Fool me once
Not that it matters—nothing matters anymore, it seems—but we haven’t
been to church in weeks, a protest of inaction. This sickening, ongoing,
unrepentant epidemic of abuse is a major reason, obviously. But it’s also just a reason among many that are all intertwined. The lack of female
representation, voices, and leadership—and the laughable explanations as to why
(“the church itself is Christ’s bride” is, ummm … not adequate, sorry)—especially
in the harsh light of systemic sexual abuse by, exclusively, males, is another. So is
the non-acceptance of homosexuality—though efforts
have been made to change the message, we also recently sat through a
homily proselytizing about “courage in the face of rampant homosexuality”—and
the dark contradiction of this stance exhibited in thousands of reports proving
that so, so many priests prefer male (and
non-consenting and underage) sexual partners. (The pope’s assertion of “Who am
I to judge?” though a welcome change in discourse, does little to reconcile the
church’s general and persistent stance on this issue.) So is the politicizing
of abortion which contrasts with the abject failure to take any substantive
political action in the face of all that is definitively NOT pro-life and
espoused by this country’s morally bankrupt administration—an administration,
by the way, that our church tried to convince
us to support based on this very issue. So is the assembly
line of bland, uninspired, going-through-the-motions Masses and sermons that
fail to embolden our faith or reference any of these concerns or anything even remotely
relevant to our everyday lives and these times. (Prior to our Mass embargo, the
leading prayer of petition at our parish for several weeks running was—not
immigrant families being separated at the border, or the victims of school
violence, or the victims of any number of national and worldwide atrocities
which, again, should have been the gospel-connected foundation of homilies and not merely prayers anyway—lonely
priests. LONELY PRIESTS. If ever a prayer
could be so out of touch as to warrant a sabbatical from church altogether,
this was it. For the record, another ongoing prayer of petition was that youth
sports would stop being played on Sundays so more families could attend Mass,
because REC LEAGUE BASKETBALL IS WHAT’S DRIVING FAMILIES AWAY, YEAH THAT’S IT.)
So is the litany of contemporary and well-researched theater (CNN’s “Pope,”
Netflix’s “The Keepers,” Spotlight,
et al) that outlines the history of corruption and abuse and refutes any notion
that what’s happening now is new or even strange and which, in turn, serves to
explain why the church has been so indifferent and unresponsive—this is not a
bug, but a feature of Catholicism. So is the mere idea that our monthly donations to
the parish are being used as hush money, and the whispers that our parish is
not exactly a beacon of fiscal stewardship. (There’s been a second collection
for the past several months for the “air conditioning fund,” which, yeah, OK.)
So is the notion that church should foster a sense of community that serves to feed
our faith and lives, when in actuality the great schism of this country is
paralleled within the church, except that split is much more slanted toward the
side we vehemently oppose, and thus we find ourselves at great odds with every
bumper sticker and slack-jawed yokel we see in the parking lot.
But surely the most important offense and the catalyst
behind our decision to forgo Mass is the rampant abuse. The mind-boggling
volume of priests involved—I didn’t know there were 301 priests in
Pennsylvania, much less 301 abusive
priests—discredits any argument that “the church” is too broad a generalization
when passing judgment or making indictments. And those are just the abusers;
the enablers and cover-uppers are too numerous to capture. So I’ve heard quite
enough, thank you, about the church being full of sinners and that we are all
human and any other weak platitude used to rationalize the stark distinction
between the church’s teaching and its actions. This is so far beyond being
merely considered a sin; to, say, rape a young boy and then have the audacity
to turn around and hear confession or dispense COMMUNION transcends any
appropriate response. And to, for decades and maybe centuries, not confront this issue but cover it up and side with
the predators and demean the victims has stripped the church of any and all
authority to teach about Jesus Christ.
Some of the great spiritual writers have posited that the sin
against the Holy Spirit mentioned in the gospels—the unforgivable sin—is the
one which we don’t acknowledge as a sin and thus don’t seek forgiveness for,
making it impossible to receive God’s grace. The Catholic Church has neither
fully acknowledged the horrific gravity of all of this nor sought any real
forgiveness whatsoever, not from its victims or its congregation. And by real forgiveness I mean that for which repentance is inherent, and that which promises penance and offers intentions to change; passive, one-paragraph "We're sorry" statements that do not reflect the anger of those affected or urgency of the moment are worse than saying nothing at all, especially considering the fact that WE WENT THROUGH THIS 16 YEARS AGO and obviously nothing changed, obviously you're not sorry. It stands to
reason that, were it not exposed, the church would still be covering up abuse
to this day. To that I say, thank God for reporters (which happens to be a
statement that might offend the church on several fronts, considering local Catholic
radio here has at least on one occasion echoed the presidential sentiment that
the mainstream media is the devil). So, how does one reconcile with a church
that is not seeking forgiveness, and may not even be ceasing its widespread
abuse despite the, shall we say … spotlight?
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