May 8, 2005

Here there be dragons

Action figures help 4-year-old James comprehend the fight against ‘Subtle Heresy.’

Timid Catholics are regularly horrified by my way of teaching my godchildren about the church. I want them to love the church and be realistic about the people in it at the same time, and I don’t think my 4-year-old godson is too young for this. So we play Catholic games.

My favorite game lately is the one in which James and I join Bishop Kurtz in his thrilling battles against the dragon Subtle Heresy. Subtle Heresy is a particularly bad dragon because he renders blind those who listen to his voice. He has a seductive voice, this dragon, and thus our hero regularly finds himself hampered by people who do not see the dragon at all—or even worse, who insist that he isn’t a dragon.

Fortunately, Bishop Kurtz has his sword of truth, which all bishops have but some refuse to use. In our games our bishop never does that. He always defeats the terrible dragon with cunning arguments or brilliant swordplay—depending on who is telling the story—and in the process makes it possible for all who have been tricked by the dragon to see clearly again.

Of course, that works fine for fostering a sense of the grandeur and romance of sound theology, but what of the unpleasant reality that not everyone in the hierarchy lives up to the ideal? For that we have the cardinal action figures: high-tech toys available to anyone with triangular red blocks and a permanent marker. Cardinal Law demonstrates (in a veiled, age-appropriate manner) the dire things that can happen to a diocese when its shepherd refuses to use his sword of truth or even his stick of prudent administration. Meanwhile, Cardinal Mahoney covers the ugly liturgy and architecture angle.

Is this a bit disrespectful? Maybe. But James is learning a lot of things that I don’t think he’s old enough to grasp any other way—for instance, that there are evil and error in the world, and they fight against good. That there are people whose opinions you listen to and others whom you don’t. That it is the job of the bishop to protect his people and defend the faith; those who do it are heroic, but those who don’t harm themselves and others. Does James understand it all? No, but he understands more than you’d expect.

I’m not just thinking about now. All parents know that sooner or later their child will come home and ask why Father or Sister or Teacher so-and-so told them something that contradicts the faith as you’ve taught it and as it actually is. And you’re going to have to deal with the idea that authority figures in the church can be wrong and yet the church still be holy and the faith still true.

I think being able to start with “You remember when we used to talk about that dragon, Subtle Heresy? Well, your teacher has been listening to him . . .” may well be a useful introduction. The concepts will be there when the need to use them arises.

I already have some evidence that it works. Cardinal Ratzinger was one of our most beloved action figures. For some reason (probably me) James believed Ratzinger’s primary mission was to rescue self-obsessed theological madmen from themselves by reminding them of reality. Cardinal Ratzinger was always flinging himself into rooms, screaming: “Stop it, you megalomaniacs; you are not God!”

James and I were watching TV, waiting to find out who our next pope would be and debating whether to make a new white action figure or just buy the red one a tiara. The network featured the usual embittered baby-boomer theologian, who was droning on and on about how Joseph Ratzinger would be the worst possible choice. I observed to James that this guy didn’t like our cardinal. James said, “He doesn’t like Cardinal Ratzinger? Is he one of those megalomaniacs who thinks he’s the center of the universe?”

“Yep,” I replied.

“Well,” James said, “I’m not going to listen to him then.”

My point exactly.

Ginger Hutton is a parishioner of St. Mary Church in Oak Ridge and a full-time godmother.