Tears on the Pulpit

This is not about the facts -- it's just about my feelings: I've done only a little reading about the scandal involving priests who are alleged to have been pedophiles in the Philadelphia area. Just some print coverage over the weekend (including "the list") and a browsing of the news indexed on the Web. But I'm a Catholic who grew up in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, and I have an evolving point of view.

I feel sorrow and shame for the priests who have attacked and molested children, to be sure. Also anger and pity. I am appalled that children, who are supposed to be worth just as much as -- if not more than -- adults in the Church's stated values system, were allowed to remain at the mercy of those who would do them harm. A culture of respect for life does not just mean helping fetuses set foot on this planet and keeping old folks safe from those who would pull the plug on them for the sake of convenience. And, yes, I ache for the families that were victimized by these apparent crimes. Not only the obvious victims: the targeted children, their immediate families and possibly their progeny. But also the families of those who were too troubled or sick to restrain themselves from attacking the most vulnerable among our population.

But as utterly repulsed as I am by their choices and their behavior, I am -- though my anger -- able to feel pity, compassion and concern for those accused of committing what are without a doubt egregious wrongs. The ramifications of their sins and crimes will never be completely known, and I pray that they'll be able to live healthy lives at some point.

Almost all of those involved as victims or perpetrators are fellow Church members of mine. As a result I bear part of the shame though I have never been molested by priest or religious and, as far as I know, have never known anyone who has been either a molester or victim.

I am ashamed, I am disgusted and I am rocked to my core. This crisis will change the Church -- and I don't just mean the Church will see less money come in in the form of donations, although that certainly will be the case. I, for example, was extremely reluctant to donate when I was a divorced Catholic, as I began to work through my feelings on the permanence of marriage. No small number of Catholics are certainly starting to muster their indignance and vitriol to justify reducing or eliminating their regular contributions to the Roman Catholic Church.

Yet I don't know how I thought my church -- or any religion or region -- would be immune to this kind of aberrant behavior. People are human, and they sometimes act in a manner that seems subhuman. I had hoped for better, and I feel like a fool.

I was up North when the story came to light about the Christian Brothers molesting youths. Now if I hear that someone I know went to any sort of Christian Brothers school, I must admit my gut instinct is to try to approach them with a sort of tender what-did-they-do-to-you-and-how-can-I-help attitude. That isn't the way it should be.

I used to have priest friends, had the pleasure of occasionally stopping up to the rectory for a sweet, even traveling with a member of the clergy or sharing a meal. Should people automatically think that I may have been a victim? I was not, and I don't like having to look at my Church that way.

I am trying to maintain faith in Church leaders and role models, from priests, religious and deacons to those who have achieved a position of greater authority in the hierarchy of the Church. It made me very sad to hear that at least two priests in my home parish in Pennsylvania cried as they discussed recent events during Sunday Mass this past week: Yet tears are not an inappropriate response from anyone who loves the Church and its people and anyone who loves God and seeks what is right in this world. As a Catholic -- and as an admittedly flawed human -- I want to be part of a productive dialogue and process that sees the church achieve more holiness and compassion for all, not less. And I, though I am lazy sometimes, want to be holier and to do the right thing. None of that is easy. In fact, I hesitate to post my thoughts here, because I don't want them taken out of context, and I don't want to needlessly inflame a very emotional issue.

Many years ago, I made a decision as a teenager to stay within my Church even as I questioned some of its theology. Those adolescent questions seem so insignificant as to be trivial now. I reaffirmed my decision to be a Catholic when I was a young adult. I do not expect to be outside my chosen faith, but I no longer expect my Church to turn like the giant ship of state I thought it was when I was much younger. I expect the impossible because this religion does, at this point in history, need to turn on a dime.