Our Chatty Pope

So the question of the moment is: does this guy know what he’s doing?

The word is that Pope Francis is a dab hand at managing the press, but is he? Or are we simply seeing what we saw with John Paul II—which was the collective decision of the media to adore what was a staunchly conservative, repressive theologian who never admitted that there was a sexual abuse scandal in the church. So he got a free pass, as he has even in death, since he was allowed to pass the miracle test with a 50% score. Under church rules, two miracles are needed to establish sainthood. But either Pope Francis or Benedict waived this rule, and allowed John Paul II to be declared a saint based on only one miracle.

So from the beginning, the press has liked this pope. Confession—I generally regard likable popes as more dangerous than disagreeable popes, so Benedict was my man: a completely prissy, probably-way-closeted pope who drove people out of the church faster than sounding a fire alarm. Perfect!

Second confession: though I think it‘s completely nutty, I appreciate theological conservatism on logical grounds. Consider the policy, as my friend Harry once told me, about getting a sperm sample, when needed for infertility counseling. Normally, guys go into a room, in which usually there are some well-thumbed and hopefully not too sticky men’s magazines. But how can a good Catholic give a sperm sample, since absolutely every sexual act must be undergone—considered using the word “endured”—for the sake of procreation?

Right—there’s a procedure: the man goes to bed with his wife, but using a condom, into which a pin has been pricked. There is thus the theoretical chance of procreation, and you get the sample. See?

I love this sort of lunacy—who wouldn’t? But I find it seriously screwy when a pope drifts back to talk to reporters, on the way home from Rio, and sends people’s eyebrows an inch north and their jaws several inches south. Because the five words that everybody associates with this pope is, “who am I to judge?”

Answer—you’re the pope.

It occurred to me, just now—I know what the problem is. Having worked in Human Resources for Wal-Mart for seven years, the answer came to me with my first sip of double espresso. Here goes:

The pope doesn’t have a job description!  

That’s gotta be the problem, because if he did, there would probably be some sort of nonsense in it, on the lines of:

Consistently and rigorously articulate, uphold and champion key components of the Catholic faith, as defined by scripture, tradition, and the entire canon of the faith.

In short, the pope is supposed to get up in the morning and sit down and make moral judgments. That’s why people are dropping the bills in the collection plates.

OK—so the most recent controversy? The pope apparently made a 10-minute call to an Argentinian, Jaquelina Lisbona, who is legally married to a divorced man, and who has been told that she cannot take communion. Why not? Because she is living in sin with her husband of 20 years, since he has divorced, and his first marriage has not been annulled. So the pope grabbed the phone, called her up, and told her, in essence, to shop around for a more sympathetic priest. And that it would be fine to take communion.

One of the most bizarre things about the Catholic Church is how little its faithful know about it. Nor do I, but this much I know—and to make sure, I googled “state of grace communion.” Try it, and you’ll get your answer.

What’s weird is that this is Catholicism 101—and the pope is saying it doesn’t matter?

Predictably, the millions of divorced Catholics went wild—the pope was signaling that the Church was changing! There were winds of modernity galling through the now open doors of the medieval church! Did the pope plan to announce major changes when the meeting of bishops occurred later in the year?

Just as predictably, the conservatives were howling, and here I have to say—who can blame them? Because the church’s teaching on marriage is bedrock.

Of course, it’s also bogus, since a suspiciously high number of marriages are getting annulled, nowadays: a byzantine procedure that requires two tribunals to decide that, no, a marriage never existed at all. Some of it anyone can go along with—if papá is standing over you with a gun, there’s not much consent involved. But life is messier, in general, and the church is increasingly willing to nullify a marriage because, well, your husband turned out to be a drunk. Oh, and guess what? It doesn’t hurt to throw a little money at the problem, and pay for “advocates” who can…well, advocate.

So how many marriages are getting annulled? Here’s Wikipedia:

Diocesan tribunals completed over 49000 cases for nullity of marriage in 2006. Over the past 30 years about 55 to 70% of annulments have occurred in the United States. The growth in annulments—at least in the US—has been substantial. In 1968 338 marriages were annulled. In 2006 27,000 were.[17]    

In fact, both JPII and Benedict repeatedly called for crackdowns on giving annulments, especially at a meeting of the Roman Rota, which typically hears cases for annulment. Here’s what one source said:

In 1991, when Pope John Paul II wanted to defend marriage against what he perceived to be emerging threats, he used his speech to the Rota to lay out a natural-law case for marriage. He acknowledged that marriage is shaped by culture, but contemporary secular culture, he warned, had now become hostile to marriage. Freedom had become "absolutized," and the pontiff wished to make clear where the boundaries lay.

Three years later, in 1994, Pope John Paul II admonished the Rota against the ease with which annulments were being granted. Judges must know the truth, and the truth "is not always easy." Avoid "the temptation to lighten the heavy demands of observing the law in the name of a mistaken idea of compassion and mercy."

Ah, for the good old days!

Right, so what did Francis do? Well apparently he drifted in and gave a seven-paragraph address. Here again is Charles J. Reid on the subject:

What he delivered was a beautiful meditation on Jesus and the qualities of the good judge. The judge, he began, must be fully and maturely human. He or she (and canon law permits women to exercise the judicial office) must never be legalistic, must avoid dry abstractions, and must instead serve the ends of real justice. And justice, he stressed, required full awareness of the needs of the persons before the court. Attend to the person, he emphasized, in his or her "concrete realities."

As Reid writes, the most important message—the take-home, as we used to say at Wal-Mart—was the judges must be pastoral, not judicial. Which leaves me wondering—if the judges are not to be judicial, well, who is? The answer, as I read the article, is nobody: since Jesus had focused his life on the pastoral, everybody within the church is supposed to be pastoral.

Well, the Vatican press office, who must be salivating for the days of Pope Benedict, came out and said that a private call was not a policy shift, not a realignment on doctrine. Which is probably true; there’s an old Roman saying: popes come and go, the curia remains forever.

And this pope needs to be careful, because if he puts out all these hints, and then doesn’t come through? If his bishops hang tough and say, “sorry, but divorced Catholics cannot take communion?” Look at the trouble in the Anglican Church over the ordination of a gay bishop—it would look like Queen Elizabeth’s tea party in comparison to the fight over remarriage of divorced Catholics.

I’m an old atheist, so I tend to scoff at the whole thing. Still, I do sort of wonder…

…should somebody yank the telephone out of the Holy Father’s office?

A Man of God and Catholicism Lite

Three men of God, three men speaking their views on gay people. Which strikes me as a bit odd—has anyone come around and asked Ricky Martin, say, or Anderson Cooper their views on religion? At any rate, we have the pope on record—he’s a sinner, he said, as we all are. And who is he to judge gay people? Here’s his quote, as it appeared in The New York Times:

In Buenos Aires I used to receive letters from homosexual persons who are “socially wounded” because they tell me that they feel like the church has always condemned them. But the church does not want to do this. During the return flight from Rio de Janeiro, I said that if a homosexual person is of good will and is in search of God, I am no one to judge. By saying this, I said what the catechism says. Religion has the right to express its opinion in the service of the people, but God in creation has set us free: it is not possible to interfere spiritually in the life of a person.

A person once asked me, in a provocative manner, if I approved of homosexuality. I replied with another question: “Tell me: when God looks at a gay person, does he endorse the existence of this person with love, or reject and condemn this person?” We must always consider the person.

OK—it’s a step. It’s better than Benedict, who tended to couple the word “homosexuality” with the phrase “intrinsically evil,” or the like. And we all took the bait—hey, after all those years of Ratzinger, we’re yearning for a pope who gets it, who starts moving the church forward.

And he certainly seems different—living in the guest house, driving a Ford escort, eschewing the pomp that was Benedict’s lifeblood and focusing on the poor. But how liberal is this pope? Here are his views on women, from the same interview:

I am wary of a solution that can be reduced to a kind of “female machismo,” because a woman has a different makeup than a man. But what I hear about the role of women is often inspired by an ideology of machismo. Women are asking deep questions that must be addressed. The church cannot be herself without the woman and her role. The woman is essential for the church. Mary, a woman, is more important than the bishops. I say this because we must not confuse the function with the dignity. We must therefore investigate further the role of women in the church. We have to work harder to develop a profound theology of the woman. Only by making this step will it be possible to better reflect on their function within the church. The feminine genius is needed wherever we make important decisions. The challenge today is this: to think about the specific place of women also in those places where the authority of the church is exercised for various areas of the church.

Is it just me, or is anyone else out there confused about that first sentence, and the reference to “female machismo?” I think what he’s saying is something like, “insisting that men and women are equals and should be able to hold the same positions is wrong. Women and men are intrinsically different, and no, dears, no priesthood or God forbid papacy for you!”

And am I the only one who is thoroughly sick of the church’s trotting out Mary every time women raise legitimate questions or demands? Partly because as I understand it, biblically speaking, Mary isn’t an especially likeable character—nor does she seem to figure very prominently in the life of Jesus. Here’s Wikipedia on the subject:

There is also an incident in which Jesus is sometimes interpreted as rejecting his family. "And his mother and his brothers arrived, and standing outside, they sent in a message asking for him^[Mk 3:21] ... And looking at those who sat in a circle around him, Jesus said, 'These are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother.'"

But all this veneration of Mary seems to come with the message: we’re perfectly happy to put you on a pedestal, but not in the priesthood. And notice as well that the pope’s “liberal” views on homosexuality don’t go that far, he hardly comes out and says, “both gay and straight people were made in God’s image, both of their loves are of equal worth, and gay people will have the same rights and privileges as heterosexuals in the Catholic church, including marriage.”

Nonetheless, everybody is jumping on the bandwagon, including the Reverend Timothy M. Dolan, the Archbishop of New York. Here he is, courtesy of The New York Times:

After Sunday Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Cardinal Dolan, who has himself softened his language on homosexuality in the past year, likened the pope to the Yankees’ retiring relief pitcher: “I think he’s our Mariano Rivera. He’s a great relief to all of us.”

Ummmm, this is a guy who said the following to The New York Times during Holy Week this year:

“Well, the first thing I’d say to them is: ‘I love you, too. And God loves you. And you are made in God’s image and likeness. And — and we — we want your happiness. But — and you’re entitled to friendship,’” Cardinal Dolan said. “But we also know that God has told us that the way to happiness, that — especially when it comes to sexual love — that is intended only for a man and woman in marriage, where children can come about naturally.”

Yeah? This sounds suspiciously like all those people whose views are “evolving,” and can’t we say it, at last. “Evolving” simply means not sticking your neck out until it’s absolutely imperative—failure to do so will make you look like a complete hypocrite. Great—now we know that God loves us, as well as the Cardinal, but sex with a person of the same gender is a sin.

The person who gets it? Gene Robinson, who just about caused a schism in the church, when he became the first openly gay bishop. And as you’ll see in the clip below, he doesn’t mince words: we’ve done a lot of damage to gay people, and we’re gonna have to work hard to repair the damage. There’s a reason why LGBT people are suspicious and angry. He comes out and says it to a group of Presbyterians who will be giving out glasses of water at the Gay Pride march later in the day: “You are representing the community of Christians, Jews and Muslims who are 95% of the repression we LGBT people have experienced in our lives.”

Or how about, “you are the oppressor offering the cup of water to the oppressed?” Robinson doesn’t pull the punches, or—perhaps a better image—hesitate to go into the temple and lecture to the money lenders. Nor—from the faces of the stony Presbyterians—is his message better received.

And Robinson is out there, walking the talk—passing out the cups of water to drag queens, scantily-clad boys, street performers, and the just-general-folk who drift by.

For all the talk of not focusing on abortion, homosexuality, contraception—what are we hearing? A sort of Catholicism of Nice—we won’t talk about it, we won’t judge, now come into the church but please, lower your voices, don’t rock the boat, no demands.

Congratulations—the Catholic Church has progressed to Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.