An alternative Catholic church exists in Buizingen.
“Who takes this bread and eats,” he murmured, cracking a communion wafer
with his wife at his side, “declares a desire for a new world.”
With those words, Mr. Delsaert, 60, and his fellow parishioners are
discreetly pioneering a grass-roots movement that defies centuries of Roman Catholic Church doctrine by worshiping and sharing communion without a priest.
Don Bosco is one of about a dozen alternative Catholic churches that
have sprouted and grown in the last two years in Dutch-speaking regions
of Belgium
and the Netherlands.
They are an uneasy reaction to a combination of
forces: a shortage of priests, the closing of churches, dissatisfaction
with Vatican appointments of conservative bishops and, most recently,
dismay over cover-ups of sexual abuse by priests.
The churches are called ecclesias, the word derived from the Greek verb
for “calling together.”
Five were started last year in the Netherlands
by Catholics who broke away from their existing parishes, and more are
being planned, said Franck Ploum, who helped start an ecclesia in January in Breda, the Netherlands, and is organizing a network conference for the groups in the two countries.
At this sturdy brick church southwest of Brussels, men and women are
trained as “conductors.”
They preside over Masses and the landmarks of
life: weddings and baptisms, funerals and last rites.
Church members
took charge more than a year ago when their pastor retired without a
successor.
In Belgium, about two-thirds of clergymen are over 55, and
one-third older then 65.
“We are resisting a little bit like Gandhi,” said Johan Veys, a married
former priest who performs baptisms and recruits newcomers for other
tasks at Don Bosco.
“Our intention is not to criticize, but to live
correctly. We press onward quietly without a lot of noise. It’s
important to have a community where people feel at home and can find
peace and inspiration.”
Yet they appear to be on a collision course with the Vatican and the
Catholic Church in Belgium.
The Belgian church has been staggering from a sexual abuse scandal with 475 victims, and the resignation of the bishop of Bruges, Roger Vangheluwe, who last April admitted to years of molesting a boy who turned out to be his nephew.
In the view of Rome, only ordained priests can celebrate Mass or preside
over most sacraments like baptisms and marriage.
“If there are persons
or groups that do not observe these norms, the competent bishops — who
know what really happens — have to see how to intervene and explain what
is in order and out of order if someone belongs to the Catholic
Church,” the Rev. Federico Lombardi, director of the Vatican press
office, said.
The primate of Belgium, Archbishop André-Joseph Léonard of
Mechelen-Brussels, has already raised objections to the alternative
services, calling them “unacceptable practices.”
But he declined to
respond to questions, maintaining a pledge to keep silent until
December.
He was engulfed in controversy this month after he criticized
prosecution of elderly priests for pedophile acts as “vengeance” and
described AIDS as a “sort of inherent justice” for promiscuous
homosexual acts.
For some Catholics in the ecclesia movement and academics at the
Catholic University of Louvain, Archbishop Léonard is emblematic of a
remote church disconnected from a flock that yearns for more relevant
rituals and active participation.
“Something is beginning to crack,” said the Rev. Gabriel Ringlet, a
priest and former vice rector at the Catholic University of Louvain,
which is considering dropping the “Catholic” from its name.
“I think the
Belgian Catholic Church is starting to feel something exceptional for
the first time in 40 years. A lot of Catholics are waking up and
speaking out.”
In Bruges, the city at the center of the church’s pedophilia scandal, an alternative Catholic group called De Lier
tackles the church scandals in its weekly services.
De Lier — The Lyre
in Dutch — holds weekly services in a school chapel with a rotation of
two men, two women and a priest.
In recent services, church members read
fragments from a Belgian church commission report
that examined the plight of victims of child sex abuse.
They expressed
shame about a church that hushed reports of sexual abuse and used
lawyerly language to avoid apology.
They have also simplified and personalized rituals, emphasizing the
importance of community.
Typically, they gather around a table with
ceramic cups for wine and a round loaf of bread, and members are asked
to recount a story of their joy and grief from the week before.
“We are looking for ways to live faith in a modern way,” said Karel
Ceule, a Lier member. “If you look at the crisis today with Archbishop
Léonard, he is a symbol of an old, conservative church. In Flanders,
this doesn’t work anymore. We have reached a stage of history where we
don’t accept that the priest has to be the go-between. We want to take
charge of baptisms and communion.”
Some of the bishops in the Netherlands and Belgium have been quietly
gathering information about the alternative churches, meeting with some
of their members.
Peter Rossel, a spokesman for Jozef De Kesel, the new
bishop of Bruges, said the prelate was aware of the groups, but would
not visit them anytime soon.
“Now he has other priorities. He has many
problems with the whole issue of sexual abuse,” Mr. Rossel said.
In the meantime, members of these groups say they make no secret of
what they are doing, especially if changes come about because of the
lack of priests.
“If you ask the diocese officially about this, they say
you may not do it,” said Bart Vanvolsem, a member of Don Bosco.
“They
say if there is no priest, there is no Mass. But Christ is here.”
In the early stages at Don Bosco, some people complained that services
took too long. Others were distracted by the intimacy of gathering
around a long wooden table. Some members didn’t want to lead a service.
“I am still too traditional to do it myself,” Barbara Birkhölzer-Klein
said. “What is happening here is totally natural, but I can’t do this
yet.”
Mr. Delsaert had no such qualms. He donned a rainbow sash — the church’s
symbol of a worship leader — and carried his notes.
“It’s the second
time,” he said. “For me, it’s very intense. Reading is very difficult
for me because I have dyslexia.”
Almost 150 people gathered around him for a service organized by teenage
members who picked a theme of peace and music from John Lennon and Paul
McCartney.
Mr. Delsaert delivered a homespun sermon that drew on his years as a
railroad worker, urging parishioners to wage peace by talking to people
in their daily lives.
By bidding hello to a daily commuter, Mr. Delsaert
said, “the man opened up to talk about train delays.”
“He seemed much happier,” Mr. Delsaert said.
During services, teenage members surrounded the table while a parish
statement was read aloud: “We regret the pain caused by priests and
those responsible in the church. We regret the damages to the victims,
to the community and our church.”
Then a young girl lighted a rainbow-colored candle in the center of the
table.
She watched the flame flicker in memory of the 475 Belgian
victims of sexual abuse.
SIC: NYT/INT'L