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Letter to Harold “Hoot” and Annie Gibson cont. part
15
SHALL WE EAT OUR COOKIES INSIDE THE HOUSE OR OUTSIDE THE HOUSE?
Why, pray tell, are you digging up this ancient history about a war fought more
than a century ago? What can this possibly have to do with the Hootenanny Mass?
Well, it isn’t as ancient as you might think! When I was a boy, in the groovy
sixties and early seventies, an impressionable lad in a Jesuit University, I had
a Latin course with old Fr. Mertz. I loved the class. He didn’t talk about Latin
very much. He mostly talked about how he hated stinking pigeons. “Flying rats!”
He called them. Occasionally he would take a shotgun to the roof of the tallest
building on campus, Metrz Hall, KABOOM! There would be a shower of feathers and
pigeons falling from the sky, like quail in the book of Exodus. He was not going
to let pigeons roost on HIS building. It was a college dorm and when he found
out what went on in that building, it being the early seventies, he wanted his
name taken off it. No luck. It is Mertz Hall to this day. Where was I? Oh, yes.
When he was not complaining about student debauchery and stinking pigeons, he
would reminisce about the Spanish American War, and how grand it was to be a boy
in such an heroic era. It was not that long ago.
The Spanish American War, so called, launched America onto the world stage. The
few who opposed the war and subsequent empire went unheard by those who believed
in the destiny of America was to civilize and Protestantize the world. Empire is
deeply embedded in the American consciousness. Already, in the 1780s, Thomas
Jefferson, awaited the collapse of the Spanish empire: “...‘til our population
can be sufficiently advanced to gain it from them piece by piece.” He also wrote
that, “History, I believe, furnishes no example of a priest-ridden people
maintaining a free civil government,” and, “In every country and in every age,
the priest has been hostile to liberty. He is always in alliance with the
despot, abetting his abuses in return for protection to his own.” Jefferson, who
never freed any of his own slaves, even in his last will, wrote our Declaration
of Independence. He longed for an “Empire for Liberty”. What emerged was an
empire for slavery. The Mexican government welcomed American settlers into
Texas, but required them to swear allegiance to the Mexican constitution of 1824
and practice the Catholic Faith. This meant that they could not own slaves. The
Americans who emigrated into Mexican Texas soon revolted, not so much for their
liberty but for the right to keep their slaves. The independence of Texas soon
led to the Mexican-American War and the annexation of the United State of almost
half of Mexico.
Thomas Jefferson’s name sake, United States Senator Jefferson Davis, later
President of the Confederate States of America, introduced an amendment to the
Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo to annex most of northeastern Mexico. It was not
passed into law. Davis also said, “Cuba must be ours... to increase the number
of slave-holding constituencies.” So we had cast covetous eyes on Cuba and its
millions of potential slaves half a century before we took it. Catholicism and
the United States were on a collision course from the Puritan beginnings and
things escalated to real bloodshed in the first part of the 19th century.
It is hard to believe that anti-Catholicism was one of the founding principals
of this country, but anti-Catholicism is woven into the fabric of the nation.
Few know that the Catholicism of Quebec is one of the reasons that the
Protestant colonies left the British Empire. The Continental Congress, the
founding assembly of the nation, wrote King George, protesting the Quebec Act of
1774 which allowed Quebec to remain Catholic though conquered by Protestant
England. Here is a quote from the Continental Congress’ letter to King George,
“(French Catholics are) fit instruments in the hands of power, to reduce the
ancient free Protestant Colonies to the same state of slavery with themselves.
This was evidently the object of the Act:—And in this view, being extremely
dangerous to our liberty and quiet, we cannot forbear complaining of it, as
hostile to British America...Nor can we suppress our astonishment that a British
Parliament should ever consent to establish in that country a religion that has
deluged your island in blood, and dispersed impiety, bigotry, persecution,
murder and rebellion through every part of the world.” The statement sounds like
it was written yesterday by those who hate the Church for her opposition to
abortion, and the other moral hot button issues of our time, I can hear a few of
my more progressive friends saying “Amen! Preach it brother!” at the words,
“blood (shed)...bigotry, persecution, murder.”
Virulent anti-Catholicism has never left American politics, from then until now.
By means of the invasion of Mexico, the government of the United States extended
slavery into Catholic lands where it was already forbidden. Slavery was
abolished by Hidalgo in 1810, and was formally abolished after the revolution in
1821. As the beginnings of empire stirred America, anti-foreign and
anti-Catholic sentiment continued to grow. The American Party, better known as
the “Know Nothings” because of their secrecy, was a reaction to German and Irish
Catholic immigrants.
The movement originated in New York in 1843 and soon spread to the rest of the
country. In 1836, the publication of
Maria Monk's “Awful
Disclosures of the Hotel Dieu Nunnery in Montreal.” It told of the lascivious
conduct of Catholic nuns. It was a runaway best seller even though it was shown
to be pure fabrication shortly after publication. The civil war saw a lessening
of formal attempts to restrict Catholicism in the US. Catholic immigrants fought
on both sides of the conflict, and people who had never met a Catholic in their
lives found themselves in the trenches with them and saw no visible evidence of
horns, cloven hooves or tails. But the prejudice continued. The Ku Klux Klan
renewed anti-Catholicism in the 1920s. In 1929, my parents were married in
Little Flower, Catholic Church in
1929 built in 1925 in Royal Oak, Michigan, a Protestant suburb of Detroit. Two
weeks after it opened, the Ku Klux Klan burned a cross on the church lawn.
I grew up surrounded by anti-Catholicism. My Aunt converted to Catholicism when
she married my Uncle back in 1930. Her Aunt Olivia never quite forgave her. I
remember Aunt “Ollie” explaining to me that nuns were at the “service” (remember
it’s a family column) of priests who entered convents via secret tunnels. If a
child resulted, it was baptized and then promptly strangled and buried in the
aforementioned tunnels. In my old age, I discovered that this is an exact quote
from Maria Monk’s bestseller. In 1960, I was being fed a line of anti-Catholic
drivel written in 1836.
Catholic were inferior beings in the Chicago suburb where I grew up. Jews were
not welcome at all and Catholics were merely looked down on. I was not allowed
into the home of the family across the street because I was a Catholic. I
remember my friend going in to get a glass of water. I couldn’t come in, because
I was Catholic, but I could wait and he would be out in a few minutes. I have
vague memories of his congregationalist mother once weakening and bringing me
some cookies and lemonade out on the sidewalk. That was in 1955. In 1955, there
were still enough jerks around to make a child feel less because of his
religious affiliation. Can you imagine what four hundred years of cookies on the
sidewalk did to the American Catholic consciousness? It made eating the cookies
inside seem really important.
American exceptionalism flowered in the first and then the second world wars. We
were cowboys to the rescue, then we went on to rescue Korea and then Vietnam and
Laos and Cambodia and Lebanon and Granada, with a valiant attempt to get some
other people to rescue Cuba, then we changed our minds, and then we decided to
rescue Kuwait and Iraq and now we are rescuing Afghanistan. But in 1960, we were
fresh from rescuing Europe and South Korea, and we could do no wrong and America
was the envy of the world, or so we thought.
We Catholic Americans had finally arrived when Joe Kennedy finally triumphed.
His boy, Jack, was elected the first Catholic president of the United States.
The Boston Brahmins would have to let us into their country clubs now! I was 10
years old in 1960. John Kennedy was President and John XXIII was pope and he had
just called for an Ecumenical council. To be American and Catholic was to be on
the top of the heap. The future was going to be wonderful. Perhaps now the
neighbors would invite me to eat my cookies inside instead of on the sidewalk.
To be both American and Catholic was no longer a problem. was as exceptional as
any red blooded American!
We had been the Catholic Church in America. Now people talked about the American
Church. Three years later, both pope and president would be dead, but by then we
were acceptable. American Catholicism and American exceptionalism had somehow
fallen in love in those three years. That acceptance had come at a fearful price
that few noticed at the time. The old Puritan prejudices died hard. It was
doubted that a Catholic could be elected president of this Protestant nation.
John Kennedy tackled the problem head on in his address to the Greater Houston
Ministerial Association on Sep 12, 1960. He said “I am the Democratic Party's
candidate for President who happens also to be a Catholic. I do not speak for my
church on public matters; and the church does not speak for me. Whatever issue
may come before me as President, if I should be elected, on birth control,
divorce, censorship, gambling or any other subject, I will make my decision...
in accordance with what my conscience tells me to be in the national interest,
and without regard to outside religious pressure or dictates. And no power or
threat of punishment could cause me to decide otherwise. But if the time should
ever come -- and I do not concede any conflict to be remotely possible -- when
my office would require me to either violate my conscience or violate the
national interest, then I would resign the office; and I hope any conscientious
public servant would do likewise.”
He won the election. So a Catholic could be elected if he promised that he would
follow his conscience, but not his faith. He said that he happened to be
Catholic. Therein lies the problem. He happened to be Catholic. I do not happen
to be Catholic. I choose to be Catholic, because I think it is the truth. |