Figleaf at Real Adult Sex gets me thinking...
The latest round of bad behaviour from the Catholic Church to hit the news stings particularly these days. I can't quite say whether it's Easter, and traditionally, with me, Spring has been A Thing, or whether the self-directed history lesson that is my documentary habit has caused me to pay more attention. As stories and commentary pass a few notions press an awful lot of weight in my brain. This surprises me, because it hasn't really before.
Watching footage of Oliver O'Grady admit that he'd been abused by priests as a child, I've come to wonder how far back the abuse and the grooming and damning initiation into priesthood could possibly go. I posit; is there some allegory in the finding in the temple that we've been missing all along? My partner raises his eyebrows at me, and says "... Those are some pretty heretical ideas, Sweetpea." and I laugh. When I was 12, I had to look the word "Heresy" up in the dictionary, and the world got a lot bigger.
It crosses my mind that despite my own experience... of the affable gentlemen in collars who would help out with supervision at school, entities, like the teachers, the bus drivers, who tended to the whole flock; the politically aware, whiskey-fond cousin on mission in Sudan since the 80's, the blond-haired dude who played No Rain on his guitar and wanted to be called by his first name... that it might be them. I do not like to see my comforting memories of engaged neighbours sullied. Not them. Not the people I know. Not in my direct experience. But a lot. Out there. Maybe even the Pope himself. And that's when it all unravels for me, and falls apart.
That hurts. Despite the fact that I left the church a very long time ago, that idea is spiritually eviscerating. On some days, I've described myself as a small-c catholic, on others, Pagan will suffice. I like to say Heathen, I think, mostly for impact. I don't know. It doesn't even matter. Because it's not, for me, an issue of what I believe. It's that I understand that The Holy Catholic Church as I understand it, is not only the (ever dwindling) moral authority for many people on earth, it is also the historical and ideological starting point for every subsequent Christian sect, behind history's key events, the inspiration for legal systems the world over, and has existed, grown, adapted parallel to Western Civilization as some monolithic, untouchable, founding force.
And it's all about diddling kids. Always has been. This Thing that speaks for God. God.
...and that I can now be suspicious that the currently embroiled Pope was elevated not despite his history of condoning paedophilia but instead because his history was well-understood within the hierarchy, is probably all that needs to be said about how little moral authority remains with them.
The latest round of bad behaviour from the Catholic Church to hit the news stings particularly these days. I can't quite say whether it's Easter, and traditionally, with me, Spring has been A Thing, or whether the self-directed history lesson that is my documentary habit has caused me to pay more attention. As stories and commentary pass a few notions press an awful lot of weight in my brain. This surprises me, because it hasn't really before.
Watching footage of Oliver O'Grady admit that he'd been abused by priests as a child, I've come to wonder how far back the abuse and the grooming and damning initiation into priesthood could possibly go. I posit; is there some allegory in the finding in the temple that we've been missing all along? My partner raises his eyebrows at me, and says "... Those are some pretty heretical ideas, Sweetpea." and I laugh. When I was 12, I had to look the word "Heresy" up in the dictionary, and the world got a lot bigger.
It crosses my mind that despite my own experience... of the affable gentlemen in collars who would help out with supervision at school, entities, like the teachers, the bus drivers, who tended to the whole flock; the politically aware, whiskey-fond cousin on mission in Sudan since the 80's, the blond-haired dude who played No Rain on his guitar and wanted to be called by his first name... that it might be them. I do not like to see my comforting memories of engaged neighbours sullied. Not them. Not the people I know. Not in my direct experience. But a lot. Out there. Maybe even the Pope himself. And that's when it all unravels for me, and falls apart.
That hurts. Despite the fact that I left the church a very long time ago, that idea is spiritually eviscerating. On some days, I've described myself as a small-c catholic, on others, Pagan will suffice. I like to say Heathen, I think, mostly for impact. I don't know. It doesn't even matter. Because it's not, for me, an issue of what I believe. It's that I understand that The Holy Catholic Church as I understand it, is not only the (ever dwindling) moral authority for many people on earth, it is also the historical and ideological starting point for every subsequent Christian sect, behind history's key events, the inspiration for legal systems the world over, and has existed, grown, adapted parallel to Western Civilization as some monolithic, untouchable, founding force.
And it's all about diddling kids. Always has been. This Thing that speaks for God. God.
