Post Number: 79
|Posted on Wednesday, April 07, 2010 - 05:56 am: ||
I thought this column was wonderful and wrote Maureen Dowd to say so.
The Church’s Judas Moment
By MAUREEN DOWD
I’m a Catholic woman who makes a living being adversarial. We have a pope who has instructed Catholic women not to be adversarial.
It’s a conundrum.
I’ve been wondering, given the vitriolic reaction of the New York archbishop to my column defending nuns and the dismissive reaction of the Vatican to my column denouncing the church’s response to the pedophilia scandal, if they are able to take a woman’s voice seriously. Some, like Bill Donohue of the Catholic League, seem to think women are trying to undermine the church because of abortion and women’s ordination.
I thought they might respond better to a male Dowd.
My brother Kevin is conservative and devout — his hobby is collecting crčches — and has raised three good Catholic sons. When I asked him to share his thoughts on the scandal, I learned, shockingly, that we agreed on some things. He wrote the following:
“In pedophilia, the church has unleashed upon itself a plague that threatens its very future, and yet it remains in a curious state of denial. The church I grew up in was black and white, no grays. That’s why my father, an Irish immigrant, liked it so much. The chaplain of the Police and Fire departments told me once ‘Your father was a fierce Catholic, very fierce.’
My brothers and I were sleepily at his side for the monthly 8 a.m. Holy Name Mass and the guarding of the Eucharist in the middle of the night during the 40-hour ritual at Easter. Once during a record snowstorm in 1958, we were marched single-file to church for Mass only to find out the priests next door couldn’t get out of the rectory.
The priest was always a revered figure, the embodiment of Christ changing water into wine. (Older parishioners took it literally.) The altar boys would drink the dregs.
When I was in the 7th grade, one of the new priests took four of us to the drive-in restaurant and suggested a game of ‘pink belly’ on the way back; we pulled up a boy’s shirt and slapped his belly until it was pink. When the new priest joined in, it seemed like more groping than slapping. But we thought it was inadvertent. And my parents never would have believed a priest did anything inappropriate anyway. A boy in my class told me much later that the same priest climbed into bed with him in 1958 at a rectory sleepover, but my friend threw him to the floor. The priest protested he was sleepwalking. Three days later, the archbishop sent the priest to a rehab place in New Mexico; he ended up as a Notre Dame professor.
Vatican II made me wince. The church declared casual Friday. All the once-rigid rules left to the whim of the flock. The Mass was said in English (rendering useless my carefully learned Latin prayers). Holy days of obligation were optional. There were laypeople on the heretofore sacred ground of the altar — performing the sacraments and worse, handling the Host. The powerful symbolism of the priest turning the Host into the body of Christ cracked like an egg.
In his book, ‘Goodbye! Good Men,’ author Michael Rose writes that the liberalized rules set up a takeover of seminaries by homosexuals.
Vatican II liberalized rules but left the most outdated one: celibacy. That vow was put in place originally because the church did not want heirs making claims on money and land. But it ended up shrinking the priest pool and producing the wrong kind of candidates — drawing men confused about their sexuality who put our children in harm’s way.
The church is dying from a thousand cuts. Its cover-up has cost a fortune and been a betrayal worthy of Judas. The money spent came from social programs, Catholic schools and the poor. This should be a sin that cries to heaven for vengeance. I asked a friend of mine recently what he would do if his child was molested after the church knew. ‘I would probably kill someone,’ he replied.
We must reassess. Married priests and laypeople giving the sacraments are not going to destroy the church. Based on what we have seen the last 10 years, they would be a bargain. It is time to go back to the disciplines that the church was founded on and remind our seminaries and universities what they are. (Georgetown University agreeing to cover religious symbols on stage to get President Obama to speak was not exactly fierce.)
The storm within the church strikes at what every Catholic fears most. We take our religion on faith. How can we maintain that faith when our leaders are unworthy of it?”
Dear Ms. Dowd,
Wonderful column produced by you AND your brother. Thank you! You may not be your brother's keeper, but you are his publisher!
One thing: Your brother writes, "We take our religion on faith. How can we maintain that faith when our leaders are unworthy of it?” Your brother certainly has a point, but I can't help but wonder what "faith"--"the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things NOT SEEN" (Hebrews 11:1, my capitalization)--has to do with unworthy leaders. That fascinating definition seems to bring us entirely outside the world ("hoped for," "not seen"); in fact, it has always seemed to me to be an admirable definition of "fiction"!
Here is a poem I wrote a few years ago:
“It would be bad enough if I were the next-door neighbor. But this is like God doing it. Jesus doing it.”
“First Person: The Confession of Father X”
Father O’Fondle comes to town
Hoping that your pants are down
What’s your sport, me lad, says he
Can you sit upon me knee
(I have sport enow for thee!)
Let me look upon your dangle
Try Confession from THIS angle
What I beat is not a drum
Who put the “cum” in “Vobiscum”?
(Which of you dare call me “scum”?)
Bishop, Bishop, though I’m lacking
I know you will send me packing
To another parish bright
Where I’m sure I’ll do all right
I'll bring “God” to them and theirs
And they’ll remember in their prayers
In the night when dreams are wet
They will see me smiling yet
Holding out God’s helping hand
There’s a sweet and sacred band!
Till Hell turns to ice and freezes
You’ll make Love to me--and Jesus
I’ll apply the priestly arts
To your troubled private parts
Here, my lad, ’s a welcome solace
Let me touch your throbbing phallus
Hear the Sacred Choir thrumming
As I prepare my Second Coming!
Father O’Fondle, troubled man
Needing love, and under ban
In such desire for the Son,
Would I have done as you have done?