See? The Catholic Church really isn't just a bunch of geriatric nutcases. Some of us still understand that evolution isn't just a silly idea concocted to indoctrinate us all into the Dark Arts. Please, click the link and read the article -- it will make me feel slightly happier about my religion's reputation.
If they'd just let Jesuits take over the Vatican, I'm pretty sure the world would be a better place.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Friday, November 18, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
To be or not to be...
The latest travesty from the Vatican came out yesterday in the form of a proposal to ban gays from the priesthood.
The Vatican argues this will solve the sex-abuse problems. Anyone with half a brain can beg to differ: most abuse took place during or before the 1980s, when gay men were shunned by the church, forced into the closet or quietly driven out of the clergy. Since then, a more tolerant policy resulted in a rise in "out" priests -- and less abuse.
Never mind that straight and gay men abuse adolescent boys. Never mind that the best priests I've ever known are gay -- the ones who can relate to the isolation and rejection I felt as a woman in the church, since they, too, reside at the margins of the cathedral.
I'm not sure anymore. Between this thinly veiled bigotry and the ongoing, increasing push to keep women in subservient roles, I don't feel comfortable calling myself Catholic. I've stopped going to Church, but I don't know what that means. Am I a sinner looking for an easy way out by finding a church that agrees with my values? Or am I in the right: an angry, frustrated, overlooked part of an archaic faith that fails to meet the needs of its flock?
I wish I knew.
The Vatican argues this will solve the sex-abuse problems. Anyone with half a brain can beg to differ: most abuse took place during or before the 1980s, when gay men were shunned by the church, forced into the closet or quietly driven out of the clergy. Since then, a more tolerant policy resulted in a rise in "out" priests -- and less abuse.
Never mind that straight and gay men abuse adolescent boys. Never mind that the best priests I've ever known are gay -- the ones who can relate to the isolation and rejection I felt as a woman in the church, since they, too, reside at the margins of the cathedral.
I'm not sure anymore. Between this thinly veiled bigotry and the ongoing, increasing push to keep women in subservient roles, I don't feel comfortable calling myself Catholic. I've stopped going to Church, but I don't know what that means. Am I a sinner looking for an easy way out by finding a church that agrees with my values? Or am I in the right: an angry, frustrated, overlooked part of an archaic faith that fails to meet the needs of its flock?
I wish I knew.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Well, my mouth's agape...
...At Agape Press, apparent bastion of offensive Christian vitriol. It's stuff like this that makes me embarrassed to admit I'm Christian (although I'm less and less so by the day, at least according to their standards).
Among their insightful commentary? This gem from Rev. Bill Shanks, who thinks Hurricane Katrina was a good thing. Y'see, the article explains, he'd long predicted a disaster like Katrina for this city of sin which dares to host Mardi Gras parties and an annual weeklong gay pride celebration. So now, he says:
“New Orleans now is abortion free. New Orleans now is Mardi Gras free. New Orleans now is free of Southern Decadence and the sodomites, the witchcraft workers, false religion -- it's free of all of those things now," Shanks says. "God simply, I believe, in His mercy purged all of that stuff out of there -- and now we're going to start over again."
Ah yeah. That's the stuff to which we Christians should aspire. How could anyone turn their back on the faith after hearing the reverend's wisdom?
Naturally, the site also has a lot to say about the Supreme Court (damn it, did you hear the news about Rehnquist??) and birth control. My favorite is a column by Jane Jimenez, in which she flagellates supporters of the morning-after pill and accuses them of being a bunch of immoral, lazy nymphos who can't keep it in their pants. Apparently, she says, the best way to avoid using Plan B is to stick to Plan A -- abstinence before marriage.
So, that's why my husband and I frantically went to the drugstore a few weeks ago when I realized I missed a pill during an incredibly chaotic month. Because condoms never break, no one misses a pill, and committed couples never need backup methods. Although I'm sure Jimenez would tell me I shouldn't be married in the first place if I don't intend to bear and raise faithful Christian children.
I'm sorry, but screw you, Agape Press! You know JACK about God's love -- your name is an insult. Please change it to "Hating in the Name of God" and get the hell out of our lives. I'd like to see Shanks tell some survivors to their faces that they deserved what they got, especially since the deep South is a stronghold of Christianity. I could call you more names than exist in the Bible, but you know what? I'm not like you people. None of my hedonistic, atheist, sodomizing, sexually active friends could hold a candle to your seething hatred, and I am so, so glad to be on their side. To quote the great Fiona Apple, go crawl back to the rock from under whence you came.
Among their insightful commentary? This gem from Rev. Bill Shanks, who thinks Hurricane Katrina was a good thing. Y'see, the article explains, he'd long predicted a disaster like Katrina for this city of sin which dares to host Mardi Gras parties and an annual weeklong gay pride celebration. So now, he says:
“New Orleans now is abortion free. New Orleans now is Mardi Gras free. New Orleans now is free of Southern Decadence and the sodomites, the witchcraft workers, false religion -- it's free of all of those things now," Shanks says. "God simply, I believe, in His mercy purged all of that stuff out of there -- and now we're going to start over again."
Ah yeah. That's the stuff to which we Christians should aspire. How could anyone turn their back on the faith after hearing the reverend's wisdom?
Naturally, the site also has a lot to say about the Supreme Court (damn it, did you hear the news about Rehnquist??) and birth control. My favorite is a column by Jane Jimenez, in which she flagellates supporters of the morning-after pill and accuses them of being a bunch of immoral, lazy nymphos who can't keep it in their pants. Apparently, she says, the best way to avoid using Plan B is to stick to Plan A -- abstinence before marriage.
So, that's why my husband and I frantically went to the drugstore a few weeks ago when I realized I missed a pill during an incredibly chaotic month. Because condoms never break, no one misses a pill, and committed couples never need backup methods. Although I'm sure Jimenez would tell me I shouldn't be married in the first place if I don't intend to bear and raise faithful Christian children.
I'm sorry, but screw you, Agape Press! You know JACK about God's love -- your name is an insult. Please change it to "Hating in the Name of God" and get the hell out of our lives. I'd like to see Shanks tell some survivors to their faces that they deserved what they got, especially since the deep South is a stronghold of Christianity. I could call you more names than exist in the Bible, but you know what? I'm not like you people. None of my hedonistic, atheist, sodomizing, sexually active friends could hold a candle to your seething hatred, and I am so, so glad to be on their side. To quote the great Fiona Apple, go crawl back to the rock from under whence you came.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Faithless
What a horrendous disappointment Cardinal Ratzinger has turned out to be. No moderate or liberal Catholic expected him to be great for the progressive movement within the Church, but now he's supporting another cardinal who's suggested that belief in evolution conflicts with the Catholic faith.
In the past, popes and church leaders have expressed support for evolution. When I went to Catholic school, my science classes never invoked God as a way to explain the creation of the earth or the appearance of modern-day species. I'd hate to think that's going to change now, but this NYT article certainly suggests that the Church is shifting right.
What the hell is happening in this country? Why do science and religion have to be in conflict with each other when they shouldn't even be compared to each other? One is a system of inquiry and fact-finding, while the other is a system of belief. Religious views about human origins belong in a philosophy class, and I say this as someone who is a religious person. We have hard, detailed evidence of evolution, and it's ludicrous to suggest that intelligent design or creationism merit the same attention in a biology class. I don't see why so many Christians view evolution as a threat to their faith. When I grew up, evolution and Catholicism could co-exist peacefully, and neither had to stamp the other out of existence. If your faith is so fragile that everything which contradicts it must be eradicated or debunked, well, what does that say about its viability?
In the past, popes and church leaders have expressed support for evolution. When I went to Catholic school, my science classes never invoked God as a way to explain the creation of the earth or the appearance of modern-day species. I'd hate to think that's going to change now, but this NYT article certainly suggests that the Church is shifting right.
What the hell is happening in this country? Why do science and religion have to be in conflict with each other when they shouldn't even be compared to each other? One is a system of inquiry and fact-finding, while the other is a system of belief. Religious views about human origins belong in a philosophy class, and I say this as someone who is a religious person. We have hard, detailed evidence of evolution, and it's ludicrous to suggest that intelligent design or creationism merit the same attention in a biology class. I don't see why so many Christians view evolution as a threat to their faith. When I grew up, evolution and Catholicism could co-exist peacefully, and neither had to stamp the other out of existence. If your faith is so fragile that everything which contradicts it must be eradicated or debunked, well, what does that say about its viability?
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
More thoughts on the Pope
Now that I’ve had more time to think about it, I’m still just devastated by the news of the Pope. I heard a great thought a little while ago: shouldn’t it take more thought to elect the next Catholic leader than can be provided in the space of two days?
NPR just mentioned that Ratzinger is the one who upbraided Archbishop Hunthausen 20 years ago for daring to welcome gays and lesbians into our church. Great.
If there’s one thing the Church has done well in recent years, it lies in its efforts to reach out to other faiths, as John Paul II did with Muslims, Jews and other Christians. Now, according to ABC news, we get the guy who “blocked German Catholics from sharing communion with their Lutheran brethren at a joint gathering in 2003.”
He has been a serious roadblock in the wake of the sex abuse allegations: Ratzinger doesn’t believe the problem is endemic within the church, nor does he seem to feel that our rigid rules have anything to do with what happened. Notes the Boston Herald: “He tends to regard the abuse crisis as a result of the decadence of American society seeping into the seminaries and into the clergy, with the understanding that the American press exaggerates it because it's interested in sensationalism and titillation,'' said Stephen Pope, chairman of the theology department at Jesuit-run Boston College.
The Seattle Times found nervous Catholics at Seattle University, the college where I spent two years. Today’s article quotes Father Mike, an incredible Jesuit who I respect and love:
For Father Michael Bayard, a priest who performs ministry on the campus of the Jesuit university, the selection of Ratzinger "in some ways feels like a step backwards" for the church, especially given Ratzinger's earlier pronouncements against women in the church and homosexuality. But a friend provided comforting words, Bayard said, reminding him "we are a people of hope."
"We're people of faith and we have to trust this is the right choice," he said, "so let's give him the benefit of the doubt."
As a woman, I don’t think I can do that. I feel very alone right now, like my Catholic sisters and I have been left out in the streets while our brothers are invited inside the Church to celebrate. What happens now? Will Ratzinger continue to tell Africans that condoms can’t prevent the transmission of AIDs? Will he crack down on Jesuits like my friends at Seattle U, who are the only reasons I still cling to the faith today?
Supposedly, people are celebrating tonight. So why do I feel like I’m in a permanent state of mourning?
NPR just mentioned that Ratzinger is the one who upbraided Archbishop Hunthausen 20 years ago for daring to welcome gays and lesbians into our church. Great.
If there’s one thing the Church has done well in recent years, it lies in its efforts to reach out to other faiths, as John Paul II did with Muslims, Jews and other Christians. Now, according to ABC news, we get the guy who “blocked German Catholics from sharing communion with their Lutheran brethren at a joint gathering in 2003.”
He has been a serious roadblock in the wake of the sex abuse allegations: Ratzinger doesn’t believe the problem is endemic within the church, nor does he seem to feel that our rigid rules have anything to do with what happened. Notes the Boston Herald: “He tends to regard the abuse crisis as a result of the decadence of American society seeping into the seminaries and into the clergy, with the understanding that the American press exaggerates it because it's interested in sensationalism and titillation,'' said Stephen Pope, chairman of the theology department at Jesuit-run Boston College.
The Seattle Times found nervous Catholics at Seattle University, the college where I spent two years. Today’s article quotes Father Mike, an incredible Jesuit who I respect and love:
For Father Michael Bayard, a priest who performs ministry on the campus of the Jesuit university, the selection of Ratzinger "in some ways feels like a step backwards" for the church, especially given Ratzinger's earlier pronouncements against women in the church and homosexuality. But a friend provided comforting words, Bayard said, reminding him "we are a people of hope."
"We're people of faith and we have to trust this is the right choice," he said, "so let's give him the benefit of the doubt."
As a woman, I don’t think I can do that. I feel very alone right now, like my Catholic sisters and I have been left out in the streets while our brothers are invited inside the Church to celebrate. What happens now? Will Ratzinger continue to tell Africans that condoms can’t prevent the transmission of AIDs? Will he crack down on Jesuits like my friends at Seattle U, who are the only reasons I still cling to the faith today?
Supposedly, people are celebrating tonight. So why do I feel like I’m in a permanent state of mourning?
Not MY father
I can’t contain my disappointment at the selection of my Church’s new pope. It’s a slap in the face to everyone who argues for logical, just reform within our institution. This insults every person who believes that it’s time for Catholicism to reconsider dated traditions, like the gender-based stratification of the Church. Ratzinger is such a hard-line theologian; I fear that my Jesuit mentors back at Seattle U will be silenced by his policies as pope. He has never supported liberation theology, nor does he understand that the Church’s policy on AIDS is killing thousands of faithful Africans. This is such a shame.
I’m not sure what I’ll do now. I’ve been dancing around the Church for several years, coming in for an occasional embrace but spinning away in the end. It might be time for me to consider another faith – and yet, I don’t want to leave! Why must the stubbornness of a few old men have such an impact on everyone else?
I’m not sure what I’ll do now. I’ve been dancing around the Church for several years, coming in for an occasional embrace but spinning away in the end. It might be time for me to consider another faith – and yet, I don’t want to leave! Why must the stubbornness of a few old men have such an impact on everyone else?
Monday, April 04, 2005
Back online
Sorry about the lapse in posts - I was away in Wenatchee this weekend, and my computer at work also seems to have blocked Blogger.com. Stupid security rules.
Well, the Pope is finally at rest. I am relieved for him, but also saddened to bid farewell to our Church's charismatic leader. We agreed on very few doctrinal issues, yet I still love and respect him for his unwavering beliefs and for his steadfast pursuit of global peace. How many other leaders maintained strong diplomatic relationships with both President Bush and Fidel Castro? I heard today that Castro declared a week of mourning for the Pope - no small feat in a nation where citizens refused to disclose their religious affiliations when I talked with them.
I also had never seen pictures of him in his youth or from the earliest days of his papacy. He possessed such vitality, such tranquility; always, in every photo and film clip, he moves forward with the wisp of a serene smile on his face. He was contentment personified. I can't imagine facing the world with so much happiness -- I can't even get through a signel day without reverting to sarcasm and cynicism, and I'm just an entry-level administrator at a social services program. He will be missed greatly, and I just hope the next Pope continues the Church's dogged push for peace while acknowledging that it may be time for a change in the priesthood.
On the wedding front, a recent spate of rain in the Cascades has enabled the ceremony site to erupt in a riot of spring greens. New growth is pushing up through the damp, dark earth, and the place has an air of pregnant anticipation about it. At any moment, petals will start bursting out from their buds and our backdrop of wildflowers will come into bloom.
Now, if only the civil front were as invigorating as the physical world. It's real fun trying to convince people that our wedding is precisely that: ours. Not yours, not the property of the crazy distant relative, but mine and my man's. I'm suddenly understanding why people elope. :)
Well, the Pope is finally at rest. I am relieved for him, but also saddened to bid farewell to our Church's charismatic leader. We agreed on very few doctrinal issues, yet I still love and respect him for his unwavering beliefs and for his steadfast pursuit of global peace. How many other leaders maintained strong diplomatic relationships with both President Bush and Fidel Castro? I heard today that Castro declared a week of mourning for the Pope - no small feat in a nation where citizens refused to disclose their religious affiliations when I talked with them.
I also had never seen pictures of him in his youth or from the earliest days of his papacy. He possessed such vitality, such tranquility; always, in every photo and film clip, he moves forward with the wisp of a serene smile on his face. He was contentment personified. I can't imagine facing the world with so much happiness -- I can't even get through a signel day without reverting to sarcasm and cynicism, and I'm just an entry-level administrator at a social services program. He will be missed greatly, and I just hope the next Pope continues the Church's dogged push for peace while acknowledging that it may be time for a change in the priesthood.
On the wedding front, a recent spate of rain in the Cascades has enabled the ceremony site to erupt in a riot of spring greens. New growth is pushing up through the damp, dark earth, and the place has an air of pregnant anticipation about it. At any moment, petals will start bursting out from their buds and our backdrop of wildflowers will come into bloom.
Now, if only the civil front were as invigorating as the physical world. It's real fun trying to convince people that our wedding is precisely that: ours. Not yours, not the property of the crazy distant relative, but mine and my man's. I'm suddenly understanding why people elope. :)
Friday, March 25, 2005
Good Friday
I'm not the best Catholic - I still haven't decided if I really am Catholic, even though I've thought about it on-and-off since I started college. So, here we are at the biggest weekend of the year for Catholics and other Christians. I probably won't go to Easter Mass, because it feels too much like the classic behavior of a C&E Catholic (Christmas and Easter only), but I do plan to be at Good Friday services this evening at St. Therese, a Central District church where my wedding's officiant attends.
Personally, I've always been drawn to Christmas instead of Easter - I love the symbolism of the light in darkness, the coming in from the cold. Christmas brings out that boundless optimism inside me and banishes the cynic for a few weeks. Whenever we miss a midnight mass, I'm crushed.
This year, it's been rough for me to be interested in Easter. The world doesn't exactly feel like a good place to be: every day, we hear word of some new, more-screwed-up-than-the-last tragedy. In our country, I can't even look at someone with different political views without fearing that he or I will tear the other to pieces. The letters in the paper have deteriorated to mindless rants and insipid name calling; our politicians sound like a flock of vultures fighting over strips of meat left on a carcass. Racism and sexism still run rampant, and you might as well call yourself a communist if you describe yourself as an environmentalist. I try to make my mind think about religion, but that very word is tainted in our culture, a symbol of our intolerance, fear and contempt for anyone who's different.
Maybe that's why Good Friday is ringing true to me this year, even if Easter still feels a little distant. I wasn't sure what to do with myself this afternoon - in Catholic school, we were always let out early on Fridays after we did our rounds at the stations of the cross. We'd spend the hours between noon and three kicking our legs in our rooms or reading quietly. As an adult, I've had to work in the past; this year, however, I work for an agency that lets its employees have the day off.
So, after a long bike ride conducted in a futile attempt to be contemplative (which instead resulted in being worn out and dehydrated), I curled up on the couch with a bible I haven't opened in a year. Reading through the Passion sequences in the gospels, I had one of those little personal epiphanies that keep semi-agnostics like me coming back to our faiths.
The main message of Good Friday, according to tradition, is that Jesus gave his life for our salvation. But it was the other cast of characters who stuck out to me this time, the apostles, the judges, the crowd. I started thinking about their motivations for betrayal or for silent acquiescence and imagined the fear that crept over them as they faced this calm, unyielding being who challenged their way of life. I thought about being in the midst of large crowds at protests and remembered how the crowd's energy could sweep you up in a spiraling funnel before you thought twice about what you were doing. I considered how terrified many of our politicians seem to feel when they are challenged to do the right thing all alone.
And I saw that side of the story in a new light. Any one of us could be the betrayer or the one who slips away instead of speaking out against suffering. Not just "could be" - we are that every time we decide not to confront someone abusing power, or when we change the channel to avoid watching hungry children starve in silence. On a small scale, we betray Jesus' message time and again, no matter how often we vow that we're different. It's easy to sit here in the 21st century and condemn the faceless figures who called for the crucificion, but if we part the shadows of history, those faces belong to us. It's a humbling message, not meant to shame us, but to keep us alert to our own frailty. As Catholics, when we turn away from the poor, the oppressed, or the forgotten in their hour of need, we're also turning away from our beliefs. I'm not a great Catholic, and I don't know whether I really deserve to call myself a Catholic at all - but I'm grateful for finding a message in my faith today. It makes me willing to confront the world again by standing up for the voiceless...even though I know there will be times when I just find it too hard or too frightening to act.
Personally, I've always been drawn to Christmas instead of Easter - I love the symbolism of the light in darkness, the coming in from the cold. Christmas brings out that boundless optimism inside me and banishes the cynic for a few weeks. Whenever we miss a midnight mass, I'm crushed.
This year, it's been rough for me to be interested in Easter. The world doesn't exactly feel like a good place to be: every day, we hear word of some new, more-screwed-up-than-the-last tragedy. In our country, I can't even look at someone with different political views without fearing that he or I will tear the other to pieces. The letters in the paper have deteriorated to mindless rants and insipid name calling; our politicians sound like a flock of vultures fighting over strips of meat left on a carcass. Racism and sexism still run rampant, and you might as well call yourself a communist if you describe yourself as an environmentalist. I try to make my mind think about religion, but that very word is tainted in our culture, a symbol of our intolerance, fear and contempt for anyone who's different.
Maybe that's why Good Friday is ringing true to me this year, even if Easter still feels a little distant. I wasn't sure what to do with myself this afternoon - in Catholic school, we were always let out early on Fridays after we did our rounds at the stations of the cross. We'd spend the hours between noon and three kicking our legs in our rooms or reading quietly. As an adult, I've had to work in the past; this year, however, I work for an agency that lets its employees have the day off.
So, after a long bike ride conducted in a futile attempt to be contemplative (which instead resulted in being worn out and dehydrated), I curled up on the couch with a bible I haven't opened in a year. Reading through the Passion sequences in the gospels, I had one of those little personal epiphanies that keep semi-agnostics like me coming back to our faiths.
The main message of Good Friday, according to tradition, is that Jesus gave his life for our salvation. But it was the other cast of characters who stuck out to me this time, the apostles, the judges, the crowd. I started thinking about their motivations for betrayal or for silent acquiescence and imagined the fear that crept over them as they faced this calm, unyielding being who challenged their way of life. I thought about being in the midst of large crowds at protests and remembered how the crowd's energy could sweep you up in a spiraling funnel before you thought twice about what you were doing. I considered how terrified many of our politicians seem to feel when they are challenged to do the right thing all alone.
And I saw that side of the story in a new light. Any one of us could be the betrayer or the one who slips away instead of speaking out against suffering. Not just "could be" - we are that every time we decide not to confront someone abusing power, or when we change the channel to avoid watching hungry children starve in silence. On a small scale, we betray Jesus' message time and again, no matter how often we vow that we're different. It's easy to sit here in the 21st century and condemn the faceless figures who called for the crucificion, but if we part the shadows of history, those faces belong to us. It's a humbling message, not meant to shame us, but to keep us alert to our own frailty. As Catholics, when we turn away from the poor, the oppressed, or the forgotten in their hour of need, we're also turning away from our beliefs. I'm not a great Catholic, and I don't know whether I really deserve to call myself a Catholic at all - but I'm grateful for finding a message in my faith today. It makes me willing to confront the world again by standing up for the voiceless...even though I know there will be times when I just find it too hard or too frightening to act.
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