No, not that crisis, the crisis. The horrors of the past two years are symptomatic of much deeper conflicts and discontents, which largely have their roots in the 1960s. In A People Adrift, Peter Steinfels, a loyal Catholic and a highly perceptive observer of the contemporary church, analyzes these long-term trends in a way that is obligatory reading for anyone concerned with the future not just of Catholicism, but of Christianity in the United States. His predictions for change may or may not prove accurate, the directions he wants those changes to take may be controversial, but the book is the best guide currently available to how this situation came to pass.

Steinfels begins with the observation that "Today the Roman Catholic Church in the United States is on the verge of either an irreversible decline or a thoroughgoing transformation." As he notes, a comment of this sort sounds like journalistic hyperbole, but in 2003, it seems quite justifiable. After the recent abuse scandals, the prestige of the Catholic clergy is at an all-time low. More important, perhaps, is the real resentment that many priests have expressed towards their episcopal superiors. According to critics, the bishops pursued irresponsible policies that allowed clerical molesters to pursue their careers; yet when public pressure became too great, the same bishops adopted stringent new policies that seemed to throw accused priests to the wolves.

Meanwhile, many ordinary Catholics used the perception of deep crisis to advocate their particular causes, which would (they believe) have averted the disaster. Liberals had their particular remedies—if only priests were allowed to marry, or women could have been ordained. Conservatives, too, felt they knew what had gone wrong: the crisis would not have occurred if homosexual clergy had not been tolerated, or if the seminaries had enforced both sexual and theological orthodoxy. What Steinfels terms simply "The Scandal" became a symbolic stage on which different factions could enact their particular scripts. It was depressing to see how predictably each side reprised its familiar role. As Steinfels comments about an earlier conflict, it confirmed a picture of "a church in which, at the leadership level, if not in the pews, everyone was operating on hair trigger, mental muscles tensed to think the worst, ready to perceive a doctrinally cautious appeal for dialogue as a subversive act."

The evidence that the American Church is in serious trouble is not in doubt, though the causes are debatable. Most serious, given the role of the clergy in this tradition, is the shortage of priests. The ranks of priests have thinned since the high-water mark of clerical prestige in the mid-1960s, while overall Catholic numbers have swelled. Today, the ratio of non-retired priests to Catholics is less than half what it was in 1965, and the corps of priests is aging. In 1965, the average age of diocesan priests in diocesan ministry was 45, whereas today it is 60. Many of these older priests may be superb pastors, but inevitably, they will be less in touch with the needs of rapidly changing congregations, especially so given the revolutionary ethnic changes now under way in American Catholicism. Reciting a series of similarly disheartening statistics, Steinfels concludes: "To ignore these indicators would be folly."

What does a clerically centered church do when it runs short of clergy? Does it seek new sources of personnel—most obviously, among women and married men—or does it shift its orientation to increase lay involvement? Or—the present situation—does it do nothing systematic, beyond waiting and hoping that things may change somewhere down the road? Steinfels generally favors the liberal approach to these issues, seeing the ordination of women as inevitable in the long run, and he may be correct. At least for the foreseeable future, though, American Catholics face a massive dilemma that results from the juxtaposition of those two potent words, American and Catholic.

As Americans, they face the pressures toward diversity, tolerance, and sexual liberalism that are so pervasive in contemporary culture, not to mention the deep distrust of traditional authority and hierarchy. Looking at the internal dynamics of the Church, we can reasonably suggest that if we were dealing with an autonomous American denomination, we would have seen married priests by 1970 and women priests by about 1980. But of course the American church is part of a global Catholic whole, and its policies are determined beyond American shores. American Catholics still find it hard to credit that they constitute only six percent of the world's Catholic population, however significant this minority may be in terms of wealth and influence. Ultimately, the decision about (for instance) whether women might be ordained will be determined by global factors, and not by the internal debates of American clergy and laity.

What we have here looks like a collision between an irresistible force and an immovable object, and as long as that nightmare endures, American Catholics will face the tension resulting from demands that cannot be satisfied. To say this is not to predict inevitable disaster, to expect "irreversible decline." Things can change, whether on the side of the irresistible or the immovable. In theory, American Catholics might become more conservative theologically, perhaps as a result of ethnic changes. One of the less noticed elements of The Scandal and the ensuing controversies was the relatively tiny part played by Latinos and Asians, who constitute the fastest growing sections of the American church. Vocations might revive.

Alternatively, the Vatican might, under a new papacy, become much more sympathetic to reform. Even a future pope elected by a conservative phalanx of cardinals might, in office, become a radical reformer. Recall that the epoch-making Pope John XXIII was originally chosen as a harmless papa di passagio, a transitional pope, someone who would occupy the throne quietly for a few years while Church factions prepared for the critical next election. Obviously, it appeared, John was too old and unambitious to make any real changes while in office. Might such a stunning reversal of expectation occur again? In such a scenario, the next pope—perhaps a Latin American or African?—might approve or even initiate many of the reforms now favored by North Americans, and we would enter a dramatic period of transformation.

And then, finally, we have the scenario in which the next pope would be as conservative as John Paul II, or even more so—and yes, that could happen. American Catholics would find themselves ever more out of sympathy with official Church policies, and the Church would face internecine conflicts, accelerating an almost certain decline. But once again, everything depends on a factor that is at present completely unknowable, namely the social and theological outlook of John Paul's successor. Whatever the outcome, the next papal election should be a critical turning point in modern Catholic history.

Though he appreciates the wider picture, Steinfels is restrained about making grand prophecies. He is at his best, perhaps, in tracing the changes of recent decades as they have affected ordinary Catholics in the pews. It is sobering to think that of all the social transformations that Americans have experienced since the Eisenhower years, the radical changes in Catholic liturgical and religious life may have been among the most influential and far-reaching, at least in their impact on a very large section of the population.

In the 1960s, a quarter of the population believed that they could on any Sunday literally and entirely partake of the body and blood of Christ, the Son of God. Many still have absolute faith in that doctrine, but millions more who describe themselves confidently as Catholics see the Eucharist in terms that are largely or purely symbolic. Equally dramatic has been the shift in beliefs about Hell and damnation, a tectonic change that Steinfels intriguingly associates with the 1968 debates over the encyclical Humanae Vitae. Within a few decades, tens of millions of people ceased to believe in the physical presence of Christ in the Mass, no longer accepted a worldview founded on the existence of heaven and hell, and most gave up the ancient practice of Confession—could there be a more sweeping social and intellectual revolution? And how much further could these changes go in coming years?

Steinfels knows better than to try and predict the future in too much detail. He is also wise enough not to let his political and theological preferences lead him into producing a partisan tract. Instead, he closes with a meditation on the Virgin Mary and the Annunciation, and the theme of submission to God's will. Where the Church will really go in the next decade or two, only God knows. Steinfels, like other Christians, knows that this phrase is an expression of confidence, rather than despair.

Philip Jenkins is Distinguished Professor of History and Religious Studies at Pennsylvania State University and the author most recently of The New Anti-Catholicism: The Last Acceptable Prejudice (Oxford Univ. Press).

Copyright © 2003 by the author or Christianity Today/Books & Culture magazine.
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