Well, first things first. I want to express my absolute, complete, and total support to Jason Collins, the 34-year old black basketball player—with, by the way, a degree from Stanford—who came out yesterday. I’m sure that Jason is reading this—the blog having an international readership thanks to some wonderful folk in Tobago—and I wouldn’t want him to feel slighted in any way. Excellent work, Jason!
OK—that was snide. I don’t know how to say this without stepping on toes, so here goes: for me, at least, it’s a little painful to see the rich and famous coming out of the closet after all the rest of us made it possible for them to do so. Elton John I respect; he came out at a time when it wasn’t easy. His career may have suffered—what do I know about pop music? He took it on the chin.
So now we have our first openly gay professional basketball player. And everybody is writing about it and tweeting about it and supporting Jason—including Chelsea Clinton and Joe Kennedy, his former classmates at Stanford.
And Jason says he feels great. And he does, I’m sure. There’s something about being in the closet that is completely stifling. First, you’re always hiding. Second, you’re always acting. Third, you’re always looking over your back, wondering who’s going to expose you. Fourth, you’re always wondering—how would this person react if they knew who I really am?
The list goes on and on, and ends up at the last two questions.
The penultimate: would this person like me?
The ultimate: do I like myself?
So Jason did it, and now—yes—I’m sincere: good for him. And maybe I should come clean—it is to me totally ridiculous that it is only in the year 2013 that we get our first openly gay team-sport male athlete, or whatever he is. We’ve had gay everybody else—senators, rock stars, talking heads—for years now. And now we get our first gay male athlete? Where you guys been?
It’s a measure of how far we’ve come but, yeah, how far we need to go.
Actually, let me tell you where we need to go.
On Saturday, I was watching a great production from the Metropolitan Opera of Giulio Cesare, with the countertenor David Daniels, who was in top form. During intermission, Daniels was speaking with Renée Fleming—they discussed his character, the difficulty of the music, a host of musical questions. At the end, Daniels said, “oh, just one thing, Renée—I gotta say hello to my partner John, who’s dying to meet you.”
Both look at the camera.
“John, this is Renée; Reneée, this is John.”
Renée put on a 7000 candlepower smile and waved at John.
“Hi, John!”
Back to the opera.
Right, now then…
…Worried readers of this blog will want to know: how is the Archbishop getting along? You will remember the little tiff that ensued, when the monsignor put up El Altar de la Patria and than proposed reuniting the prócer Ramón Power y Giralt with his old buddy Arizmendi, the first Puerto Rican bishop. (Or some such thing—I’m too lazy to go look it up….) Those favoring statehood took umbrage—stating that all this was just more politicking from a man who is openly pro-independence.
The Vatican weighed in, nixing both the Altar and the joining of the remains. But the plot thickens—it seems that the archbishop sent a letter on the 20th of February of this year; the letter contains the following jaw-dropping paragraph:
Eminencia, sutilmente se me indicó que yo tenía que renunciar a la Sede Arzobispal de San Juan y que pidiera otro encargo a la Iglesia. Las injusticias y los procesos injustos jamás pueden ser fuentes de derecho para la renuncia de un Obispo. Este servidor quiere hacer constar que jamás renunciaría a la Sede Arzobispal de San Juan cuando no hay razones para ello.
(For full transcript in Spanish, please click here.)
Here’s a somewhat florid translation:
Your Eminency, subtly was it indicated to me that I must resign the See of the Archbishop of San Juan and that I ask another position in the Church. The injustices and processes unjust can never be the founts of reason for the resignation of a bishop. This servant wishes to state that never would he resign the See of the Archbishop of San Juan when there are no reasons for that.
OK—in ecclesiastical terms, those would be fighting words. Clearly, I had to read the six-page letter from which the paragraph above was culled.
The letter starts well enough; the archbishop expresses his horror at the completely false and terrible charges levied against him. Nor does he know whether they are final charges, or merely charges warranting investigation. Oh, and he’s received nothing—despite his request—in writing, nor was he permitted, in the meeting where the charges were lobbed at him, to take notes.
Right—down to the facts. For over a year, González (the archbishop) “has been submitted” to an apostolic visit—that’s a guy sniffing around, trying to find dirt. González has also been told that there may be other “incognito” visits—those are spies. Eager to clean his name, González has sought an audience with Mauro Piacenza, the Prefect of the Congregation of the Clergy. No luck.
González goes elsewhere, to Monsignor Celso Morga Iruzubieta, the secretary of the Congregation named above. “Hey,” says González, “can I finally get around to naming some people in my archbishopric? It’s been over a year now since the apostolic visitor (or whatever he’s called) told me I couldn’t.”
“No problem,” says Iruzubieta, and then González shows him the letter telling him that he couldn’t.
Guess what? Iruzubieta gets into a fluster and leaves the room. Predictably, on return, Iruzubieta tells him—hey, hold off on those appointments and I’ll get back to you.
Aha—so that’s why I’ve been seeing the archbishop hanging around his mailbox these many mornings!
Now then, in the meeting of 15 December 2012, during which those grievous and unfounded canards were shot at the archbishop, he was told to hold this matter in the strictest confidence, and especially not to speak of the matter to any of the four or five Puerto Rican bishops.
This, very sadly, González has found himself morally unable to do.
In fact, he has found himself morally obliged to confide in a number of people; here’s a little list:
1. Félix Lázaro, Bishop of Ponce
2. Álvaro Corrada, Bishop of Mayagüez
3. Cardinal Bernard Law
4. Cardinal William Joseph Levada
5. Cardinal Seán O’Malley
6. Cardinal Óscar Rodríguez Maradiaga
7. Cardinal Timothy Dolan
8. Archbishop Gerhard Müller
González spoke to Müller, in fact, because Müller is prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. And it was necessary to speak with him because there are four wrong, unjust, and deeply hurtful accusations being slung at the archbishop. And they are:
1. Protecting pederast priests
2. Doing an investigation of Reverend Edward Santana without having jurisdiction to do so
3. The “shared residences”
4. The altar de la Patria
We are now on page five of a six-page letter. Just enough time for González to write the paragraph quoted and translated above, to restate his innocence, as well as to express his supreme inner peace that these vicious slanders will not stand up to scrutiny.
Oh, and to express his deepest fraternal love and to send his prayers.
Kiss, goodbye.
Ummm—archbishop, you do know what you’re doing, don’t you? You are courting an invitation to spend some time in Rome; a period of greater contemplation, of deeper communion with God; a period of rest, spiritually and physically. You have said it as well, this ordeal has taken its toll. It’s now time for you eminence to join with your brothers in Rome, where together and fraternally you and they can grow in the correct understanding of the faith, and share in the great and mysterious love of God.
Oh, by the way, I can write the press release….
