As the Republican Party becomes ill adapted for political competition on equal terms, it has redefined its political goals. Instead of thinking how to compete in cities, how to reach the religiously unaffiliated, how to appeal to nonwhites, it invests its energies in the brutal project of preventing those groups from voting."

Frum fully recognizes, however, how the opposition could still lose the kind of people he is writing for: "The great Democratic challenge entering 2020 is that the tone and style of much of progressive politics offends large numbers of Americans who have had their fill of President Trump."

Diagnosticians of our American malaise abound. A more fruitful course is the proposing of possible reforms, which Frum attempts to do. Some of his suggestions are obvious attempts to correct our country's increasingly undemocratic character. He wants to mandate the release of a candidate's tax returns, to abolish the filibuster, to grant statehood to the District of Columbia, to pass a new Voting Rights Act "that addresses the abuses of the present,not the memories of the past." He also wants to reduce gerrymandering and depoliticize law enforcement.

Most importantly, however, he wants to overcome the seemingly intractable tribal division of American society. He reminds his readers that as recently as 2006, Republican Mitt Romney supported universal heath insurance and that as recently as 2007 Bernie Sanders opposed immigration reforms he saw as likely to undermine American workers. Referencing those two perennial issues in conflict, he points out that "Ultra-polarization" has prevented both parties from consolidating their most sought reforms.

Frum's bottom line here is that "If Democrats want to perpetuate their health-care reforms, they must do a better job of solidifying  a sense of national belonging. If Republicans want to safeguard the border, they must offer a better deal to those living on that border's American side."

This appeal to a renewed notion of national solidarity that can accommodate the concerns of both tribes depends, he believes, on transcending the "boomer" generation's heritage of "expressive individualism," which has "severed the bonds of solidarity between citizens."

Neither extreme end of the American political-social spectrum will find fulfillment in Frum's agenda. But, if (as seems likely) the next President is a pre-Boomer moderate Democrat, disposed to nostalgia for a less polarized post-war America as an alternative to Trump's apocalypse, then Frum's proposed reforms offer a sound starting point for that constituency to get beyond mere nostalgia and move forward to retrieve that pre-Boomer unity in a sufficiently forward-facing fashion.

A Nation in Flames

I am old enough to remember the urban riots of the late 1960s, which devastated Detroit and Newark, among other once great American cities. As so often happens with intractable problems, the 1967 riots led to a Presidential Commission, the 11-member National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders. Commonly called the "Kerner Report"  (photo), the Commission's findings, released early in 1968 famously said: "This is our basic conclusion: Our nation is moving toward two societies, one black, one white—separate and unequal."

At the time the only aspect of that formulation that seemed questionable was its use of the present progressive tense, whereas the present perfect indicative might have been more accurate: Our nation has been two societies, one black, one white—separate and unequal. One need not agree with the ideological extremism, for example, of the NY Times' "1619 Project," to appreciate that the U.S, has always been a racially divided and unequal society. And, while one can affirm that considerable progress may have been made to overcome this history, the reality of division and inequality along racial lines remains - reflected right now in the disproportionate deaths of African-Americans in this pandemic and in the murders of African-Americans like the one that has triggered the current disorders in Minneapolis. These serious symptoms of a profound social sickness have periodically produced inflammations in the familiar form of the social disorders the Kerner Commission tried to respond to more than 50 years ago and the social disorders on display in our country this past week thanks to our evident failure to respond justly and wisely in these intervening 50 years.

The race-related conflicts of the 1960s were a belated coming to terms with the unfinished mission of the American Civil War. Having won decisively on the battlefield, the U.S. had then failed to follow through on its victory, had failed to enforce the 14th and 15th amendments, and had thus allowed the detestable ideology it had ostensibly defeated to reassert itself victoriously for yet another century. The race-related conflicts we are witnessing today represent the continuance of that thus-far inconclusive struggle to defeat that still pervasive ideology, an ideology still deeply entrenched in American social structures and institutions and in one of our political parties.

Like the forest fires fed by the curse of climate change, the flames currently devouring American cities will burn out. But, like climate change, their underlying cause continues to pose an apocalyptic challenge to a morally leaderless society careening carelessly from one self-induced calamity to another.