This should bring back some memories. 
GERRY MATATICS MIMICS HOWARD DEAN
The former governor of Vermont has been the object of jokes on late-night talk shows because of his now-famous scream, issued after he came in third in the Iowa caucuses.
Last week I was the object of screaming by Gerry Matatics. After thirteen years' absence, he came to San Diego to give a talk. The evening ended with him gesticulating and yelling at me at the top of his lungs. It was a weird and disturbing sight.
During the question period that followed his talk, someone asked whether an unbaptized person could go to heaven. Matatics--who a decade ago declared that he had undergone a "second conversion" and had moved from conservative Catholic to Traditionalist Catholic--gave an answer that closed heaven's gate to almost anyone who is not a formal member of the Catholic Church.
The followers of the late Fr. Leonard Feeney, who was best known for his rigorist interpretation of "no salvation outside the Church," exist on a narrow but real spectrum. Some, such as Matatics's friends at the New Hampshire-based Saint Benedict Center, are at one end and say a person must be a formal member of the Catholic Church to be saved. They take the most hardline position.
Other Feeneyites permit a little more leeway but still end up with a position that is more rigorous than that taught by the Catechism of the Catholic Church (846-848) or by Vatican II (Lumen Gentium 16) or by the most conservative pope of the nineteenth century, Pius IX. Feeneyites leave either no or little room for "invincible ignorance."
Matatics, who at his seminars used to distribute literature from the Saint Benedict Center, makes a tiny distinction between that group's position and his own and uses that distinction to claim that he is not really a Feeneyite. (If not, why distribute the most hardline Feeneyite literature?)
Unlike the Saint Benedict Center, he is open to the possibility that a catechumen who desires baptism but who dies before being baptized might be saved through what is commonly called "baptism of desire." But such a catechumen's salvation is not sure, says Matatics. It might be that he is not saved after all.
Anyone further removed from the Catholic Church would have even less hope--or no hope--of salvation. This would include not just the unbaptized but also Protestants. (Matatics has said in public that he expects his own parents to go to hell, because they remain Protestants.)
In Church history there cannot have been many cases of catechumens dying on the way to their baptisms. As a practical matter, therefore, Matatics's position reduces to the position of the Saint Benedict Center: Formal members of the Catholic Church are saved, and everyone else is lost.
The members of the Saint Benedict Center indisputably deserve the moniker "Feeneyite." In my opinion, Matatics does too. After all, there are Feeneyites who are more generous than he is in their interpretation of "no salvation outside the Church." He is midway along a narrow spectrum, but he is still on the spectrum.
Although for years Matatics has adopted a position almost indistinguishable from that of the Saint Benedict Center, the members of which do not object to being called "Feeneyites," he has insisted that the label should not be applied to him.
One can understand his reluctance: Being identified with a fringe movement is not a good way to ensure speaking engagements. But "pigs is pigs," and Matatics should cease objecting to a label that fits.
He has espoused the Feeneyite understanding of salvation but has been unwilling to go by the Feeneyite designation. He embraces the theory but not the name of the theory. He has not been candid with his audiences and so has done them a disservice.
THE SCREAM
Toward the end of the evening, Matatics referred to my January 13 E-Letter, which may be found at:
www.catholic.com/newsletters/kke_040113.asp
In that E-Letter I wrote about "The Point," a little journal printed by Feeney's original group in the 1950s. I listed the titles of the twelve issues published in 1957. All but one was about Jews and the problems they allegedly cause. I said that Feeney's group was "preoccupied with the Jews, to the point of obsession."
Not so, said Matatics. The Feeneyites were not obsessed with Jews. They simply were concerned about the salvation of Jews. I rolled my eyes.
In the U.S. of the 1950s, Jews were outnumbered by Protestants. They also were outnumbered by people of no religion. Jews then, as now, represented about two percent of the American population. Subtract Catholics from the mix, and Jews represented about three percent of the population.
So why were eleven out of twelve issues of "The Point" focused on perceived problems with Jews? Where were the articles about Protestants, members of Eastern religions, and unbelievers? They, too, by Feeneyite standards, are not on the road to salvation. Why so much supposed solicitude for Jews but not for Baptists or Hindus or agnostics?
I reminded Matatics's audience that Feeney's men used to go to Boston Common and give public lectures. When talking about Jews, they used slurs such as "kike."
A woman in the small audience asked what "kike" meant. I explained that, with respect to Jews, it was the analogue of the "n-word."
Someone using the latter word to refer to blacks is suspected of racism--and rightly so. Similarly, someone using "kike" to refer to Jews is suspected of anti-Semitism.
Matatics turned up the volume. His friends at the Saint Benedict Center were not anti-Semites, he yelled.
I didn't say they were, I replied. I had been writing about the original Feeneyite group of the 1950s. In my E-Letter I noted that today's Saint Benedict Center reprints articles from "The Point." I asked whether today's group repudiates the anti-Semitism of the 1950s. My words were lost in the din caused by Matatics and his fans.
He was visibly agitated. His voice went from a yell to a scream and eventually broke. He was on a rant. I couldn't make out what he was saying, and I couldn't get a word in.
But I could get out. I was standing by the door, and I went through it, Matatics screaming after me. I was relieved that he didn't chase me as I made for the hotel's exit.
As I stood in the night chill, several people gathered around me, shaking their heads at what they had witnessed. One smiled consolingly and said the evening had reduced my time in purgatory.
Maybe, maybe not. But I know it reduced, almost to oblivion, the residual regard I had for Gerry Matatics, and it reaffirmed my belief that he would do the Church a favor by finding another line of work.
Pax Vobiscum,
John
GERRY MATATICS MIMICS HOWARD DEAN
The former governor of Vermont has been the object of jokes on late-night talk shows because of his now-famous scream, issued after he came in third in the Iowa caucuses.
Last week I was the object of screaming by Gerry Matatics. After thirteen years' absence, he came to San Diego to give a talk. The evening ended with him gesticulating and yelling at me at the top of his lungs. It was a weird and disturbing sight.
During the question period that followed his talk, someone asked whether an unbaptized person could go to heaven. Matatics--who a decade ago declared that he had undergone a "second conversion" and had moved from conservative Catholic to Traditionalist Catholic--gave an answer that closed heaven's gate to almost anyone who is not a formal member of the Catholic Church.
The followers of the late Fr. Leonard Feeney, who was best known for his rigorist interpretation of "no salvation outside the Church," exist on a narrow but real spectrum. Some, such as Matatics's friends at the New Hampshire-based Saint Benedict Center, are at one end and say a person must be a formal member of the Catholic Church to be saved. They take the most hardline position.
Other Feeneyites permit a little more leeway but still end up with a position that is more rigorous than that taught by the Catechism of the Catholic Church (846-848) or by Vatican II (Lumen Gentium 16) or by the most conservative pope of the nineteenth century, Pius IX. Feeneyites leave either no or little room for "invincible ignorance."
Matatics, who at his seminars used to distribute literature from the Saint Benedict Center, makes a tiny distinction between that group's position and his own and uses that distinction to claim that he is not really a Feeneyite. (If not, why distribute the most hardline Feeneyite literature?)
Unlike the Saint Benedict Center, he is open to the possibility that a catechumen who desires baptism but who dies before being baptized might be saved through what is commonly called "baptism of desire." But such a catechumen's salvation is not sure, says Matatics. It might be that he is not saved after all.
Anyone further removed from the Catholic Church would have even less hope--or no hope--of salvation. This would include not just the unbaptized but also Protestants. (Matatics has said in public that he expects his own parents to go to hell, because they remain Protestants.)
In Church history there cannot have been many cases of catechumens dying on the way to their baptisms. As a practical matter, therefore, Matatics's position reduces to the position of the Saint Benedict Center: Formal members of the Catholic Church are saved, and everyone else is lost.
The members of the Saint Benedict Center indisputably deserve the moniker "Feeneyite." In my opinion, Matatics does too. After all, there are Feeneyites who are more generous than he is in their interpretation of "no salvation outside the Church." He is midway along a narrow spectrum, but he is still on the spectrum.
Although for years Matatics has adopted a position almost indistinguishable from that of the Saint Benedict Center, the members of which do not object to being called "Feeneyites," he has insisted that the label should not be applied to him.
One can understand his reluctance: Being identified with a fringe movement is not a good way to ensure speaking engagements. But "pigs is pigs," and Matatics should cease objecting to a label that fits.
He has espoused the Feeneyite understanding of salvation but has been unwilling to go by the Feeneyite designation. He embraces the theory but not the name of the theory. He has not been candid with his audiences and so has done them a disservice.
THE SCREAM
Toward the end of the evening, Matatics referred to my January 13 E-Letter, which may be found at:
www.catholic.com/newsletters/kke_040113.asp
In that E-Letter I wrote about "The Point," a little journal printed by Feeney's original group in the 1950s. I listed the titles of the twelve issues published in 1957. All but one was about Jews and the problems they allegedly cause. I said that Feeney's group was "preoccupied with the Jews, to the point of obsession."
Not so, said Matatics. The Feeneyites were not obsessed with Jews. They simply were concerned about the salvation of Jews. I rolled my eyes.
In the U.S. of the 1950s, Jews were outnumbered by Protestants. They also were outnumbered by people of no religion. Jews then, as now, represented about two percent of the American population. Subtract Catholics from the mix, and Jews represented about three percent of the population.
So why were eleven out of twelve issues of "The Point" focused on perceived problems with Jews? Where were the articles about Protestants, members of Eastern religions, and unbelievers? They, too, by Feeneyite standards, are not on the road to salvation. Why so much supposed solicitude for Jews but not for Baptists or Hindus or agnostics?
I reminded Matatics's audience that Feeney's men used to go to Boston Common and give public lectures. When talking about Jews, they used slurs such as "kike."
A woman in the small audience asked what "kike" meant. I explained that, with respect to Jews, it was the analogue of the "n-word."
Someone using the latter word to refer to blacks is suspected of racism--and rightly so. Similarly, someone using "kike" to refer to Jews is suspected of anti-Semitism.
Matatics turned up the volume. His friends at the Saint Benedict Center were not anti-Semites, he yelled.
I didn't say they were, I replied. I had been writing about the original Feeneyite group of the 1950s. In my E-Letter I noted that today's Saint Benedict Center reprints articles from "The Point." I asked whether today's group repudiates the anti-Semitism of the 1950s. My words were lost in the din caused by Matatics and his fans.
He was visibly agitated. His voice went from a yell to a scream and eventually broke. He was on a rant. I couldn't make out what he was saying, and I couldn't get a word in.
But I could get out. I was standing by the door, and I went through it, Matatics screaming after me. I was relieved that he didn't chase me as I made for the hotel's exit.
As I stood in the night chill, several people gathered around me, shaking their heads at what they had witnessed. One smiled consolingly and said the evening had reduced my time in purgatory.
Maybe, maybe not. But I know it reduced, almost to oblivion, the residual regard I had for Gerry Matatics, and it reaffirmed my belief that he would do the Church a favor by finding another line of work.
Pax Vobiscum,
John
