Pox on the Pope? But Not on His People

Yesterday I read an op-ed in the New York Times about Pope Benedict XVI that was so astoundingly blunt that I interrupted Jerry's breakfast read of Sports Illustrated to make him listen to it. (I'm struggling with learning "links" but you can find it in the NYT list of most-e-mailed articles.)

The playwright John Patrick Shanley took the pope and the Roman Catholic Church to task unrelentingly, in a "no-good-can-come-of it" kind of way, as in  "the church is doomed due its intransigent intolerance."

I've never been a Catholic, and I disagree strongly with the Church's stand on homosexuality, birth control, abortion, celibacy, and a men-only priesthood. I'm baffled by the fact that infertile Catholics are not allowed to use IVF.  Nevertheless, I don't like to see the entire Church, which is, after all, people, dissed.

Ancient and out of touch?

I think there are many rank-and-file American Catholics who find spiritual sustenance in their church, who abhor the cover-up of pedophilia, who give money and time to catholic charities and hospitals.  Many disagree with the Church's teachings on social issues and have found ways to circumvent them in their own lives.

I used to be baffled by this "hypocrisy," but now, after months of reading blogs by young Catholic women, I'm more tolerant.

And then there are the Concello girls.

When we were growing up, my sister and I were best friends with the three of them, who lived over the fence from us.  They belonged to St. Martin's Catholic Church, and they had lots of mysterious things they had to do: catechism, confession, diping their fingers in holy water, not eating meat on Fridays.   I remember thinking, whoa,  complicated!

I haven't seen any of the Concellos in years, and I hope to God they didn't campaign against Proposition 8 or go harass people outside Planned Parenthood.  But I respect their attachment to a religion they were born into, that may have enriched their lives in a very personal way that circumvents a pack of men in Rome who are woefully out of touch, intolerant, and unkind. 

Backyard birthday party with the Concello girls, c. 1959.  Front row, left to right: me, Valerie and Vicky Concello, my sister with her hand being held up by Michele Concello.  Best friends through elementary school.