“And He answered him to never a word . . .” (Mt. 27:14)

We recently journeyed through Holy Week, the pinnacle of the liturgical year, in which the Church draws us into a sweeping sequence of defining moments in salvation history: Our Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem; His righteous indignation toward the moneychangers in the temple; His betrayal at the hands of Judas; His institution of the most Holy Eucharist; His Passion and death; the silence and anticipation of Holy Saturday; and ultimately the profound joy of Easter Sunday. There is much to be contemplated in Our Lord’s words, actions, and even inactions during this critical week; there is also much that can be misconstrued.

One of the most striking details of the Passion and death of our Lord is undoubtedly His silence before Pilate and the crowd; His complete acceptance of mockery, torture, and ultimately the most utterly unjust death imaginable. The prophet Isaiah describes Him as “like a lamb led to slaughter or a sheep before shearers, He did not open His mouth.” Is it then the case that, since Our Lord chose to remain mute at such a crucial juncture, silence must therefore be the most noble response in the face of injustice, accusation, or conflict? Is speechlessness necessarily Christlike?

Such a gross oversimplification collapses under the slightest familiarity with Our Lord’s ministry prior to His Passion – three years of teaching hard truths with striking clarity, answering earnest questions with charity, and responding to accusations and objections directly. Just days prior to His via dolorosa, Our Lord is found in the temple, driving out the moneychangers, bellowing the harshest rebukes. Silence is not, in itself, “Christlike”; it is often not the appropriate response in a given situation. Indeed, there are many circumstances in which silence is itself unjust.

The word communicate is derived from the Latin noun communicare, which means ‘to share, impart, or make common.’ Its root is closely related to the Latin munus, which is translated as ‘duty’ or ‘gift.’ The etymology of these terms is telling: it reveals a key truth about the importance of dialogue for the survival of any human community. By honestly sharing or imparting information, we are actually fulfilling a duty that we have to one another – and, when done well, it becomes a gift to the community as a whole.

The most basic element of any human relationship is communication – the sharing of information, ranging from a practical, impersonal exchange to much more meaningful, personal dialogue. Dialogue is not a luxury, but a vital human need, especially in the midst of conflict. The degree to which we are willing to engage in difficult and uncomfortable conversations is often proportional to the degree to which we value that relationship. By engaging in dialogue – especially dialogue that we find unpleasant – we are actively showing the other that at least to some extent, we care about the relationship and desire healing.

It is not the couples who are constantly fighting that are truly failing, but the ones who have resigned themselves to the status quo of a deteriorating relationship by refusing to engage with one another, as if they are completely indifferent to its future. St. Augustine has been credited with saying that “the man who is lost in his passions is less lost than the man who has lost his passion.” It is the silent treatment, not the shouting match, that most severely damages a marriage. Though constant argumentation can erode a relationship, argumentation itself is a sign of life which suggests a possibility of healing and restoration. The moment that argument ceases entirely is often a relationship’s true time of death.

Whether silence is truly the most virtuous response in a particular circumstance can be judged based upon how well it serves the common good. Especially in a parish community, the common good of the parishioners ought to be the litmus test for all pastoral decisions. When the legitimate concerns of parishioners are ignored, or when accusations arise that have not been clearly substantiated, or when disciplinary measures for a select few have resulted in the suspension of a Mass for the entire congregation, the common good of the parish is certainly not being upheld.

The life and role of a priest is difficult, and the crosses he carries are often unseen. The dignity of his vocation cannot be overstated, and as his spiritual children, we owe him respect, gratitude, and support. At the same time, because of the sheer weight of his responsibility, he is also accountable in a unique way, since his spiritual fatherhood makes him responsible for the formation of many souls. For this reason, it is crucial that priests, like all the faithful, are called to accountability – the recognition of personal faults and limitations, and an authentic commitment to improve. As mature Catholics, we should recognize that demanding accountability does not pose a threat to the respect we owe to our priests, but rather that accountability and respect operate in tandem. Both are essential to a healthy and virtuous personal and ecclesial life.

The tradition of the Church is built on intentional and precise symbolism, and as such, she has certainly not granted our priests the title of “Father” superfluously. Our priests, like our natural fathers, are responsible for the formation and spiritual nourishment of their spiritual children. At minimum, natural fathers are legally and morally obligated to provide their children with shelter, food, clothing, and protection from danger; spiritual fathers are also morally and legally obligated by canon law to provide for the spiritual well-being of “the faithful entrusted to him” (Code of Canon Law (1983), Canon 529 §1).

Yet we recognize that children need and deserve much more than the bare necessities. To become healthy adults, they must have relationships with their fathers marked by trust, presence, and communication. When conflict inevitably arises, a father who withdraws, withholds explanation, or imposes punishment without clarity does not foster growth, but estrangement. Such an approach does not promote understanding, healing, or restoration, but further strain on the relationship. Likewise, when a spiritual father responds to difficulties by withdrawing his pastoral care or withholding basic communication from his spiritual children, the result is not correction but disorientation. The faithful, like children, cannot respond effectively to concerns that have not been clearly expressed to them.

Today more than ever, it is imperative that our parishes serve as spiritual homes and as a reprieve from the chaos and instability of the world. We are right to expect tension, unforgiveness, and power struggles in the world, and we are also right to expect more from our parishes – but only insofar as we first expect more from ourselves. As Catholics, we are called to hold ourselves to a higher standard, and to encourage one another toward that same standard. What good is a Catholic community if it is not actively helping its members become better Catholics? It is a waste to have a parish community that settles for coexistence at a merely functional or administrative level, rather than striving to develop real, authentic community which often brings moments of tension and growth.

For a parish community to truly flourish, we must first be clear about our respective roles and responsibilities as parishioners and leaders. We must also commit ourselves to transparency and to a basic presumption of goodwill. Without this foundation, conflict will inevitably escalate in counterproductive ways. Within the Church, parishioners can come from a wide range of different backgrounds, states of life, and different stages in the spiritual life, yet two truths remain constant for every individual who will ever occupy our pews: each is a sinner, and each is an infinitely valuable child of God, endowed with an unchangeable dignity. We may share little else in common, but these two realities are more than sufficient to create a strong foundation for a community oriented toward the same goal.

We can only become people capable of forgiveness by exposing ourselves to situations in which forgiveness may be needed – both in giving and receiving it. Without making ourselves vulnerable to being wronged and to wronging others, we rob ourselves not only of meaningful relationships and community, but also of the opportunity to learn what our Lord means when He calls us to forgive one another. Ignoring this command is likely more spiritually dangerous than we realize. Without learning how to forgive our brother, the reality of God’s forgiveness of our own innumerable sins becomes far less tangible to us, and we can become increasingly desensitized to the incredible gift of His mercy.

May we grow in the wisdom we need to become the men and women our Lord has created us to be, and may we learn to speak with honesty and conviction, listen with sincerity, and to forgive and to ask for forgiveness with humility. Familia Sancta, ora pro nobis!

“And Jesus knowing their thoughts, said to them: Every kingdom divided against itself shall be made desolate: and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand. And if Satan cast out Satan, he is divided against himself: how then shall his kingdom stand?” (Mt 12:25-27)

Much is said of ‘unity’, but little has been said of what unity is, other than simply being the antonym of ‘division.’ It is a pertinent question, particularly relating to the all too familiar circumstances of division brought on by what is appropriately called ‘parish drama’. Is it so simple as to blame the presence of two liturgical forms in a single parish, or even under one rite? Can all this be reduced to the tension between tradition and change? The argument could be made, but there seems something more practical at work here, something more applicable to the well-meaning, involved, and (before long) confounded parishioner who is left in a state of shock and disbelief over the behavior he so frequently witnesses in parish committees and councils, and in those inexplicably impenetrable ‘inner circles’ of parish politics. The phenomenon is sadly at variance with the true heart of a parish.

It is a fallen world that has turned away from its heart, and a fallen man who has turned away from his. The heart of something is its center, around which all parts of a thing orbit in unending fixation. The heart and soul of a man are rightly spoken of synonymously—it is the essence they describe, and the essence of men depends upon a choice. His choice answers the question of ‘why’ he exists at all. There are many choices out there trying to pull us into their orbit. We are subjects after all, and all subjects require an object. In this sense, we are subjective beings whose nature it is to seek objectivity. The only thing really worth drawing oneself to is the true object of being, of every being. One might imagine the vast distances of outer space so filled with dead planets and endless moons, massive stars exploding and shrinking and acting out in all sorts of lifeless ways, while there remains here upon earth the very humble, and very present answer for life amongst all this magnanimity of matter. The forces of nature met in the perfect balance of distance and tilt and fire and ice, and so there walked upon lush gardens the feet of men. There are many dead planets upon which we could fix our gaze, many unbeating hearts to make our own. In the Catholic Church, we choose the heart that has given us life—that Sacred Heart for which all shall inescapably long forever. Needless to say, it is right that we take it seriously.

But of course, when anything is taken seriously amongst we clumsy creatures stumbling around in the dark, there is bound to be conflict. Conflict is born of attachment. We speak of both these words as though there were an inherent evil in them, but in fact this is only the nature of being a subject, as are so many things, not least of which is division. If there is a truth, then there is falsehood; true division is the distance between them. Just so, those who turn toward the truth and away from falsehood are light divided from darkness. Without division, we profane, but the division must be true. And so if we can accept that a Catholic parish is one that truly divides from the darkness and its ministers, and turns toward the heart entrusted to its tabernacle, then amongst its people, there truly belongs no division; rather, there must indeed be unity, which may unambiguously be called the bond of persons naturally formed from attachment to the same object.

If you have a community of people seeking the way to the same thing, but with only sparse light that struggles burgeoning in a fallen world, you can imagine that occasionally we will sometimes mistake our friends for enemies, and our enemies for friends. So long as we do not rely upon our imaginations for the identity of these shadowy figures, we may with effort achieve some clarity, and progress toward our end. The obvious remedy here is communication (uncoincidentally sharing the Latin origin of community). It seems merely a matter of asking and answering to come to a reasonable conclusion of where a person intends to go. If they are directed toward love, then the very conflict whose intention is to find love’s source, is itself an act of love. So one has to wonder: what is the issue? If we are all Catholic, why all this ‘drama’?

If we think of conflict as the clashing of subjective minds who have come to seemingly contradictory conclusions, then you might think of it as having an existence of its own, as though to speak of painting or poetry. This might seem silly at first, but in fact it is very grave. Far less than painting or poetry can we afford failing to practice the art of conflict. Such failure renders loving correction into an act of aggression, choosing the dark imaginings of a defensive mind to the clarifying light of honest argument. In the past decades, we have heard a lot about such psychometric terms like ‘disagreeability’ and ‘extroversion’—these among all the ‘deciding factors’ of a personality have become a common point of reference to explain one’s sense of conflict, which will inevitably arise in any relationship having any hope of depth. Alas, secular culture provides many impostures of depth, but shrinks from the commitment that is its source, and clings to the ephemera which is its demise.

Can it be of any surprise then, immersed in so aggressively passive a culture as we inhabit, that we might not fall sometimes to the comfort of division? Is there not a sudden moment of serenity that puts to rest a twisted stomach when you make the firm decision that you are not going to talk to someone with whom you are in conflict? Indeed, and so the habit forms. The capacity for conflict which requires self-control, the careful and moral regulation of emotion and mind, atrophies through lack of use. We perceive a look as a dirty look, or an inability to attend a party as a snub; we ascribe motivations to these actions and by doing so, unwittingly reveal the structure of our own. We betray ourselves. The darkness becomes friendly and puts a warm arm around us and tells us that we have done nothing wrong, and that our suspicions are justified. If you do not use conflict, you come under the mercy (or lack thereof) of those who abuse it. The cycle continues. This is the world we live in, and much have we let the world into the Church. It is the world which lies behind parish drama.

Drama (from ancient Greek to describe an ‘act’ or ‘play’) is rightly regarded with a kind of dismissive irritation. The gravity is taken away. It wears the mask of piety and plays the act of conflict. It becomes an object of ridicule because at its heart is nothing so serious as worth defending, but rather something so trivial as the human ego, with its stubborn indignance and its fragile emotions. I speak somewhat accusatorially, but I am certainly among the accused. It is hardly possible not to be deeply influenced by this culturally sanctioned error of self-validation. We forget that all parts of ourselves need conversion, including our emotions, and conversion involves no validation of the wrong heart. On the one hand, the blame lies with those who make correction unbearable by taking it too hard; on the other hand, it lies with those who fail to correct others out of fear of a bad reaction, however informed that fear may be.

The only option left in this tragically normal state of affairs is to learn the art of conflict for ourselves, despite the world. It is remarkably difficult to get someone to give you an honest criticism of your actions, let alone your character. It has to be vehemently invited. How can you correct others if you do not take correction? How can you expect them to act with grace if you yourself bury their love in your resentment? We will often go too far, often not far enough, but there is a choice at hand: to try and fail, or to fail trying. Only one of these is capable of causing growth. The way is narrow, because it is the perfection of being; it is the perfect balance of opposing forces which is the very intention of their creation, because it is the way of life. We can expect failure to be involved with its mandate, so long as the failure is met with humility. Only in humility are we transformed; only by humility is the bitterness of failure recreated into the sweetness of good fruit.

It is through humility that parish drama might more hopefully be converted to parish conflict. Humility removes us from the certain success of a remote attack, and pushes us into the potential defeat of an honest fight. As failure is so common, the intentions of others should decidedly be given the benefit of the doubt. If there are not enough grave outcomes of the pettiness of parish drama, the suppression of traditional Catholic practices is certainly one of its most frequent targets. While it is in the nature of truth to rightly divide, it is in the nature of drama—as in all circumstances where personal offense plays too great a role—to bitterly divide, to attack the bond between people otherwise rightfully ordered toward the same end. The sound of that division is not the raised voice and the tense pause of a serious argument. The sound of that division is the cry of wrath, and the abandoning silence of the locked door.

“With a terrible cry the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged down and vanished. But even as it fell it swung its whip, and the thongs lashed and curled about the wizard’s knees dragging him to the brink. He staggered and fell, grasped vainly at the stone, and slid into the abyss.”

— Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Ch. 5

Alex Begin is a veteran of this war. For the better part of four decades in Detroit and Windsor, Ontario, he has been behind the most successful traditional Catholic movement the world over. Prior to last summer’s crackdown, Detroit was home to twenty-eight Latin Masses, and had so thoroughly impressed previous Archbishop Allen Vigneron that he sent the following laudatory reply to the infamous survey preceding Traditionis Custodes:

“[The liberation of the Latin Mass] has given us a remarkably successful approach to resolving the contention that existed in the Church about the status of the Extraordinary Form. The discipline it has put in place is bearing much good fruit, especially in the lives of the faithful and in restoring ecclesial peace. There is no question in my mind about the legitimacy of the Extraordinary Form as extraordinary. These celebrations offer valid experiences of the Church’s sacred liturgy but complement the Ordinary Form. Such celebrations are in no way a threat to the Ordinary Form established after the Council, and in the Church, they enrich her in her diversity. By my lights Summorum Pontificum has been a remarkable success.”¹

Mr. Begin has seen the TLM thrive in a variety of situations, dioceses, and countries. There is, however, one specific scenario that has tended to cause trouble: the dying parish given a suddenly thriving Latin Mass.

In 2004, a dying Detroit parish became the first to offer the TLM since 1970. The immediate success of the old liturgy, both in the quantity and youth of those attracted, sent shockwaves through the archdiocese, and served as a proof of concept for Begin and his fellow long-laboring coworkers. An obvious boon, the situation seemed beyond sensible critique, and within years, Latin Masses were getting started all over the archdiocese.

But in 2012, a new pastor was assigned to this parish. He initiated a mission of replacing all the major lay functions of the TLM with “his people”: the leading altar servers were forced out; the music director was fired. “It was all about control,” says Begin.

At the same time, the “inner circle” of long-time parishioners began agitating against the ascendant TLM. They insisted that the TLM community hadn’t been giving enough “time, talent, and treasure” to the parish. When evidence was provided showing that the TLM community had brought in approximately two-thirds of the parish revenue, the inner circle demurred. “No matter what we did, no matter what we showed them, it was never enough,” Begin explains.

Though nothing quite so draconian as a months-long cancellation of the TLM ever occurred at this Detroit parish, the animosity from the “inner circle” and parish leadership eventually drove over half of the TLM community away, with more leaving as other TLM options popped up around the diocese. But the dwindling attendance affected the “inner circle” not at all; there was no reckoning or come to Jesus moment; there was seemingly no self-reflection or attempt to win back the souls who had fled. Rather, the “inner circle” considered the departure of these families to be addition by subtraction. “They were happy that we were leaving,” recalls Begin. “They considered it a success.”

Soon after, the parish was merged; today, it is functionally shuttered, with no regular Masses on offer. This is the story of a group of Catholics in a dying parish who, when presented with an unexpected lifeline, positively chose to cast it off. They would rather the parish die with them.

This phenomenon is not unique to our neck of the woods. Some bishops even referenced this problem in the Vatican’s Summorum Pontificum survey that preceded Traditionis Custodes:

“Division and discord do not arise from the use of the EF, but rather from the perception people have of those who attend it. Motivations and tendencies are attributed to people that are not true at all.” (Diocese of Savannah, USA, response to question 3).²

The Bishop of the Diocese of Vannes, France reflected on the difficulties that TLM communities have had integrating into parishes, and granted that this may be due to their “distrust” of their hierarchy. However, he observed another reality at play:

This may be their own fault, when they are distrustful of the pastoral direction of the Diocese or the Parish and prefer to live in isolation. But it may also be due to those who are attached to the Ordinary Form, who struggle to understand the specific characteristics and expectations of these faithful, as well as the way they live their faith.”³

Alex Begin points out that parishes in which the Ordinary Form is thriving tend not to have such problems. “Look around Michigan: Holy Rosary in Cedar, Sacred Heart in Grand Rapids, etc. Because both forms are thriving, you don’t see the Ordinary Form lashing out against the TLM.” Rather, it is the dying parishes that resist most stridently the new life breathed into them by ascendant TLM communities, and instead lash out like Tolkien’s Balrog as they fall into the abyss.

What is so perplexing about such behavior is that the perpetrators tend not to be evil people; in truth, they tend to be some of the most upstanding citizens among us, men and women who genuinely love their parish and who have given untold amounts of time, energy, and resources toward its service. Yet these parishes, and the otherwise decent souls in their “inner circles” seem to become infected with a life-repellant mentality; not a culture of death, precisely, but a culture of dying.

The Culture of Dying does not desire destruction, but rather actively resists revitalization. Take, as an example, the stunning recent case of the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul in New York. Descended from St. Elizabeth Ann Seton herself, the nuns have spent two hundred glorious years serving the poor, nursing the sick, and teaching the children of New York. However, following their sadly familiar decision in the 1960s to ditch the habits and take to the streets for activist causes, vocations cratered. Such a move did not, of course, attract women to the convent; rather, by 2023, the Sisters of Charity were down to 154 nuns with an average age of 85, and without a single new vocation for 21 years.⁴

What do you figure they did next? Do you suppose they entertained a return to the traditional forms of religious life that had fueled the flourishing of the order for its first two centuries?

No; the remaining members voted unanimously in the spring of 2023 to positively embrace extinction – or, as they termed it, “completion”⁵ – and to refuse any new vocations henceforth. They, literally, would rather the order die with them – and they have ensured that it will.

Or take my grandmother: a beloved, earnest, life-long liberal Catholic, who recently left the parish she had been a member of my entire life, and in which she had been an embedded figure. When pressed thereafter about what could possibly have forced her to leave her longtime home, she blurted – seemingly before she could stop herself – “there’s a bunch of young men with beards there all of a sudden.”

It was true. Following the appointment of a new pastor – himself a youngish, bearded man – her parish, which had previously had the demographics of a bingo night, began to transform. Traditional forms of piety returned; liturgical solemnity was restored; and yes, fighting-aged men started showing up to Mass.

The importance of men returning to the Catholic Church can hardly be overstated. It was they who first fled following the implementation of the 1970 Missal; England’s Cardinal John Heenan prophesied as much upon viewing a test-run of the reformed liturgy in 1967:

“At home it is not only women and children but also fathers of families and young men who come regularly to mass. If we were to offer them the kind of ceremony we saw yesterday in the Sistine Chapel, we would soon be left with a congregation mostly of women and children.”⁶

Men are the bellwether of religion: the future is black when they flee, and bright when they return. When fathers practice devoutly, children follow.⁷ Indeed, the widely noted reappearance of men in recent years is the Church’s surest sign of hope. But when one’s experience of parish life has been, for decades, that of an old women’s club, the return of young men is often not perceived as the triumphant arrival of a cavalry but as the invasion of an enemy force.

We lament that the majority of our parishes are in a state of “managed decline,” but many of those within these parishes rather prefer this decline, precisely because it is manageable. One can easily control what a dying parish is going to look like, now and into its short future. But one cannot control the composition of a parish that is open to life, for life – even in an age of family planning, eugenic abortion, and IVF – is essentially outside of our domain. A married couple that is radically open to life is intentionally relinquishing control of what their family life will look like and placing it squarely in the hands of Providence. Every single new life forever changes the face of the family and community into which the child is born, to such an extent that hypothetical alternate universes seem mind-boggling: imagine how different our community would be if that one family had eight daughters instead of eight sons.

For an aging parish to embrace young people, men in particular, it would necessarily mean embracing a radical change in their lived experience of “church.” It would indeed mean that the parish is going to look, feel, and be irreversibly transformed. My grandmother, she has long claimed, wishes her grandchildren practiced the Faith; precisely one does. She laments, in theory, the general decline of Mass attendance she has witnessed throughout her life. And yet, when faced with the choice of a revitalization that requires a dramatic shift in the demographic makeup of her pew mates, she would – in practice – rather the parish die with her.

“After me, the deluge.”

— King Louis XV

I proceed with caution, for I sympathize with our old-time parishioners. What we are asking them to do is to accept dramatic changes to their experience of parish life at an age when “change” is rightly the last thing they desire. I contend that the elderly are perhaps the greatest victims of a modern world that is “chained to the wheel of progress”⁸; that there is little crueler than having created a world in which an octogenarian who was reared on typewriters and rotary-dial telephones is unable to access her bank account without proficiency in QR codes and two-factor authentication. Under ordinary circumstances, it is unfair and unjust to expect the elderly to adapt to sudden changes in their lives. Yet it is plain that the circumstances of our present parishes are far from ordinary and healthy.

A complete, healthy human community must necessarily be composed of the entire age spectrum, and in it, we can observe the beautiful design of man as social animal: the children provide the continual infusion of life into the community; the elderly provide the wisdom, guidance, and stability for all who follow; the “young adults” provide the energy and initiative to fight for the protection of both and the common good for all.

When the elderly are cut off from a given community, the society loses its grounding, its respect for that which endures. The initiative and energy of the youth become perverted in the pursuit of short-term pleasures and short-term fixes. Lacking the wisdom of the elders and the witness of constancy they provide, the community falls to the idolization of change, variety, and novelty. Elders become no longer viewed as pillars but obstacles, derided for their tendency to be stuck in the mud and generally in the way. It is an inhumane mentality – a product of a “throwaway culture,” as Pope Francis noted – and one of which all who still have the privilege of being considered “young” must be wary.

But when it is the youth that are cut off from a given community, the elderly instinct for constancy can become corrupted into a genuine rigidity. Separated from the well-spring of life – those annoying, snot-nosed founts of perpetual renewal known as “babies” – the elderly can genuinely become stuck in their ways to such an extent that they no longer welcome the young into their realms. The introduction of families to such a parish feels akin to the forced establishment of an indoor playground at a nursing home; the sight of the child at Mass no longer welcomed as a blessing, but resisted as a bane.

It is through this lens that the attitudes toward children and families at our parishes begin to come into focus: the complaints of “loud” kids ruining everyone’s “peaceful” Mass experience; the derision of mothers who (for some unknown reason!) “keep standing up and walking around with their kids” during Mass; the panicked reaction to the discovery of crayon markings on the basement tile floor; the disgust at soccer balls left in the lawn after a post-Mass pickup game amongst the teens. The very signs of life itself are considered an affront.

There may be an element of gramnesia at play here, the phenomenon of grandparents apparently forgetting just how loud, messy, and difficult child-rearing can be. But I am more moved by a perspective offered recently by another local priest, regarding his age-advanced parishioners who express these seemingly anti-child and anti-family attitudes:

“None of their children or grandchildren go to Mass. And it eats them up. When they see a homeschool family of 8 arrive for Mass, each kid more devout than the last, it strikes a nerve. They are not happy to see young families at Mass; it pains them.”

Whoosh.

“Despise not a man in his old age; for we also shall become old.”

— Sirach 8:7

The Culture of Dying is not, to be sure, a universal affliction among elderly Catholics. The TLM communities I’ve known are full of the most gracious, understanding, child-loving elders one has ever met – as are most all genuinely thriving parishes. Many a faithful senior in a dwindling parish would give anything to see a toddler at Mass. But the Culture of Dying is no outlying phenomenon either; it is an accurate appraisal of the majority of our parishes.

Alas, this is our lot. We did not ask to live at a time in which we will have to fight for the Church to even have a future at all, against the will of her own members. But as we proceed in this holy mission and duty to transmit the Faith to our kin, let us never forget that we too are not immune to the temptations and trappings of the Culture of Dying. We too will likely live to see our own efforts stalled, and another’s flourish. God-willing, we too will grow old and be faced with the choice of either taking the ship down with us or handing off the vessel of our life’s work to another, whose manner may differ from ours. There is undoubtedly a Spirit of Balrog inside every soul, just as the line between good and evil runs directly through every human heart. May we be willing to receive as grace the new life that God breathes into our families, our communities, and our Church, so that they may thrive well after we pass on from this Earthly realm.

And most urgently, may we continue to cooperate with grace in the building and strengthening of our local body of Christ, forging a network of domestic churches who lean on each other, strengthen each other, and make the conditions possible for the common flourishing of our growing families. Because there is no stronger antidote to the Culture of Dying than a Catholic community that is defiantly alive.

Alex Begin is grieved to hear what has transpired over the last five months. But he is not without hope for us.

“It’s always been two steps forward, one step back for the TLM. I’ve been doing this for 30 years; I’ve seen far worse times. The 1990s were much, much worse. There are signs of hope everywhere right now.

Not to be melodramatic, but I really think the Devil hates the TLM. He’s always throwing roadblocks at us. But in the end, we tend to find a way.”

Our Lady of Victory, ora pro nobis.

We have reflected upon Pope Leo XIV’s Lenten plea: “I would like to invite you to a very practical and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence: that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor. Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves. Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities.”

We take the pen not as a sword, but as a shield, for the reputation of our community and the beloved families therein. May God preserve us from any and all exaggeration, malice, or spite. This is the story of Holy Family’s Latin Mass controversy.

Background

In December, 2020, Holy Family Catholic Church in Saginaw, Michigan offered the first “Traditional Latin Mass” in the Diocese in over fifty years. The occasion was the fruit of over five years of steady labor and prayer from Mr. Joey Storer’s Saginaw Latin Mass Association (SLMA). It was an instant success, drawing nearly 200 new souls to a historic parish that had been on the brink of closure.

The community that formed around the Latin Mass at Holy Family was not a collection of so-called trads; the 98% of us standing for the Alleluia the first few weeks attests as much. We were Catholics from all over the diocese who were drawn by the reverence and sacrality, and slowly learned this Mass together.

Over the past five years, this community strengthened and deepened. Much has been made about the youth of the attendees at the Holy Family TLM, but it was not merely a “youth crowd.” Rather, it was a full and healthy cross-section of the Body of Christ: elderly couples; large, established families; young, growing families; scores of single young adults; and bucketloads of babies.

“We cannot put into words the immense impact the Latin Mass has had on the spiritual life of our family. Our entire life orbits the 3PM Mass at Holy Family. The Latin Mass and the community at Holy Family has encouraged us to authentically live as Catholics in this world. It has deepened our love of the Eucharist, strengthened our knowledge of the Catholic faith, and has been our constant source of spiritual renewal. The parishioners we have come to know and love and consider our extended family.” – Young Father (All quotes from survey of Holy Family TLM attendees, unless otherwise noted)

Or, as the father of a prominent large Catholic family remarked:

“This is the community I’ve been waiting 30 years for.”

The pastor at Holy Family in 2020 informed the SLMA that Holy Family did not have the funds, knowledge, or experience to support a Latin Mass, and asked for the SLMA’s help on all fronts. The SLMA immediately set about raising nearly $30,000 for vestments, bells, cloths, torches, crucifixes, and more. Organically, this group of zealous Catholics formed the necessary ministries to elevate the Mass to the best of their abilities. One parishioner made beautiful Mass aids each week; dozens of boys learned the complex art of traditional altar serving; a breathtaking, angelic choir formed and continued, week after week, to raise the bar for sacred accompaniment. A talented young seamstress sewed a houseling cloth for the altar rail; a skilled carpenter crafted soccer goals for the parish yard; handymen began performing much needed maintenance work on the church building.

The TLM community started a wildly successful Vacation Bible School; built a faith formation program from the ground up; started and ran an OCIA program; hosted more than a dozen parish parties to celebrate feast days; organized dozens of potlucks and tailgates; and much, much more (as will be documented).

This community has seen two young women enter the convent and one young man enter the seminary, with many more young men in the process of seriously discerning the priesthood. The community has seen many marriages between parishioners who met at Holy Family, and the births and baptisms of dozens of babies. More than anything, the celebration of this Mass drew us deeper in love with Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, forever changing the way we approach the great Sacrament and the Holy Sacrifice.

“I would not have become Catholic this year if not for the Latin Mass, and it has become a valuable tool for leading other men in my life away from Protestantism. Every Protestant I have invited so far has left forever changed, just as I was.”

The first eighteen months of the Latin Mass at Holy Family saw High Mass every Sunday; Masses for the high feast days; monthly Requiem Masses for the Church Suffering; Rorate Masses; Traditional Latin Weddings, etc. The fallout from Pope Francis’ July 2021 decree Traditionis Custodes was a blow to the community, banning us from daily Masses (limiting our ability to celebrate strictly to 3PM on Sundays), and banning any advertisement of the Mass, or even placement in the parish bulletin. But the community persevered, and only deepened in solidarity.

In June of 2024, Holy Family was appointed a new pastor. In June of 2025, it appeared as if the Latin Mass was going to be cancelled due to the expiration of our exemption to Traditionis Custodes. Oddly, almost no communication about the impending cancellation of the Mass was given from our new pastor, and when what we believed to be our final Latin Mass concluded, he did not indicate there would even be a Mass offering at 3PM the following Sunday. After some pleading, he agreed to offer a “Latin Novus Ordo” the next Sunday at 3PM.

Once again, the community sprang into action. Within two days, we had altar servers committed, a schola and organist assigned, a Mass aid drafted up, and ushers identified. The community was ready, at this moment, to commit to Holy Family for the long haul, even without their beloved Latin Mass. Thankfully, our bishop interceded on our behalf and granted an extension of the Latin Mass while waiting to hear a response from our newly elected Holy Father Pope Leo XIV.

The Holy Family Latin Mass community is a zealous bunch, one that has never claimed to be free from sin – as the 60-odd souls in line for Confession every Sunday were acutely aware. But with our previous pastors’ willingness to communicate with us directly and charitably, we had been able to successfully work together toward our common desire of supporting and revitalizing Holy Family parish. The situation seemed to change suddenly this fall.

Fall of 2025

On Sunday, October 5^th, our pastor gave a security update in his pre-homily announcements about a plan to lock and guard the doors to the church during Mass. His exact words were as follows:

“Finally, just in light of kind of the recent events all around, you know, sometimes really getting close to home now, effective immediately, we’ll start locking the doors after Holy Mass begins. So, the South entrance is always going to stay locked. And so, we’re not going to open that one up any more. So, you’ll have to use a different door. Same for the main entrance, the front entrance, those doors you can go out, but you won’t be able to come in that way. So, you’ll want to come in through the North entrance, and once Mass begins, those doors will lock. So, if you do come late, can you just be patient, or just [give] kind of a light knock to get attention. Just to give you a heads up on that, because of all the nutjobs around.”

No details were given regarding how this was going to be achieved. Nothing in writing was ever received. The reasonable assumption was that the parish had already identified and assigned people to perform the functions of locking and guarding the doors, as described.

The reaction amongst the community was of varying levels of confusion. We had never heard of a church locking her doors during Mass; many felt it would seem to be contrary to the spirit of the Holy Sacrifice in which all are welcome. Some parishioners checked Canon Law, and found the following:

As Canon 1221 of the Code of Canon Law states: “Entry to a church at the hours of sacred functions is to be open and free of charge.”

So in light of this, closing the doors of a church to the faithful while Mass is being celebrated in that church is straightforwardly against the law.

Some canon lawyers believe that this law can be dispensed by the local bishop, who might in theory give special, limited permission to lock the doors of a church during Mass for an appropriately serious reason.

But other canon lawyers would argue that this requirement cannot be dispensed, not even by the local bishop, because it pertains to the heart of what a church building is most essentially.”

- Canonist Jenna Marie Cooper, CatholicReview.org

When this was brought to the attention of parish leadership, the request for an explanation was dismissed as “disobedience.” Given no adequate explanation of the legality of this measure and no written decree, a handful of parishioners made known to parish leadership that they would refuse to lock the doors themselves, as doing so would violate their consciences.

For the other ~97% of the Holy Family Latin Mass community, the announcement was met with a shrug and an expectation that the parish leadership would have a plan in place for getting “guards” to lock the doors. No one would have thought that such a vague announcement was placing the burden upon our community as to figuring out a novel security plan. In fact, many missed this announcement outright, it having occurred only once, right before the homily, during a notoriously fussy portion of the Mass for children. One month passed without any additional communication, and the community arrived at Mass on Sunday, November 2^nd, blissfully unaware of any underlying frustration from our pastor towards us.

It was midway through this Mass, while 200+ souls were at prayer, that our pastor stepped to the pulpit and berated the entire community, threatening to “pause” the Latin Mass due to a “lack of cooperation” with the locking of doors. He claimed that a door had been unlocked the previous week (we’ve come to understand that it was for an altar boy to dispose of hot ashes outside). Father accused the men of the parish of having failed to “step up,” and then finished by gesticulating toward the tabernacle and yelling:

“It is such a disrespect that those types of things were going on before Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Eucharist. It is a mockery of Him!”

The souls in the pews were stunned. This announcement was absolutely unexpected and bewildering. The spiritual damage of being peacefully at prayer during the Holy Sacrifice in one moment, and then having that very Mass angrily threatened by the priest in the next moment, is difficult to capture:

“The outburst was so out of place and undeserving, that it gives me great concern for Father. I pray he is not ill.”

“We have been unjustly called a mockery of Jesus by Father – the entire congregation – from the ambo.”

“Fr. shouldn’t have yelled at congregation. He should talk to men privately . . . I don’t want him to hold the Mass like a carrot...do this or else.”

“When did the Mass become a leverage in power struggles?”

“It was the insults hurled at me from the pulpit on November 2^nd that had the biggest impact on my family. My kids and wife cried. It was grave matter committed by father. He then called on Jesus in the Eucharist behind him to support this grave matter thereby committing a sacrilege against Christ Himself during Mass. How can I send my kids to Mass when the priest is committing what could be mortal sins from the pulpit during Mass?”

“Shocked that our priest would hold the Mass hostage from our entire community over a dispute involving 5 people or less. Entire TLM are being punished and were forced to endure an abusive, belittling verbal beating from our pastor.”

As a matter of pure business, the scolding made no sense. No one had interpreted his quick, pre-homily verbal announcement on October 5^th of “we’ll start locking the doors after Holy Mass begins” as “you had better figure out how to lock the doors and guard them yourselves, or I’ll threaten to withhold your Mass.” Upon being made painfully aware that our pastor did not actually have a plan in place, and that it was truly all on us, men of the parish immediately began asking how they could help. Mass had barely finished when perplexed fathers had begun meeting all over Holy Family grounds offering to help guard the doors. Before we had left the parking lot, a “two-pronged approach” was determined: we would form a rotation of men to guard the doors for the upcoming Sundays, while we simultaneously worked with our pastor to understand how this breakdown in communication had occurred, and try to determine what was truly behind this sudden anger.

The email indicating who was to be guarding the door for the upcoming Sunday was sent to our pastor and other parish leadership mid-week. Two parishioners approached our pastor about hiring a security guard to guard the door, which he verbally approved of, insofar as we paid for him ourselves. When we arrived for Mass the next Sunday, November 9^th, we had both a parishioner tasked with standing guard at the door until the Gospel, as well as a hired security guard at the entrance. Though none of our pastor’s directives had ever been given to us in writing, and many details were left fuzzy (When exactly are the doors to be locked? How long does the doorman have to stand guard? What are the doorman’s duties in case someone actually tries to force entry? Does the doorman fulfill his Sunday obligation? Etc.), we genuinely thought we had met the demands as they had been verbalized.

Though we had been deeply disturbed by the way that parish leadership had communicated this matter to us, the common conception was that Father’s conditions were met, the problem was resolved, and parish life would go on as normal.

The “Pause”

Then, on Thursday, November 13th, at 3:22PM (less than 72 hours before our scheduled Latin Mass time), an email was sent out by the lay head of the communications committee to the other members of parish councils and committees stating that our pastor had decided to cancel that Sunday’s Latin Mass and pause all future Latin Masses until further notice. We immediately begged for an explanation and listed all the men who were willing to guard the doors as directed, to which parish leadership replied: “the issue is much deeper than who is guarding a door.”

The pastor did not respond to any of the frantic inquiries, nor did he inform the choir director of the cancellation, nor the priest who offers confession during Mass, nor even the priest who was scheduled to offer Mass that Sunday. Incredibly, the parish informed us that we could not publicize the cancellation on social media, and could only inform people by way of email communications. Thankfully, a group of TLM parishioners showed up at 3PM on Sunday, November 16^th to greet those who had arrived expecting the Latin Mass to be offered and provide them with alternative ways of meeting their Sunday obligations. Sixteen souls were spared from missing their Sunday obligations due to the gracious work of these parishioners.

The 3PM Mass community was crushed. Then, for the next ten weeks, we were given the silent treatment. Dozens upon dozens of emails, phone calls, and texts – from fathers, mothers, children, parish council members, etc. – went unanswered. For ten weeks, we were left without an explanation from our pastor for the cancelation of the Mass that had been our spiritual home. Was this really all because of the door locking “dispute”? What is going on?

“We don’t even know what happened!! It has left us feeling orphaned. We feel scattered and confused, like the rug has been pulled out from under us. It truly feels like our Father has abandoned us, locked us out of our home and refused to communicate with us.”

“My kids feel like they are being punished and they of course didn’t do anything. To have the main Sunday Mass you attend taken away has caused many wounds . . . My children are so deeply hurting.”

“This pause has been unbelievably confusing and disheartening. Three weeks ago, Fr. was screaming at us from the ambo, and then he closed the Mass shortly after. I was under the impression we were doing everything he asked of us. The communication from Fr. and the administration is terrible. The level of heartache this has caused my family and I is ridiculous. This would be less frustrating if Father communicated what we did wrong. No one knows what we did!”

“In disbelief that a priest would take away the sacrament of the Mass as a ‘punishment.’”

“This pause has created confusion within our family, and a true feeling of betrayal, neglect, and a lack a spiritual fatherhood. This misguidance is so odd, and there has been no explanation, at least to my family, as to why our routine weekly Mass no longer is available.”

“It has been very painful to lose this beautiful form of the liturgy, but that is not the most difficult part of this; it has felt like the intentional scattering of a family. I feel as if I have been orphaned by a shepherd I loved, respected, and trusted. The community I love and wanted to raise my children in is spread across at least 5 parishes now, and our father won’t speak to us or even hint at what we can do to resolve it.”

“The lack of communication from [our pastor] is what hurts. I thought he would want to understand his Parishioner. I would like to think that all of this could have been avoided if we could have sat down and worked through things together.”

“The way it was paused (with Fr accusing the whole parish of disrespecting the diocese and mocking the Eucharist - in front of our kids during Mass), has caused my family to distrust Fr.”

“It is beyond words that the TLM would be ‘paused’ as a punitive measure for a door being unlocked once (that is the only specific instance given).”

“Regardless of issues in parish, taking a Mass away does not seem right. Solving problems head on makes sense, ‘pausing’ a Mass without clear direction on a solution seems very wrong.”

The explanations we received from various members of the “inner circle” at Holy Family were inconsistent and scattershot. One member of parish leadership would explain that the Mass was “paused” because the TLM community hadn’t sufficiently supported parish events put on by Ordinary Form attendees. Another would claim that the Mass was “paused” because a “group of men” had been “bullying Father.” Another would claim it was due to the “distracting” misbehavior of the multitudes of children at Mass. Another would claim that it was due to the fact that some parishioners designate their tithes to the “building fund” as opposed to the “general fund.” Another would claim that the door-locking fiasco was merely the “straw that broke the camel’s back.” Still another would assert that it really was all due to the confusion regarding locking doors.

The multitude of accusations, some so plainly false as to be insulting (as will be documented shortly), gave one the impression that those behind the cancellation were themselves not entirely sure of the reason, nor that the reason was of primary importance.

“I get the feeling this was a case of ‘show me the man (or community), and I will find you the crime.’”

On December 8th, a survey was sent to a mailing list consisting of attendees of the 3PM Mass. The survey included the following question:

“Briefly describe the effect that the “pause” of the Latin Mass has had on you and your family (500 characters):”

The results were as follows:

• 73 of 81 respondents (90.1%) detailed severe, intense spiritual and emotional damage, with the most frequently used words being “devastated,” “heartbroken,” “betrayed,” “abandoned,” and “stabbed in the back.” As a small sampling:

  • “The ‘pause’ has left me absolutely devastated and heartbroken. I feel like I’ve been ripped away from my home. It has left me attempting to put the pieces of my heart back together while attending Mass in a new parish, one that is not my home.”

  • “The destruction of the Mass coming from the ONE man who should have protected us most felt like being stabbed in the back and evicted from my home.”

  • “It has nearly destroyed the community I had with other kids my age at Holy Family, since we all ended up going to different parishes. This makes it really hard for me to grow in relationship with God since I don’t have my Catholic friends around me anymore.”

  • “I was discerning diocesan priesthood, but [these actions] have scandalized many, me included, and caused division and betrayal of trust.”

• The remaining 8 respondents offered what can be classified as “mild lamentations,” such as:

  • “I am sad and pray that Mass will return, I don’t know what happened”

  • “We miss being immersed in God’s presence that we feel so immensely at TLM”

The Public Allegations and our Responses

Finally, after ten weeks of silence, our pastor announced that he would be offering the Latin Mass at 3PM on January 18^th, preceded by a “reflection” explaining why he had taken such a draconian step.

As a quick narration aside: in praying in the parking lot before entering, I felt the briefest glimmer of hope. These months had been dark and disheartening. But what if? What if our pastor gets up to the pulpit, and actually apologizes? What if he acknowledges the harm caused, and vows to work together going forward? Wouldn’t it be so amazing to begin the work of rebuilding what had been lost? What if?

Alas. Our pastor stepped to the pulpit, and unleashed seventeen minutes’ worth of allegations against us. Obviously, we in the pews could not respond to the false and insulting charges. All we could do, upon receiving this additional blow, was to get up and leave peacefully (all while being confrontationally filmed by parish leadership).

Condensed for the sake of space, here are the primary charges that were made against the Latin Mass community, with brief answers. Be forewarned: much of this is “inside baseball,” and names have been redacted. But these charges tend to fall into one of three categories: (1) provably false, (2) so vague that they cannot be properly addressed, or (3) issues that could have been resolved in one short conversation which apparently never occurred.

These responses to his allegations have been shared with our pastor. He has not responded.

(1) “[Following the establishment of the Latin Mass at Holy Family,] the Saginaw Latin Mass Association took upon themselves authority over the TLM, disregarding competent authority, namely, the pastor of Holy Family, and the Bishop of the Diocese.”

The Saginaw Latin Mass Association (SLMA) spearheaded the effort to bring the Latin Mass to our diocese. Upon arrival at Holy Family, the SLMA was informed by the pastor that Holy Family could not afford to purchase the necessary vestments and adornments for a proper Latin Mass. Thereafter, the SLMA successfully fundraised nearly $30,000 to purchase all the requisite vestments and adornments, all with the pastor’s explicit permission and support. The SLMA has never claimed to have authority over the TLM. The SLMA is not aware of ever “disregarding competent authority.” Such a charge would require specific evidence; it has been four months, and none has been given.

(2) These individuals have engaged in and promoted actions in direct opposition to the direct direction of the pastor and bishop.

What actions? How many individuals? These are serious charges, and yet no examples are given. We have received no communication regarding these incidents.

(3) The actions and statements of these individuals have escalated to constitute blatant disobedience to the authority of the Catholic Church. Behaviors that are contrary to the teaching we as Catholics are called to follow.

These are very serious charges, grave matter in fact. And still, no examples are given, and no specific communication has been received.

(4) These issues have been addressed in many council meetings and private meetings over a five years span, only to be met with resistance.

Are there any examples of these “many council meetings and private meetings”? The TLM community has been begging for “private meetings” with our pastor for months, to no avail.

It would only seem just that these specific accusations of misbehavior by specific parishioners, and the specific meetings in which these were addressed, should be known – particularly to the accused. Further, we would like to know the nature of the “resistance” being referenced. And, of course, we desperately want to know how any of this could rise to the level of cancelling Mass for ~200 souls.

(5) Saginaw Latin Mass Association and others do not have the authority to make decisions for the parish or any Mass.

The Saginaw Latin Mass Association agrees to this statement, as it always has.

(6) On repeated breaches of pastoral authority. Procedures clearly established by the pastor have been disregarded and undermined. This trend has escalated to include the recent issue of closing exterior doors after Mass has begun. Pastor clearly explained the concern and necessity of this safety measure. Yet the procedure was ignored, and in some cases, even reversed while he was speaking. Individuals took it upon themselves, to open doors during Mass, on multiple occasions, including doors designated for emergency use only.

The Pastor said the following before his homily on October 5^th:

“Finally, just in light of kind of the recent events all around, you know, sometimes really getting close to home now, effective immediately, we’ll start locking the doors after Holy Mass begins…. You’ll want to come in through the North entrance, and once Mass begins, those doors will lock. So, if you do come late, can you just be patient, or just give kind of a light knock to get attention. Just to give you a heads up on that, because of all the nutjobs around.”

Since nothing was ever promulgated in writing, this is all we have to go off. Is this the extent of the “clearly established procedures”? If so, we are missing many significant details, particularly regarding who precisely was supposed to lock these doors, who was supposed to stand guard and listen for knocks during Mass, how long the doorman was supposed to stand guard, etc.

The faithful in the pews figured that our pastor must have already identified specific people for these roles, since there was no indication that we were supposed to figure it out ourselves.

Regarding the accusation that the doors were unlocked after being locked, the only occasion we are aware of consisted of the father of a young altar boy opening the door so his son could dump hot ashes on the stones outside before Mass. The father had not heard the lone verbal announcement and was unaware that he was doing anything wrong. It may be understandable to see this and determine that a new procedure needed to be put in place for the altar servers. But it must be acknowledged that this was not, in any way, malicious.

(7) And the pastor ensured that someone is present to open doors for the faithful as needed.

Who? Who did the pastor appoint to be present to open doors?

(8) The procedures that have been created or implemented without the knowledge or approval of the pastor, recent examples include establishing a unique process for Latin Mass attendees that close at church after Mass, different than the rest of the parish, without prior approval.

This is manifestly false. At an unrelated committee meeting in June 2025, parish leadership informally mentioned that the Latin Mass community needed to come up with a better system to lock doors after Mass. Promptly, the TLM community gathered a crew of men to lock the doors on a rotational basis. A spreadsheet was created, assigning the primary person responsible for locking every Sunday, along with a backup. This spreadsheet was shared with the Parish on June 14^th, so they would be informed of who was responsible every Sunday. The parish office responded by saying: “Awesome, thank you so much [name] for getting the schedule together.”

A parish council representative came to 3PM Mass and trained us in the proper methodology for locking up. Thereafter, an email was sent out to the TLM community and parish leadership every single week reminding the primary and backup lockers of their duties for the upcoming Sunday. We did everything in our power to ensure we performed this duty satisfactorily. Never once did anyone from the parish tell us we were doing anything wrong. One should understand why citing this as an example of “disobedience” is upsetting to us all.

(9) Clear disregard for the pastors and diocesan instructions, regarding the closing of exterior doors, after the start of Mass, to enhance safety.

Who disregarded? What instruction? Is there evidence of a specific person disregarding our pastor’s orders? Did our pastor ever put anything in writing regarding his demands?

(10) A small group of Latin Mass attendees organized and met without the pastor’s knowledge, in an effort to bypass the pastor’s and diocesan guidelines of closing doors.

It appears this is referring to the entirely good-faith gathering in the basement after Mass on October 19^th. This informal meeting was held for the purposes of getting men together to discuss in general terms how we would react to an emergency at Mass, identify additional training needed for us laity to be better prepared, and gather questions to take to our pastor and parish leadership.

Here are the actual slides that were shown at this meeting in question:

Does this look subversive? Or does this look like men talking in good faith about how to protect their families at Mass? To claim that the real, secret purpose of this meeting was “to bypass the pastor’s and diocesan guidelines of closing doors” is flatly wrong. This falsely and uncharitably assumes the intent and motives of those who gathered.

Further, where are these “pastor’s guidelines”? Which ones did we violate? Which “diocesan guidelines of closing doors” did we violate?

(11) [The TLM community] also had a security guard just show up, without the proper protocol and vetting…

We had asked for and received verbal permission from the pastor to hire and pay for a security guard, and were not informed of any requisite ‘vetting and protocol.’ Going forward, we would be happy to give the parish the contact information of the service for whatever vetting is required.

Once again, why couldn’t any of this have been handled with a simple conversation? “Hey, can you send the security service’s contact information to the parish office for vetting before the next Mass?”

(12) But also, there’s a constant, long-standing refusal by the Saginaw Latin Mass Association to cooperate with Holy Family.

The SLMA denies this allegation, and our previous pastor has confirmed to us that the accusation of a “constant, long-standing refusal by the SLMA to cooperate with Holy Family” is absolutely not accurate.

(13) But also, there’s a small minimal contribution, from the Latin Mass community of time, talent, and treasure. You know, that benefits the parish as a whole, versus a specific community.

This is perhaps the most inaccurate and insulting statement of all. Here is a very incomplete list of contributions of time, talent, and treasure from just a handful of families (names redacted here, but they have been given to our pastor for verification):

• Family 1 is a family of nine that lives 30 minutes away from Holy Family, yet has spent upwards of five days a week at the parish over the last four years. They created a Vacation Bible School from scratch, organized and ran bake sales at all Masses in order to fund VBS entirely and not burden the parish, and then ran the actual four-day long event (requiring 6+ hour days) for three straight years. This immense effort, requiring over 40 volunteers from our community, was immensely successful: it was attended by over 90 kids.
  
  This family started a Faith Formation program from scratch, ran First Communion prep for kids, and ran the O.C.I.A. program.

  They planned, organized, and spoke at a parish evangelization event “Follow Me,” reaching out to non-Catholics and fallen away Catholics. They also took charge on sidewalk evangelization portion of the Sacred Music in the Grove concert for three years.
  
  There’s more! In addition, this family:

  • Trained, organized, and scheduled altar boys

  • Planned, organized, and put on All Saints Parties for three years

  • Planned, organized, and put on St. Nicholas Day Parties for three years

  • Planned, organized, and put on an Our Lady of Guadalupe festival

  • Served on the parish council

  • Served on the communications committee (three years)

  • Helped clean the rectory

  • Had a son cantor for Ordinary Form (O.F.) Masses

  • Had multiple sons serve O.F. Masses

  • Had a daughter play piano for O.F. Masses

Can a greater contribution from one family to a parish even be conceived?

• Family 2 is a family of six that lives a full 40 minutes away from Holy Family, but who still served on the finance council for three years, planned the 100-year anniversary celebration dinner, and organized an amazing relic event, featuring nearly 100 relics from the greatest of Saints, free of charge to the parish. In addition, they organized dozens of post-Mass potlucks and tailgates, the most quintessentially “welcoming” events one could imagine, and during which we were always meeting and greeting new attendees.

• Family 3 is a family of nine that lives 20 minutes away from Holy Family, and yet the family attended weekly Wednesday evening O.F. Masses, with their boys serving and singing in the choir. This whole family helped organize and volunteer for the Vacation Bible School and numerous other parish parties. They helped with property clean-up and garage painting, assisted with OCIA and sacramental prep, helped with faith formation and childcare. The mother washed and ironed sacred linens on a near-weekly basis as part of the Rosary Altar Society, while the daughters helped make liturgical candles and goods for bake sales. This is the sort of family that priests and parish administrators dream about… “if only we could have a family like that in our parish!”

• Family 4 is a family of ten that assisted with Vacation Bible School, parish parties, church cleaning, Fall Cleanup Day, rummage sale, and the parish 4^th of July event. They helped create a parish bookstore from scratch, helped set up the parish Easter egg hunt, and helped paint the parish garage. The father served on finance council, the sons served at O.F. Masses, and the whole family participated in the Night of Love prayer nights.

• Family 5 is a family of twelve with a child of severe disability that lives 30 minutes away from Holy Family (you know, a typical parish family), whose entire family volunteered at Vacation Bible School for that past three years. The boys served at O.F. Masses, the girls sang in the parish Sacred Music Concert.

• Family 6 is a family of ten with a child of severe disability that lives 25 minutes away from Holy Family who repainted the parking lot and paid for it out of their own pockets, while their children have served at and sang at O.F. Masses and concerts.

• Family 7 lives 25 minutes away from Holy Family, and yet frequented the parish to provide accompaniment for O.F. Masses and serve on multiple parish councils and committees. One member of this family hand-made a custom houseling cloth to fit onto the Holy Family altar rail – an effort that required three full days of work. This same parishioner labored for days on end for the rummage sale (mostly by herself), raising $2,000 for the parish. This same parishioner also put a month of work into the parish bookstore, which raised over $400 on opening night. This family contributed substantially to the 4^th of July and 100-year anniversary parish celebrations.

• Family 8 lives 30 minutes away from Holy Family, and yet the skilled father made the hour-commute on weeknights to perform maintenance work for the parish, and built a handmade storm window for the rectory. He handcrafted a donation box for the vestibule, and soccer goals for the parish backyard. He served on multiple committees, sang at O.F. Masses, and helped put on a young men’s retreat. All while his wife was on child duty with their newborn!

• Family 9 lives 30 minutes away from Holy Family, and organized the wildly successful Sacred Music in the Grove concert, organized the parish “Buy Nothing” group, organized potlucks and tailgates, organized a parish golf outing, organized a young men’s retreat, spoke at the parish evangelization event “Follow Me,” and purchased the altar cross used for O.F. Masses.

Shall we go on? Can you imagine publicly referring to all this as a “small, minimal contribution”?

(14) But examples of this include Christ’s Mission Appeal . . . an effort that is not being supported due to perception of how the diocese utilizes these funds. Refusing to contribute to the Christ Mission Appeal means that a shortfall from our parish assessment requires payment from the general funds in the parish, lessening our ability to operate within our limited budget.

This is an issue worth discussing. We understand that Christ’s Mission Appeal can be a burden on a parish budget. We understand that Christ’s Mission Appeal supports many good causes in the Church. It is also no secret that Christ’s Mission Appeal has come under fire in recent years for the accusation that some of the causes it supports are contrary to Church teaching. But that is not the reason our family didn’t donate. We simply have limited funds, and already donate a full 10% of our income to the parish. Since our family gave our tithes to the general fund, and it is out of that fund that shortfalls are drawn, didn’t we contribute all the same?

Again, this is a legitimate concern, one that would be worth sitting down and working together to address. This has not happened. The only way to resolve this would be by way of charitable dialogue; there has been none.

(15) There’s also been a lack of engagement in service events, such as yard cleanups, rectory cleaning, quarterly church cleaning, etc.

The average TLM family lives 30 minutes away from Holy Family, often with multiple young children. As was shown above, these families still managed to contribute to these events, but it would be unjust and uncharitable to hold them to the same standard of service as the inner circle who live in close proximity to the parish.

But let us be plain: have you ever heard of an Ordinary Form Mass being taken away because the pastor judged that the attendees at that Mass didn’t adequately engage in parish cleanup events? Is there any precedent for this?

(16) But visitors have also commented about the noticeable lack of hospitality that does not represent our parish well, or support all these families’ desire for radical hospitality. Well, you receive specific feedback that has been received from people that they love the Latin Mass, but do not feel welcomed and have not returned.

It would be closer to the truth to say that we are overbearingly the opposite – that a new face would have to flee for his life from an army of baby-wearing moms to escape Holy Family without having his contact information fleeced. Which begs the question: who said these things? How many, specifically? What actually happened to these people? There are dozens of families who would attest the exact opposite.

Twenty-eight unique responses to the December 8^th survey specifically referenced the community as a standout grace of the Holy Family TLM, including:

Young mother, new to Holy Family TLM: “We are new to the church and have really loved the church’s community. We have been so welcomed from the members of the church. We have truly enjoyed the history of the Latin Mass even my children have been enjoying it asking when we’re going back to our new church.”

Another young mother: “My home has been taken away from me. Before the pause, there was nowhere in the world I felt safer or more welcome . . . I knew that, if I died, I would want a funeral at Holy Family because it would be packed with people I love praying for my soul.”

Father: “For my son and myself, we have never had such great friends or as solid a community as we had at the Saginaw Latin Mass.”

Father: “It’s the only catholic faith community that I felt heard and connected.”

Mother: “The Holy Family TLM doesn’t just represent a Mass, it represents a community that holds each other accountable and dear at the same time.”

Mother: “The community at this Mass is something very special. To be with people who love the faith and the Holy Liturgy is a wonderful blessing! The TLM community has become like family in a few short years and they genuinely care and support me and my family.”

Young father: “[The Holy Family TLM] allowed our family to experience a true and organic parish family with unity and joy celebrated outside of Mass as well… we felt at home with the Latin Mass community.”

Another young father: “TLM has been beyond amazing for our family and my marriage. Holy Family especially is the first TLM Mass where it has truly felt like a community… [the “pause”] has been very difficult and hard on us, especially my kids. My daughter cries every week because she misses our old church.”

Another young father: “The reverence and sense of community from EVERYONE that attends is something that I have never had before, and I’ve lived in this Diocese my entire life.”

Young woman: “I’ve been devastated and heartbroken by this pause and I’m really concerned about the future of our TLM community… I miss the beautiful community that we’ve built.”

Teenager: “The “pause” has been a really painful event for me and my family… I miss the beautiful community life and events that were built into the Latin Mass Community.”

Young woman: “The TLM has been such a blessing in giving each of us a true community that prays together and uplifts each other. In the face of demonic oppression, I had fellowship. In sadness I had company. In happiness, celebrations.”

…and sixteen more! Remember, there was no prompting to mention the “community,” but these people just could not stop talking about the beautiful and welcoming community in their survey responses.

It cannot be emphasized enough: this accusation is nothing more than a character attack on an entire community; it is the exact opposite of true. My family has never felt more welcomed by a group than by Holy Family’s TLM community, and my family has never felt less welcomed by a group than by Holy Family’s current parish leadership.

(17) And this may be the reason why the Latin Mass has not grown like it should.

The Mass has grown in spite of substantial restrictions! We are banned from advertising, we are banned from being in the bulletin, we can’t have daily Masses, we can’t have requiems, and still we have continued to grow. In fact, the bitter irony is that the very Mass in which our pastor gave his original admonishment was packed full of new faces, many of whom we sadly have not seen since.

(18) After a careful reflection, I have directed the extraordinary form of the Mass, the Holy Family, started with a renewed vision of clear expectations, to help heal the divisions within the body of Christ. Examples of this renewed vision and expectations include… Announcements shall not be made prior to Mass. All announcements related to Mass or receive approval by the pastor and announced by him at the appropriate time after the gospel.

The pre-Mass announcements started as a necessity, as our pastor from 2020-2024 was unable to offer the TLM and thus give parish announcements himself. Particularly after the release of Traditionis Custodes in June 2021, it was of utmost importance that souls in the pews be kept abreast of the situation regarding the Mass. Our pastors had always approved of this. If at any point, our pastor had expressed concern about these, we would have immediately stopped. He never did.

(19) Financial support of the parish is not limited to the building fund…

Even if, somehow, you are able to convince yourself that a family giving their own money to a parish’s building fund is a “bad thing,” we have it on good authority that less than 15% of tithes from the TLM community were actually earmarked for the building fund.

One last note: the accusation has been spread, in various channels, that the TLM community at Holy Family had somehow “driven out” our previous two pastors with our behavior. This is manifestly untrue. We have spoken to both of our former pastors, and they explicitly deny such an allegation, and have ironically commented that we made them feel “welcomed.” The bishop knows this is false. To quote explicitly from one of our previous pastors:

“I was not driven out of Holy Family by the TLM or anyone else. Please feel free to tell anyone that the TLM was not the cause of my departure from Holy Family.”

It bears repeating: this accusation is totally, manifestly false.

After four months, Holy Family parish leadership invited “all parishioners” to a meeting on Sunday, March 1, at 2PM. We are thankful for the open forum that was provided, and for the plentiful brave souls who gave testimony to their experience – from 90-year-old women to 17-year-old altar boys, and everyone in between. However, once again, we were not allowed to dialogue with our pastor, and he was not to answer any of our pressing questions.

What we desire is not merely a platform, or the ability to “get things off our chest,” but an actual, constructive relationship with our pastor and parish leadership going forward. What this would require, at a minimum, is a public retraction of all the false and uncharitable allegations that have been made, and a wholesale apology for the actions that have so damaged our Catholic community.

“The Holy Family parish leadership took what was – by far – the healthiest, most hopeful, fruitful, vocation-rich and fully alive community in the Diocese of Saginaw… and crushed it.”

How could this happen? What could prompt a parish to be so seemingly self-destructive as to crush the Mass most fully packed with young families in the entire diocese?

The explanation cannot simply be that the people in charge at Holy Family are bad actors. They are not; they are upstanding men and women who love their families and certainly love their church. Rather, something larger is at play, a social-spiritual pathology that results in a parish receiving an influx of young families not with open arms, but with hostility and suspicion.

In the coming weeks, the Confessor will be exploring the undercurrents that led to such a tragic situation. We have discovered, in the aftermath, that what happened at Holy Family is not unique; rather, Holy Family is in many ways a microcosm of the present Church and society.

Stay tuned as we try to unpack it all, and in the meantime, keep everyone involved in your earnest prayers.

• “it had been brewing/building for some time”;

• “it was death by a thousand cuts”;

• “it was a slow boil”;

• “it was a long time coming”;

• “things just finally reached a tipping point.”

These and other favorites of the Irreconcilable Differences crowd tend to refer to a gradual growth of animosity, an accumulation of ill will that snowballs over time. They describe an increasing enmity that passes through phases of toleration and annoyance into outright resentment, before reaching a proverbial “tipping point,” when some poor, otherwise-trivial incident is said to have caused the entire relationship to irreparably implode. Thus the divorcee, when asked what horror could have possibly justified his tearing asunder what God hath joined, will begin reciting a laundry list of complaints, often petty and vague, before arriving at the climax of the story – in which an inconsiderate text, a discarded leftover meal, or a forgotten date is cited as the Point of No Return. Sensing that the interlocuter might not be convinced that such an act deserved such a permanent reaction, our divorcee explains: “well, it may not seem like much, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

The power of such rhetoric, of course, is that it serves to magically absolve the orator from having to justify his own actions as being proportionate to the perceived offense. He has admitted that the offense itself was miniscule – mere straw – but expects that the existence of untold previous injustices will excuse his seemingly inappropriate response. The criticism of a particular act requires proof; the criticism of a “general pattern of behavior” seems free from such a burden. It is much like accusing a given group of people of being “unwelcoming,” “holier than thou,” or possessing an “air of disobedience”: phrases somehow immune from the general rules of having to back up a charge with evidence. Accuse a specific man of uncharity and you can expect to receive a demand for receipts. Accuse a community of vaguely “being unwelcoming” and you will likely receive the Uncritical Nod of Understanding. Ah, yes, say no more.

The Catholic and “Accumulated Ill Will”

I propose to you that Divorce Excuses are not just bad because they are used to excuse divorces. Nor is the problem with these fuzzy phrases limited to their propensity to cause unjust damage to reputations. Rather, these sayings ought to be excised from the Catholic vocabulary because they are an admission of one’s own critical failure to handle life’s inevitable conflicts and undertake the necessary work of reconciliation.

Life is but one long straw spreading exercise. We are 8 billion free and fallen wills, audaciously attempting to inhabit the same sphere. We ought to be conscious to minimize the unnecessary straw we spread onto the backs of our neighbors, but even those acting in complete good faith will run into misunderstandings; even sentences uttered with innocent intent will hurt the occasional feeling; even expressions of love will be taken as offenses. The husband sees his overwhelmed wife and offers what he believes will be a much-needed hug; the wife, fresh off a 16-hour shift of being treated as a human jungle gym by younglings, would really rather not be touched right now.

And that’s assuming we’re acting virtuously! Imagine if sin were to enter the fold – selfishness, greed, pride, envy, impatience, and other vices that human beings have been long-rumored to possess. Can a man tread this Earth under such conditions and expect his toes to avoid the occasional trampling?

A Catholic is called to both admonish the sinner and to forgive his enemies, but he is not permitted to allow animosity and resentment to secretly well up within him. “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone,” commands Our Lord. This is not optional; fraternal correction is a social responsibility, an “act of charity”1 that dignifies the accused with an opportunity for explaining the perceived straw, so frequently found to be not of malice, but misunderstanding. As dust only accumulates on the surfaces one refuses to use and clean, enmity can only “build up” within the soul of a Catholic who refuses to address extant issues directly, or else to forgive gratuitously.

The “divorcee,” running through his rolodex of Excuses, is telling on himself. He has confessed to a severe dereliction of his duty to resolve the conflicts that arise under his realm of authority, whether his realm be a family or a parish. He is admitting to a destructive failure to reconcile. And his favored Parable of the Camel does nothing more than to expose the reality that should be obvious to all: if a piece of straw broke a camel’s back, there was something gravely wrong with that camel.

I had no idea what to make of the Latin Mass. I didn’t speak a lick of the language; I didn’t recognize a single tune played; I couldn’t even tell where we were in the liturgy. But contrary to narrow, modern, effeminate conceptions of “welcoming,” this bewilderment was far from repellant. No; I was drawn in. I was intrigued. I had been confronted with something much greater than I, a mystery that I could not grasp. This thing I had beheld was intimidating, demanding – and I wanted more.

By and by, one gets a feel for this ancient liturgy. Before long, one can’t get enough. A month passes, and my wife and I are humming 1,000-year-old Mass parts to each other while doing dishes mid-week. The liturgy has taken root in the soul.

The next phase is social; I want to meet these strange fellow travelers who have also discovered this pearl of great price. Who are these fervent bearded young men? Where do these beautiful veiled women come from? Do all of those children in that pew really belong to one family?

And then you meet them, and they seem like the most wonderful people in the world. And then they invite your family into their homes, and you decide that they might actually be the most wonderful people in the world. You meet their children, and are so bowled over by the maturity, intelligence, and humility of that twelve-year-old that you go home and google “how to homeschool your kids” for the first time.

And then you go through hard times with these people, and it confirms that they really are the most charitable souls you have ever known – that the virtue is not a mask, nor a persona, but a reality. And the love only deepens.

And Sunday at 3PM until ~6PM becomes the center of your week. And this Mass, and this community, becomes the center of your life. Kneeling alongside these people you love; a baby on a shoulder in every pew; soaking in the angelic motets; the air thick with incense and gravity; worshipping Our Lord Jesus Christ together. Smack in the middle of the most dangerous segment of God’s Own Saginaw. Nothing has ever felt more like home.

And it may well be the case that we will never experience something so beautiful in this life again.

On we will fight, for the salvation of our souls, for the sanctity of our families, for the flourishing of the body of Christ in this troubled slice of land we inhabit. But we ought not expect to replicate what we once had at Holy Family. Truly, that may have been the closest glimpse of Heaven that we will get on this side of the veil.

Sancta Familia, ora pro nobis.

Show me what a man tends to argue about, and I will show you where his heart lies. If a man cares deeply about professional sports, that is the arena in which the majority of his debates will occur. Who is the greatest basketball player of all time? Is Belichick an elite coach without Brady? Is the pitch-clock actually good for baseball?

Argument is a sign of vitality in a community of humans. A real, healthy, dynamic, family is going to have arguments. Yet, when the trad Catholic is at it again, making a passionate ruckus about the fittingness of worship, the importance of restoring the sense of the sacred, or the need to firmly defend traditional morality, the modern Church tends to view it as an ill, rather than the very sign of life that the Church so desperately craves.

Debate is the domain of mankind. The angels do not debate, for they possess the Truth in its full, and their wills are fixed. The lower creatures do not resolve disagreements with syllogisms and proofs, but with ‘tooth and claw.’ It is only the human, that social creature made in the Triune God’s image, who spars intellectually. When humans love something, they fight over it.

But modern Catholic parishes are spiritually bloodless. By and large, the souls attending Mass are not spending significant time thinking, reading, or discussing the Faith. The Church and Her thriving are of peripheral concern to the average American Catholic; they are far more likely to spend time worrying about their favorite sports teams, a topic they are certainly more willing to argue about. We have become so accustomed to this sedated, lethargic Church environment that any sign of real activity seems unruly, even violent in comparison.

This is the key to understanding the so-called problem of the “divisive trads”: anyone who has ever fought for anything could be accused of being “divisive.” The Second Vatican Council described the Church as being “at the same time holy and always in need of renewal” (Lumen Gentium, 8), but any movement to “renew” the Church will necessarily “divide” the Church into segments: those who agree with the proposed renewal; those who believe it to be going in the wrong direction; those who believe it to be going in the right direction but too far, or not far enough, etc.

St. Francis of Assisi was a radically divisive figure. Indeed, he would be joined on the “Litany of Divisive Saints” by St. Joan of Arc, St. Catherine of Sienna, St. Ignatius of Loyola, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Philip Neri, and so on, who fought in the service of the Lord who bellowed: “Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” (Luke 12:51)

Unnecessary and ill-spirited fighting that leads to the tearing apart of a family is unquestionably of Satan. But the proper correction would not be to decrease discussion, but to increase charity; to emphasize again, and again, in spite of our fallen natures, in spite of our pride and emotions, the need for charity.

From a worldly perspective, one can understand why some diocesan officials would wish for a less troublesome body of Christ, a quieter diocese, with fewer quarrels. But with human beings, such an absence of noise signals an absence of life. A genuinely “trouble-free” diocese is in the gravest trouble of all.

Raphael’s La Disputa del Sacramento (The Disputation of the Holy Sacrament), depicting theologians, popes, and saints passionately debating the nature of the Eucharist.

The TLM community in mid-Michigan is very much alive; it is vibrant, it is active, and her members care about the Faith more than any local body of believers I have ever come across, even to the point of being obsessed with it, if such a charge could be made. To criticize us for being more boisterous than the average parish is to criticize the playground for being more rambunctious than the cemetery. Are we prideful? Guilty as charged. The devotees to the TLM need to pray every day for an increase in humility and charity – as do all Catholics of good will – but never for a decrease in fortitude. A Church that vigorously combats heresies and laxity from within and foes from without is at her radical best. As Franciscan University Professor Andrew Willard Jones reflects:

“When (the Church is) being true to herself she will always be seen fighting. She will always be obnoxious to the world. It is when we don’t see her fighting that we should worry that she is betraying her nature, that an apostasy is underway.” (“Let’s Fight,” First Things)

So go ahead and critique our arguments; call us out when our humility and prudence fail. But do not make the mistake of painting the Mid-Michigan TLM community’s pluck and passion as an ill in of itself. Rather, recognize that this community is refreshingly alive.

And living things fight.