Celebrating the Annunciation with mixed metaphors

Ouside the element of surprise common to all of them, there would not seem to be much overlap between the Pearl Harbor attack, the recent firing of an amateur theologian from an administrative post in Wisconsin, and the Feast of the Annunciation of the Lord.

But perhaps there is more overlap than meets the casual glance.

I do recognize that "one of these things is not like the others, " in that the Annunciation changed the course of history, and the other two events are trivial by comparison.

Still, anyone as inclined to whimsy as I am can find a golden thread that links these disparate events. I think that thread is a phrase attributed to Howell Forgy.

Wikipedia says Forgy was a Navy chaplain at Pearl Harbor on the morning of December 7, 1941. As a lieutenant (j.g.), Forgy served aboard the USS New Orleans, and is credited with rousing his shipmates to respond to the attack by coining the morale-boosting phrase, "Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition."

The attitude captured by that phrase, while too obviously and uncomfortably martial for some environments, must nevertheless be recommended to any Christian under attack.

It is hardly necessary to reiterate that attacks are not always with munitions and do not always come from prop-driven aircraft in Hawaiian skies, but I'm going to repeat that anyway, for the sake of a segue into spiritual warfare, and one contemporary bishop's response to teaching that was scandalizing some of the more vulnerable sheep in his flock.

The pundit "Diogenes" has a reputation for pondering Catholic controversy with the jaundiced eye of a bandolier-wearing bandito in a Spaghetti Western. Writing about the noticed-in-some-circles firing of a recalcitrant pastoral associate described as doctrinally "off base" by the bishop of Madison, Wisconsin, he makes an important and much larger point:

"To some Catholics, after all, it matters whether or not the Church is right about what she teaches -- in fact it matters more than whether the person who conveys the teaching is lovable or not -- and the same Church insists Catholics deserve sound teaching as a right, not as a favor bestowed according to the whim of their pastors. [Bishop] Morlino has defended this right."

A followup post about the dismissal of one Ruth Kolpack from her churchly employment sheds additional light on the subject: "After her firing, Kolpack protested that "the Scriptures are my foundation," but in her thesis for a Master's of Dvinity degree ["Inclusive Language for Naming God: Challenge for the Church"] she would have us remember that [in her opinion] the Scriptures include a "patriarchal bias and androcentric traditioning process that can fundamentally distort the revelatory good news of salvation." A fundamentally distorted foundation [!]. Any questions, class?"

(Fr. Z has answers)

Yes, that "Institutional Goliath Squashes Plucky Feminist David" storyline soothes like a lollipop when you're the one holding a pink slip and a slingshot. Metaphorically speaking, Kolpack probably thinks her difficulties with Catholic teaching and mainstream scriptural exegesis comprise a noble (not to say spirited) defense of women going back to Eve. "God is acting...to free God language from the captivity of patriarchy," she asserts, even while opining in the same thesis that claims to absolute truth can be manifestations of "religious evil." Her tolerance for irony is greater than my own. And there was more to Kolpack's dismissal than her misguided thesis (the Curt Jester offers a fine after-action report).

Still, the dominant narrative of Kolpack as victim deserves a closer look: As a pastoral associate and a pillar of her parish, Kolpack was in a position to influence other Catholics, especially youngsters who looked to people like her for religious instruction. Consequently, her views were public rather than private, and offered under cover or color of authority.

When, in response to complaints from several people, her bishop decided to "praise the Lord and pass the ammunition," that ammunition -- which consisted in part of her 52-page thesis -- was readily available. It was also defective. That Kolpack now complains because her bishop did not offer to debate her point-by-point marks her as a scholarship winner in the "Doug Kmiec School of Self-Important Discourse."

Hey, I can be as much of a Pharisee as the next person. I know the signs. But that pride stands in marked contrast to the humble attitude of the "Second Eve" -- Mary, mother of the Lord.

If you think of Christmas as a great feast that commemorates when God established a divine beachhead on what had become (since The Fall) "enemy-occupied territory," then the fiat with which Mary answered the Angel Gabriel ("Be it done unto me according to your word") can also be understood as a first-century version of "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition."

The metaphor only goes so far (Jesus as a round chambered in the womb of Mary? God the Father as a cosmic sniper drawing a bead on Satan? Please! A trip to the confessional is probably in order).

The caveat, then: There are good reasons why it makes more sense to be an unspecified "instrument," rather than a cartridge, a shell, or a bullet, for God. Overweening fondness for loosing the "fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword" can only end in tears, when all who presume martial purpose realize too late that God is also "trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored." Result: the grapes are juiced and the vintners are out of work.

The one stupid line in the Marines' Hymn is its assertion that if the Army, Navy, and Air Force ever look on heaven's scenes, they will find the streets are "guarded by United States Marines." Like heaven needs guards, or Michael the Archangel and his faithful legions didn't write the original book on How to Open a Can of Whoop-Ass.

Arms are for hugging, as the hippies used to say, although one hesitates to rely on that advice, either, seeing as how it came from a generation enamored with what Ben Wiker calls "Ten Books that Screwed Up the World: And 5 Others That Didn't Help."

All that said, we must also remember that on this mortal coil where the default position of the church militant can only be described as "besieged," spiritual warfare is real. Moreover, Satan does not hesitate to use confusion as a weapon.

With that in mind, the best approach to controversy in the church (and elsewhere, too) can be found in the humility modeled for the rest of us by Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. "Do whatever he tells you," says Mary of her divine son, at the wedding in Cana and down through the centuries.

Humility, per the fathers of the Church, is key to the Feast of the Annunciation celebrated today, when (as a beautiful web site reminded me) "The Son of God became the Son of Man so that the sons of men might become the sons of God.”

Love gets all the press, and deservedly so, but if you think about the chain of events initiated by Mary's humble "yes" to the proposition relayed to her by the Angel Gabriel, you can make a better-than-fair case for humility as the hinge or linchpin of human history. With it, we live. Without it, we die.

Hence the words of a hymn called "Magnificat," as sung from Mary's point of view to the familiar tune of "Amazing Grace."

All nations now will share my joy;
For gifts God has outpoured,
This lowly one has been made great;
I magnify the Lord.

For those who fear the Holy One,
God's mercy will not die.
Whose strong right arm puts down the proud,
And lifts the lowly high.

Those stirring words provide more than a hint of why I'm with Howell Forgy (and also, I fervently hope, with Mary and Joseph and Jesus).

Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition!