Just out! Confessions of a Street Catholic
A seeker's guide to liberation theology, #weirdcatholicism, the Mestiza Empress, and more.
Maybe the best way to explain why I perpetrated this little book is a short self-interview…
What’s this book about?
It’s a collection of my very unauthorized, highly debatable and possibly wrongheaded opinions about one of the largest and oldest voluntary organizations in the world—the Roman Catholic Church.
Or as cradle Catholic James Joyce once referred to it, Here Comes Everybody.
Who’s the book for?
Anyone curious about what it’s like to be “inside” the Church. Turns out it’s actually quite roomy.
But more specifically, I wrote it for the following kinds of people:
Anyone who suspects that buried somewhere beneath the foundations of this tottering Catholic ecclesial culture are treasures of spirituality and even a kind of indigenous wisdom, however barnacle-encrusted, betrayed or forgotten.
Anyone who suspects that a good deal of what passes for American Catholic culture today is a lame imitation of evangelical culture--with even worse music and an equally compromised public witness (although the immigration crisis may be changing that, let us hope).
Anyone who suspects that Catholics in America were once risk-takers in their sense of justice, as demonstrated in their historical solidarity at certain moments with workers, with people of color, and with non-Americans, and that this kind of authentic witness could, just possibly, be recovered amidst our current cascading crises.
Anyone who hungers to be in solidarity with the poor, with what the Old Testament calls the anawim (Hebrew for the “poor ones” who remain faithful to God even in their distress), especially those in the global South who do not even have the possibility of having possibilities.
Anyone whose loyalty is first and foremost to the Gospel, not to nationality or local culture or politics or even a denomination.
Who won’t like this book?
It may annoy a certain kind of Catholic zealot due to its lack of concern for making sure everybody is rigorously catechized before we actually (or ever) get around to being faithful witnesses.
On the other hand, committed revolutionaries won’t like my wasting time with talk about devotions, contemplation, that kind of stuff.
Why are the chapters broken up into short sections?
I hope it sounds impressive to say I’m using “a mosaic approach”. Which is how my own conversion happened. First you notice this thing and then you notice that other thing—and eventually a bunch of small pieces have accumulated to show you something much bigger.
You seem to spend a lot of time in the book on Pope Francis and his writings. Are you a papolator?
I used to be. That was back when Pope John Paul II was in office. He could do no wrong. Not only infallible but impeccable.
But I no longer think that way. Pope Francis had his weaknesses—his enemies couldn’t stop calling everything he did “divisive”--but it’s not hard to separate him from his accomplishments.
Well I hope this book at least has an imprimatur!
Consumer alert: this book does not have an imprimatur.
An imprimatur, a Latin phrase meaning “let it be printed”, was an old-fashioned way of signaling the Catholic reader: “No worries, at least one bishop somewhere took a look at this book and couldn’t find anything that would damage your Catholic faith.”
I’ve only known one Catholic bishop personally, a nice enough chap. He was transferred to a distant state several years ago. Neither he nor anyone else in the hierarchy (that lovely term still in use) was consulted here. Just so you know.
I’ll add that I’m not trying to play here the familiar role of the Angry Catholic Dissident working out a personal grievance. Certainly many things about the institutional Church should make anyone angry but I’m not writing a jeremiad—more like a user’s guide in the form of a memoir.
After all, being a Catholic is not like being in the Army: you’re free to get up and walk out any time. (Although your parish will find you and continue sending those packets of weekly donation envelopes, wherever you go.)
So what follows in this book is simply a personal essay, not a work of sociology…
I asked a few people for their opinions of the book—
By turns learned, conversational and lyrical, Confessions of a Street Catholic invites readers to take faith, prophets (and there are so many), traditions and our responsibilities to one another, the earth and the future seriously. But Elias implores us to hold ourselves lightly in the process. I declare myself a Street Catholic, and I think you will too!
–Frida Berrigan, board member, War Resisters League, former Catholic Worker
This little book is a mix of deep ideas and everyday realities, serious theological struggles flavored with moments of profound emotional insight and struggle, and the ability to laugh at oneself and at a world that is absurd on its best days.
–Michael L. Budde, Ph.D., DePaul University (Chicago IL )
Confessions of a Street Catholic is an acute reading of the signs of the times as authoritarianism and climate change produce chaos and confusion here and abroad. We are indebted to Elias Crim for this effort of clarification of thought. Read this book and flourish!
–Edgar Rivera Colón, Ph.D., movement chaplain, spiritual director, and medical anthropologist
If, as the author suggests, “the time has come to grow our souls,” it will mean de-institutionalizing the Gospel to re-encounter its mystery, its simplicity, and above all its moral beauty. Confessions of a Street Catholic gives us a blueprint to begin this “revolution of conscience,” so sorely needed in a world that has lost its center.
--Michael Centore, editor, Tomorrow’s American Catholic
And finally, a description from the back cover of the print version (coming soon):
Street Catholic is both a personal memoir and an “unauthorized” guidebook that explores the global Catholic Church through the lens of social justice and reform.
Author Elias Crim reflects on a conversion journey that began in Chicago, contrasting “beige” institutional Catholicism with the radical witness of figures like Dorothy Day and the Polish Solidarity movement.
Offering here a critique of bourgeois Christianity, the author argues it must be replaced by ecclesial solidarity and the “preferential option for the poor” championed by Pope Francis and Pope Leo.
From a grounding in Catholic Social Thought, the author advocates for a “street” perspective that moves beyond comfortable pews to engage with marginalized communities and indigenous wisdom.
Ultimately, the book calls for a spiritual metanoia that rejects nationalism and wealth in favor of a humble, non-violent witness to the Gospel.
I love the spirit of this book… and the lineage it represents… you do a wonderful job of both preparing the reader and disarming the audience Elias. It is not easy to write about the Catholic Church, to be inside an institution, and to also love mercy and walk humbly with your God. But I trust you will show us a way…