By Jeremy Lott on 4.29.02 @ 12:02AM
The Pope ''gets it.'' Will the American hierarchy?
The most perceptive comment on the recent Vatican confab to
address the American priest sex scandal was an editorial cartoon by
Dana Summers in the Orlando Sentinel. The first frame
features an aged John Paul II opposite a gathering of cardinals who
whisper among themselves that the pontiff "looks so frail." In the
next frame, the same bishops are blown over like bowling pins by
the megaphonic voice of a slightly more animated Pope reminding
them that "IT'S A CRIME!"
Indeed, John Paul II's brief
harangue left little wiggle room for what he thought about the
cause of the extraordinary meeting.
"The abuse which has caused this crisis is by every standard
wrong and rightly considered a crime by society; it is also an
appalling sin in the eyes of God. To the victims and their
families, wherever they may be, I express my profound sense of
solidarity and concern," he said to the cardinals.
Further, the Pope advised that the American hierarchy should be
concerned "above all else, with the spiritual good of
souls. People need to know that there is no place in the
priesthood and religious life for those who would harm the young"
(emphases mine).
It was a message that resonated. USA Today, America's
real newspaper of record, ran an above-the-fold cover story
Wednesday with the headline "Abuse by Priests is 'a crime,' pope
says," and similar headlines reverberated throughout the American
press. The implication was that the Vatican is finally dropping the
other shoe.
In the days that followed, however, the cardinals picked that
shoe up and tried to shove it into their mouths. First, they
distanced themselves from early talk of a "one strike" policy,
preferring instead to reserve "special processes" (read "immediate
expulsion from the priesthood") for the "notorious" abusers. Then
they called for a wacky Day of Reparation, in which the whole of
the American church would demonstrate remorse for the wrongs that
arguably happened with the cardinals' and bishops' tacit
approval.
This last bit was too much for rising conservative Catholic
journalist Kathy
Shaidle, who denounced the Day of Reparation as "obviously a
cynical PR ploy." She called collective guilt "a trendy modern
notion" that can't be squared with the words of Christ on the
subject of the treatment of children: "It would be better if a
millstone were tied around [the abuser's] neck and he were thrown
into the sea" (from the gospel of Luke, chapter 17).
"Implicitly," said Shaidle, "someone has to stay dry. And do the
tying. I'm delighted to volunteer..."
Shaidle's words -- and she is far from an isolated voice on this
issue -- signal a new militancy on the part of the Catholic
faithful. Their deferential habits, the argument runs, may have
avoided some scandal in the past, but it also allowed
administrators such as Boston's Cardinal Law to visit untold
suffering upon many innocent victims.
Though his reaction to the scandal has been slow in coming, and
though he didn't go far enough for many Catholics -- removing
Cardinal Law, for instance -- John Paul II has embraced the
criticisms of the American laity. It needs to be understood that
administration has never been the pontiff's strong suit. Rather,
his strength lies in charismatic leadership and moral suasion. We
saw this when, upon his election to the papacy, he challenged the
Soviet Union, and outlasted it. We saw this also in his patient but
forceful breaking of liberation theology in Latin America. Though
there is often a lag between words and actions, the Pope has proved
that he can move the Church and the world.
I mention this dynamic because the Pope has articulated a vision
for the priesthood that will bump up against what the American
hierarchy is comfortable with. He wants a priesthood conservative
(even judgmental) in social mores, celibate and bent on advancing
the faith at full throttle. One of the least remarked-upon lines of
his recent address hoped for a "purification" of the Church in
reaction to the crisis: "a purification that is urgently needed if
the church is to preach more effectively the Gospel of Jesus Christ
in all its liberating force."
This vision, and this spirit, are likely to survive John Paul II
in the selection of the next bishop of Rome, as the faithful in the
regions that are experiencing the fastest church growth -- South
America, Africa, Asia -- are most likely to share this vision. My
favorite bon mot from Philip Jenkins newest book, The Next
Christendom, explains why "the leaders of the Roman Catholic
Church [the Vatican] are so very conservative: they can count."
Compared to some other Western clusters of bishops, the American
conference isn't completely out to lunch. Most American priests are
decent enough chaps, as far as that goes. They've pulled back from
some of the peacemongering excesses of the 1980s and, like the
Pope, they've made their peace with the market. They're even, often
too quietly, pro-life. But the Pope's double-barreled Catholicism
often strikes them as a bit much. Witness the less than flattering
portraits that are often offered of the Pope's right hand, Cardinal
Ratzinger, to the press. Their collective vision of American
priests -- at least the American-born priests -- would usher in a
kinder gentler Catholicism.
The contortions that allow these two visions to co-exist cannot
be sustained. Eventually, something will have to budge, and I'm
betting it won't be the chair of St. Peter.
topics:
Catholicism, Law, Africa