The People-Pleasing Vatican

'A celebrity who has opposed the Church shakes the pope’s hand. Does the pope come out a winner? Not unless we think that he needs more play on TikTok and YouTube.'

From Crisis

By Msgr Richard C. Antall

Seeking celebrity acceptance sacrifices seriousness and credibility. It is sad when leadership in the Church shows star-struck, stage door behavior.

One of the catch phrases you hear about and from people in recovery from addiction is the danger of “people pleasing.” It is the old concept from spiritual theology which used to be called “human respect.” The Stations of the Cross by St. Alphonsus Liguori refer to that in one of the meditations, and I try to give a gloss on it during Lent when we pray the Way of the Cross. “Human respect” treated as a negative value is the seeking of man’s approval instead of God’s. This can be because of fear of conflict, or intimidation, or because dissidence means we will not “fit in.”

People-pleasing gets us into trouble because we are more worried about others’ opinions than the judgment of God. It is the old situation St. Peter described in the Acts of the Apostles when the authorities of his society forbade him to preach Christ. His response was clear: “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Eventually, this led him to martyrdom.

Constantly seeking the high opinion of others makes cowards and hypocrites of us all. It is also behind the attraction of associating with celebrities, which makes some people ignore the demands of conscience. Celebrity is the fool’s gold of our society, and often fame is strangely misconstrued as an adjunct to authority. C.S. Lewis talks about the desire to be in the “inner ring.” Look at the “influencers” that abound on the Internet. Seriousness is sacrificed to glitter. 

But not only seriousness; credibility is also sacrificed. It is sad when leadership in the Church shows star-struck, stage door behavior. That is what I feel about the invitation to the Vatican of hundreds of “comedians” for some kind of vaudeville extravaganza. A night of a thousand stars celebrating their moment in the spotlight in the shadows of the tombs of the apostles.

We have no way of knowing how appropriate the invitation to performers from other nations is, but the U.S. comedians invited are a disgrace. Whoopi Goldberg is a paladin for the aborting of babies, and Stephen Colbert joked that Alabama’s abortion law took us back to the time of slavery, quipping that the bright side was that a pregnant woman now got to vote twice. Both are not comedians in the classic sense of the word but acerbic political satirists. Both are vulgarians and no strangers to political controversy. 

Their partisan animosity against President Trump knows no bounds of decency. I am thinking of the absolutely disgusting way Colbert characterized the relationship between Putin and Trump. Colbert claims to be a Catholic and was almost sentimental relating the fact that Cardinal Dolan asked for his prayers when the two met at a confirmation ceremony in which the television star served as a sponsor. The cardinal should ask him for more than prayers, maybe teach him the examination of conscience.

The rest of the guest list, with a few exceptions, is like something the hacks from People magazine might draw up: Jimmy Fallon and Conan O’Brien, both masters of cheap shots against the clergy, a lesbian comedienne who uses blasphemy to get laughs, the roster of invitees is more about celebrity than humor. How did the Kardashians get left out? They are social satirists in their own right; Jonathan Swift could not have invented a better skewing of American values than they act out every day.

Openness to people whose values are frankly antithetical to ours can sometimes seem evangelical, but it can also look like failure to hold our own principles. Couldn’t the Vatican have invited only those comedians who leaven ordinary life with humor instead of point men and women for worldly and anti-Christian values? What do we gain by having celebrities antagonistic to our beliefs parading around the Holy See. Their camaraderie of fame will be a special kind of photo opportunity, a comic Apocalypse with the Holy Father as host of the party. 

Remember the Woody Allen movie Zelig, where the chameleon-like character was so eager to fit in that he ended up everywhere? He inserted himself into all sorts of situations near the movers and shakers of the world. Seeing the nebbish little man next to Hitler and the pope and all manner of famous people was funny, but the movie was a satire of vacuous celebrity. It was all about superficiality. 

The shallowness of Leonard Zelig’s effort to be wherever the camera was led him to a psychiatrist. It is hardly likely there will be a moment for conversion when the comics from all over the world descend on the Vatican, which is what these particular jokers need. Has the pope become a kind of reverse Zelig, seeking validation by hanging out with the media icons?

The comedians gain publicity and, no doubt, will have much material to give to their writers to snark up into punch lines. The Church looks foolish. A celebrity who has opposed the Church shakes the pope’s hand. Does the pope come out a winner? Not unless we think that he needs more play on TikTok and YouTube. Will the comics next roast the Vicar of Christ? Will the show be taped and seen later on Amazon Prime or HBO? 
These court jesters are only serious when they are seriously wrong about something. They will not be influenced by being made much of by the Church, but their influence may be potentially greater. We are boosting the careers of these people, adding lines to their resumes and pictures to their Instagram accounts.

Some might argue that gentle pastoral attention to these performers may plant the seeds of conversion. Maybe not. I think they will feel validated, not challenged. 

That our bishops are silent about the scandal involved in inviting the likes of Whoopi Goldberg and Stephen Colbert to a papal variety show is a very serious example of a lack of critical discrimination. The successors of the apostles seem especially prone to a weakness for famous people, no matter how unexemplary they may be. Bishop Barron recently gave “three cheers” for Bill Maher because of a coincidence of opinion in one corner of society’s horizons. At least he could have said “two cheers,” which would show some self-respect. 

Our leaders seem terrified of seeming at odds with popular culture with any critical stance that might threaten our tax-exempt status or “turn off” some people, or stir up negative reaction. They want to sit with the cool kids in the cultural cafeteria and never be caught “on the wrong side of history” (damn Hegel and all his progeny).

Reinhold Niebuhr famously spoke about Christianity’s relationship with popular culture. He pointed out three possible dynamics: Christ against culture; Christ of culture (where there is an identification of the culture with Christian values); and Christ above culture. This last posture vis-à-vis popular culture can pretend that religion is the fulfillment of civilization, or it can recognize or live with the ongoing tension between a faith perspective and a merely worldly Weltanschauung (worldview), or it may mean the assumption of a mission to convert culture to Christ. 

I am not hopeful that the circus in Rome will have Niebuhrian ramifications. I am afraid that what might happen is that “culture,” instead of being challenged, will figure itself the fulfillment of the best part of religion, just the opposite of the idea of Christ above culture. The “we’re all in this together, let’s have a laugh” approach seems like the Church is trying to justify itself, fit in, please the makers of opinion, and convince them that, after all, we’re not such Puritans.

St. Paul’s “all things to all men” did not mean that he stooped to the level of the people’s ignorance but that he tried to elevate it. He did not die a martyr because he could see good in all people but because he wanted all people to be truly good. He was no Zelig seeking the approval of the pagans. He loved people so much that he did not want to just please them—he wanted to save their souls. He didn’t go to the Areopagus to hear myths and philosophy but to proclaim the Gospel. Isn’t that what the Dicastery for Communication should be working on?