"When you break the big laws, you do not get freedom, you do not even get anarchy. You get the small laws." And so we have the continuing melodrama in the Diocese of Charlotte, North Carolina.
By Robert B. Greving
Crisis Magazine
February 5, 2026
G.K. Chesterton said, "When you break the big laws, you do not get freedom, you do not even get anarchy. You get the small laws." And so we have the continuing melodrama in the Diocese of Charlotte, North Carolina.
Here's the situation: Bishop Michael Martin of Charlotte, in his zeal to implement Traditionis Custodes, has practically banished the TLM from his diocese. On December 17, he went further-forbidding the use of altar rails, kneelers, and prie-dieux in the reception of Communion. I suppose one must be grateful he didn't prescribe the cut of the priest's chasuble and require the parishioners to be searched for pre-1965 missals. In any event, about one-quarter of the priests of that diocese have now sent a dubia to the Vatican asking whether the bishop has the authority to do such a thing.
I shall leave it to the canon lawyers to sort out the legalities. It seems to point to a Catholic version of Bleak House with priests, bishops, and the Vatican wasting their time and our money with their small laws. And it is a quibble over small laws which has resulted from the breaking of big laws. The big laws were Tradition, which were smashed with the revisions to the Mass after Vatican II. This did not give freedom, nor did it-despite how many view the liturgical loopiness that ensued-give anarchy.
Instead, we got the small laws of liturgical directors and the even smaller laws of the personality of the priest who happens to be celebrating. Benedict XVI, in Summorum Pontificum, sought to alleviate this by saying, in so many words, it's fine if a priest wants to celebrate Mass the way it always used to be celebrated. "What was sacred for prior generations, remains sacred and great for us as well, and cannot be suddenly prohibited altogether or even judged harmful." Seems pretty simple-and big-to me.
But then came Traditionis Custodes. It was, in fact, a small law prescribing outlandish restrictions on the TLM, even to the point of telling parishes what they could or could not do in their bulletins regarding the TLM. Its justification was a survey which we have subsequently learned was dubious and manipulated. In truth, it was a panic against the growth of the TLM especially among the young and devout Catholics.
Small laws are a small-minded man's substitute for tradition. Having nothing to fall back on, he must make up-or try to make up-his own mores and culture. Being stuck in his own time and place, the results are usually warped and trendy. Small laws often come from pride and fear. Traditionis Custodes came from the hubristic iconoclasm of the 1970s and the all-too-human fear of uttering those difficult words, "Maybe we were wrong." It is the little boy's, "If the game can't be played by my rules, it won't be played at all."
Another word for small is petty, and that seems just about the right word to describe Bishop Martin's actions. Small laws are often aimed at small people: those who don't have the money, power, position, or connections to fight back-the sort of people you would expect a father to protect. And, to be clear, these small laws are directed at a specific group acting in a particular way; a way, moreover, that has been sanctioned by the Church for centuries. Those who complain about the "rigidity" of the pre-Vatican II Church are now putting straightjackets on the posture of those receiving Communion.
These small laws are promulgated by those hanging banners and singing songs proclaiming "All are welcome." They are enforced by those who think that to question anyone's worthiness to receive Communion is a violation of sacred conscience. They are done by those who seem to have little concern about how those distributing Communion are attired. They are proclaimed by those who see "unity" only in terms of their own zeitgeist. As is the case with most small laws, tolerance is interpreted very narrowly.
We now must have another host of small laws on receiving Communion. What about the person who wants to kneel but, because of joint pain, requires a kneeler ? What about that small architectural design that has the sanctuary three or four inches above the rest of the Church and may, to some small-minded men, suggest an altar rail because it may suggest, to some high-minded person, that what he is doing when he goes up there is something sacred and so he should kneel ? What about the person who genuflects before receiving Communion ? What about mantillas ? Quick: another "pastoral letter."
I don't fault the priests for raising the dubia. They had little other recourse. But the feeling is not so much anger as frustration. Is this what we've come to after 60 years of the "New Pentecost" ? Is this the "New Evangelization" ? Traditionis Custodes put us on a liturgical yo-yo, with bishops such as Bishop Martin acting not as pastors but as puppeteers of their own show. It's about as unifying as a game of "Simon Says."
I don't know much about the diocese of Charlotte. I imagine it has most of the great challenges faced by the majority of dioceses: not enough vocations; difficulties in properly forming and catechizing the faithful; the breakdown of the family; a fight against an increasingly secular and anti-Catholic culture. And Bishop Martin takes up the crusade against altar rails, kneelers, and prie-dieux. Small.
This article was originally published on Crisis Magazine.