The Wise Masked Chicken Speaks on Francis

Vocal disappointment with and disapproval of Pope Francis  is a line increasingly taken by conservative Catholics, at least those you read on the web. People who were once ardent and uncritical papalists are now making a point of telling others how little they think of the pope they’ve got now — they respect the office, of course, of course, but that doesn’t mean . . .

As indeed it doesn’t. But it does call to mind the caterpillar’s line from the animated version of Alice in Wonderland: “And whooo . . . are . . . youuu?” (Here is the text.) A “Masked Chicken” offered some wisdom on this, which I quoted in the “While We’re At It” section of First Things last May after Francis was elected. It comes in the second item below. I include the first because it amuses me.

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♦ We all gathered in the editor’s office when the white smoke appeared, setting his computer to the NBC website, otherwise known as the network on which George Weigel appears. As we waited, and it seemed to take forever, one junior fellow stood, the other perched on the end of the couch close to the computer. For a while, the editor lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Several of us sat editing or writing, because deadlines are deadlines, new pope or no new pope.

Then the doors opened and Cardinal Tauran came out. When he announced the new pope’s name, we said together in chorus, earnestly and energetically, with millions and millions of Catholics around the world: “ Who ?” It would have been nice had the cardinal spoken clearly.

Articles on Cardinal Bergoglio taken from the web were quickly passed around, and hearts were cheered and spirits raised.

♦ Not everyone felt like this. Within seconds of the announcement, displeased Catholics started blogging and tweeting, and the result was not pretty. Rumors were taken as facts, and facts were given the most negative possible reading. Ad hominem remarks abounded. Even the secular press waited a day or so before starting in on Francis, but not a certain segment of Catholics.

Others besides us found this rush to discontent a problem. On Fr. John Zuhlsdorf’s popular weblog, someone who calls himself “the Masked Chicken” (he must have a reason for the name, but it’s hard to imagine what it could be) chided the critics. “When St. John Vianney was asked by some priests why their churches were losing members, he asked them, point blank, ‘Have you fasted for them? Have you prayed all night? Have you done penances?’”

If, said Mr. Chicken, “for every criticism of the Pope you wished to make online, you were to pay for the privilege by first performing an act of real charity for someone in secret (for you cannot be certain that the comment you planned on making is such), then we would have a holier Church and a lot more gentle comments.”

“I have not earned the privilege to speak about what I think the Pope should or should not do,” he wrote. Learning to say the right thing at the right time “is a gift that comes only after you have learned to die to self and the best start for that is humility, detachment, and charity.”