era?”
“I don’t have a name for myself,” I said, “or for this. I don’t even have a name or a face for God anymore. I just know that I’m being asked to do something. I know it like I know that the sun is out today. I’m not an expert on the Church, but even in my lifetime I’ve seen things change. So I’m wondering, I’m hoping that maybe this might change, too.”
The archbishop lightly pinched the tip of his nose once, then a second time, the closest thing I’d seen in him to a nervous tic. He coughed into his hand, took a sip of water. “The changes you’re referring to were relatively minor things,” he said. “What you’re talking about now is major. Almost we could use the word
gigantic.
”
I watched him lower his eyes to the water glass and work his lips gently back and forth. When he lifted his eyes, they came to rest just to the right of my face. “I’m no expert on the legal system,” he said. “But it seems to me that in the law there are certain procedures, certain fixed rules. Of evidence, for example. Of deliberation for the jury. The fact that people stand when the judge enters, that only the lawyers are allowed to present a case, to approach the bar. Correct?”
“Yes, but I’m not—”
He held up his hand again. There was a bit of command in the gesture, the expectation of being obeyed.
“Those laws are not always sensible, but what they do—correct me if you think I’m wrong—is they allow the system—and it’s an imperfect system, as we all know—they enable it to function. They steer the procedure away from chaos. They allow things to get done.”
“But laws change all the time,” I said. “Women can be judges now, for one example. We can sue for equal treatment at work.”
“Yes, yes, and rightly so. But even that bit of progress has taken how many years? And in a system that claims, what, two centuries of tradition? Our system, that of the Holy Mother Church, claims a tradition ten times as long. Its rules seem antiquated, even insensible to some, but they exist to allow the functioning of the larger body.” The archbishop’s voice softened almost imperceptibly. In a less charming man it could have been taken as condescension. “Despite our recent problems, I know Father Welch to be a good man,” he said. “He spoke with me about you, as I’m sure you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“He did. And, at his word, I know you to be a good woman. We have, as I’m sure you can imagine, a number of people every year who come forth claiming to have received instructions from the Lord. It’s actually fairly common, and we’re trained, all of us who’ve been spiritual directors, in a kind of vetting process. Ninety-some percent of the time these so-called visions prove to be psychological fixations—caused by mental illness, stress, overwork, a craving for attention, an excess of zeal, experiences that aren’t grounded in God at all. The other ten or so percent have legitimate experiences in prayer. I had a conversation with Father Welch about you, it must have been six or eight weeks ago.”
“He never mentioned it.”
“I asked him not to. We discussed that process in your case. I believe he implemented some of my suggestions for, if you’ll forgive me, ‘testing’ the validity of your experiences. There is little question in my mind—and none in his—as to their validity. As to your interpretation of God’s will for you and for the Church, I am less sure, but we could discuss that
ad
infinitum
to no avail. To get to the base of my feelings here, I will tell you simply that I took a vow of obedience. I obey the cardinals and the Holy Father. I respect and obey the laws of the Church, even when I question them interiorly. Am I speaking too indirectly?”
“No, Archbishop. But there have always been priests and archbishops and even popes who challenged the prevailing attitudes. Who broke new territory. John XXIII is the best modern example,
“I don’t have a name for myself,” I said, “or for this. I don’t even have a name or a face for God anymore. I just know that I’m being asked to do something. I know it like I know that the sun is out today. I’m not an expert on the Church, but even in my lifetime I’ve seen things change. So I’m wondering, I’m hoping that maybe this might change, too.”
The archbishop lightly pinched the tip of his nose once, then a second time, the closest thing I’d seen in him to a nervous tic. He coughed into his hand, took a sip of water. “The changes you’re referring to were relatively minor things,” he said. “What you’re talking about now is major. Almost we could use the word
gigantic.
”
I watched him lower his eyes to the water glass and work his lips gently back and forth. When he lifted his eyes, they came to rest just to the right of my face. “I’m no expert on the legal system,” he said. “But it seems to me that in the law there are certain procedures, certain fixed rules. Of evidence, for example. Of deliberation for the jury. The fact that people stand when the judge enters, that only the lawyers are allowed to present a case, to approach the bar. Correct?”
“Yes, but I’m not—”
He held up his hand again. There was a bit of command in the gesture, the expectation of being obeyed.
“Those laws are not always sensible, but what they do—correct me if you think I’m wrong—is they allow the system—and it’s an imperfect system, as we all know—they enable it to function. They steer the procedure away from chaos. They allow things to get done.”
“But laws change all the time,” I said. “Women can be judges now, for one example. We can sue for equal treatment at work.”
“Yes, yes, and rightly so. But even that bit of progress has taken how many years? And in a system that claims, what, two centuries of tradition? Our system, that of the Holy Mother Church, claims a tradition ten times as long. Its rules seem antiquated, even insensible to some, but they exist to allow the functioning of the larger body.” The archbishop’s voice softened almost imperceptibly. In a less charming man it could have been taken as condescension. “Despite our recent problems, I know Father Welch to be a good man,” he said. “He spoke with me about you, as I’m sure you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“He did. And, at his word, I know you to be a good woman. We have, as I’m sure you can imagine, a number of people every year who come forth claiming to have received instructions from the Lord. It’s actually fairly common, and we’re trained, all of us who’ve been spiritual directors, in a kind of vetting process. Ninety-some percent of the time these so-called visions prove to be psychological fixations—caused by mental illness, stress, overwork, a craving for attention, an excess of zeal, experiences that aren’t grounded in God at all. The other ten or so percent have legitimate experiences in prayer. I had a conversation with Father Welch about you, it must have been six or eight weeks ago.”
“He never mentioned it.”
“I asked him not to. We discussed that process in your case. I believe he implemented some of my suggestions for, if you’ll forgive me, ‘testing’ the validity of your experiences. There is little question in my mind—and none in his—as to their validity. As to your interpretation of God’s will for you and for the Church, I am less sure, but we could discuss that
ad
infinitum
to no avail. To get to the base of my feelings here, I will tell you simply that I took a vow of obedience. I obey the cardinals and the Holy Father. I respect and obey the laws of the Church, even when I question them interiorly. Am I speaking too indirectly?”
“No, Archbishop. But there have always been priests and archbishops and even popes who challenged the prevailing attitudes. Who broke new territory. John XXIII is the best modern example,
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