Author: JenniferFitz

Simmering.

Thank you to Bearing for linking to this free pdf booklet by Fr. Longenecker on St. Benedict for Busy Parents.  I have been so desperate for something to read . . . desperate enough to crack the pages of White Fang, which does not interest me in the least, but it’s on my shelves for certain schoolchildren, and what else was I going to read?  Now I’ve got 25 pages of reprieve from that monster.

–> The library is right out, because I absolutely cannot keep track of one more thing right now, and the library means about twenty more things, all hidden under mattresses and stuck behind dressers by the time the third renewal comes around.  Sometimes, being a person who is simply not interested in television is maybe not all it’s cracked up to be.  Even if actually Eric Sammons is right.  (He is.)

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In other news, if you had were one of the people (contacted privately) praying for the best dog in the world in her recent illness, she is home and looking  a little better.  Looks like a case of thyroid gone AWOL, guess that happens to middle-aged ladies of many species.  Venison and rice and a big bone boiling on the stove for her now, the rest of us I think are having frozen pizza.

Under Water

Submersion continues.  But look, Brandon at Siris is writing about Usury!  Yes!  Oh I love it! And there’s more here, that I haven’t had time to read yet, but I know you will, since you are so desperately bored without me.

And many smart people (including Siris) have already posted the famous First World Problems music video, but if you resisted watching, no really, it actually is pretty funny.  A tad heavy-handed at the end, but probably if you watch TV normally you won’t notice so much.

To finish the theme, here’s a day in the life at a third-world small business.

Enjoy.  Have I mentioned I have an inordinate passion for air-conditioning this time of year?

 

Out in the real world . . .

I’m submerged.  (All good, more or less.)

Also very grateful for the contributions thus far in the “what to do with the accused” discussion below.  Please join in if you have not already, though I’m going to be in and out over the next week or so, so if you are brand new to posting here, just wait patiently until I sneak online and get your comment approved.

If you want something useful to read, check out Christian LeBlanc’s post on how Bible translations are used to support the theology of the translators.  Required reading for, mmn, everyone.

If you’re a shameless Tollefsen fan, gee I’m only 10 days late in pointing out Chris T’s latest on Public Discourse.  It’s him explaining to other philosophers about why one ought to continue to care for severely severely disabled persons.  [No opinion of my own on the merits of the arguments presented.  I tend to stick to whatever the catechism says.  So of course I come to the same conclusion, though more directly if less profoundly.]

And look: John Hathaway’s having a CD sale.

Lotta other good stuff happening on the internet, I’m sure.  Feel free to post links in the combox, because wow I don’t think I’m going to have time to write any of the 10,000 things I wish I had time to write right now.  Have a great week.

Discussion Question: How to handle accusations against clergy?

The question is this:

In your opinion, how should accusations of clergy misconduct be handled, so that the rights of both the innocent and the guilty are respected?  Or if you prefer, accusations against school teachers, catechists, police officers, you name it.

Does your diocese [district / department / etc.], or one you are familiar with, have a good process that works well?

Do you know of a case where an accusation of a serious crime was made, and the situation was handled well?  What did it look like?  Please do not use identifying info.  This is not about any particular case, but about what methods that can be applied generally to all cases.

(Which means, I expect,the method needs to have multiple options, depending on the  nature of the accusations, etc.)

Also, if you have a story to tell, stick to the facts that you know.  Conjecture is not helpful and I’ll have to make fun of you it will lead others into temptation.

–Reply in the combox, or on your blog and then leave a link in the combox.  Thanks.–

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My personal experience: I’ve been very closely involved in two serious cases — one accusation of child molestation, one of rape.  One of the accusations was true, the other was false. [Those are the facts, not the findings. I was close enough to both cases to know the facts.]  Both cases were handled fairly, in my opinion, by the authorities to whom the incidents were reported, and by the police.  Allegations were taken seriously, steps taken to keep minors safe, and investigations conducted quickly and with no pressure to sway the witnesses one way or another.

That said, in the case of the true accusation, the criminal committed more crimes before he was apprehended.  (He was at large, stranger to the victims.)  In the case of the false accusation, the man accused did suffer tremendously from the social stigma, being removed from work with minors, etc., even though he was eventually (and fairly quickly) acquitted.

–> As a result of these experiences, I have a hard time seeing my way clear to what an “ideal” process is.  If the accusations are true, there is a pressing need to protect any future victims.  Sweeping measures to remove the accused from any chance to harm more people is important.  And the victims themselves need to be given tremendous support.

But especially with sexual crimes, and often enough with other crimes, there is no evidence.  It is very easy to bring false accusations.  Someone so inclined can shut down a ministry at will, simply by making the accusation.  It takes a very clear head and a fair bit of life experience to be able to weed through the claims and personalities and discern whether the accusation is likely to be true or not.

–> I imagine many cases are not like the ones in which I was involved — where there were clear-thinking bystanders who knew the the parties involved and the details of the alleged incidents well enough to quickly resolve whether there was a probable crime.  One of the hallmarks of repeated sexual abuse is that a group of on-lookers enable the behavior and refuse to intervene.  Another, is that if innocent party is not taken seriously, it can wreak some serious psychological damage — creating an “unreliable” victim and the impression that the victim is the guilty one.

And distinctive in the case of church-related scandals, is that I don’t think we know each other very well. The community is often geographically spread out, and lives mostly apart.  We come together for a tiny slice of our lives, but the world of church ministry is separate from our other work, our other leisure, our home life, etc.  There are few people who know us very well.  Who get to see us in all places and times and contexts.

So it is hard.  I’d like to hear thoughts on what you think would make a good, fair way of dealing with accusations.

 

 

More on Forgiveness

I want to elaborate on my last post.   Forgiveness is not easy, and there are lots of useful tips that begin with something like, “In order to forgive, first . . . [insert important, worthwhile spiritual point].”

But before all that:  In order to forgive, first someone must do something wrong.

Our culture is awash in fake forgiveness.  Part of it is linguistic — the words “I’m sorry” mean “I have sorrow”, and you can grieve many things, not only your sins.  The words “I apologize” have at their origin the idea of a defense, or explanation, that may well have nothing to do with guilt.  But we respond “I forgive you” to some of these innocent sorrows and defenses, and that can create the false impression that we are frequently forgiving when really we are not.

For example:

My mother-in-law is half an hour late.  I rant and stew.  How could she make me wait?!! And then she arrives, and it turns out there was a bad accident, she had left home early but was stuck in traffic for an hour [of course I didn’t have my phone with me, she did call], she is terribly sorry [she really is] that I was inconvenienced.  Well, I could say “I forgive you”, except she never did anything wrong.    She’s completely innocent.  If anything, I’m the guilty one, assuming the worst about her and getting mad before I even knew what had happened.

When we pretend we’re forgiving someone, but really they are innocent, that’s what I mean by “fake forgiveness”.    It is a genuine letting go of anger and bitterness, but it’s not the hard kind of forgiveness that Jesus demands.

Another kind of fake forgiveness is the “I understand”.   I once had a priest yell at me, in church, as I was saying my penance after confession.  He was a crotchety old man, hard of hearing, in a lot of pain due to various ailments, and probably fed up to here with other parishioners that were eerily like myself.  He was wrong.  A priest certainly should not march out into the pews and loudly and angrily continue the topic brought up in confession.  But I could understand.  Grumpy guy.  Grumpiness happens.  I was glad it was me and not some other person whose faith would be more easily shaken.  I argued with him, he took my point, two grumpy people satisfied to have each said our due.

–> But “I understand” can’t be the foundation of forgiveness.  It is a help, for certain.  It is the proverbial spoonful of sugar, that camaraderie and compassion for fellow sinners that makes it easier to overlook faults not unlike our own.  But Jesus asks me to forgive even the people who are just really, really bad.  The ones who have no excuse.

The nice thing is that many of us get to mostly wade in shallow waters.  We get to “forgive” innocent people, and we can comfortably go about excusing the genuine but minor wrong-doing that we face from day to day.

But what if we kept our perception of right and wrong perfectly clear?

To my mother-in-law, I wouldn’t say “I forgive you”.  I’d say: You haven’t done anything wrong.  Thank you so much for thinking of me, that is very thoughtful, but I’d be foolish to be mad at you when you are perfectly innocent.

And to Father Grumpy, instead of “I understand why he’s so crotchety, he’s old and over worked and his knees are killing him today”, It would be just:  That was wrong.  He should not have done that.  That was a real injustice against me, and against the sacrament, and against his ministry.  But I forgive him.  He doesn’t have a right to do what is wrong, but he does have a right to be forgiven, so I guess no excuse for me being Mrs. Grumpy the rest of the day.

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Oh, I know.  These are ideals.  You think I’m any good at this?  No way.  I most certainly am not.  And I don’t guess I’m explaining it well, either.

But this is the staircase of depravity I was talking about earlier.  If I’m regularly patting myself on the back for “forgiving” innocent people, I’m fooling myself.  I haven’t got a clue about forgiveness until someone actually does something wrong.

And then if I explain away every real wrongdoing with a “he had a good reason”, “nobody is perfect”, “I’d be tempted too,” then I’ve missed my chance.   Of course I should understand — I could write a book on human weakness, of course I understand.  But I need to go beyond that.  Both so that my soul gets practice actually forgiving, and as a favor to my fellow sinners.

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The first person who showed me forgiveness was a department secretary.  I owed her a form.  I didn’t fill out the form on time.  She came to my cube and said, “You didn’t give me the form.”

I made a thousand excuses.  I couldn’t bear to be actually wrong, because I didn’t know then that you could be wrong and still live.

And she kept saying to my every excuse, “I forgive you.  I forgive you.  Jennifer, I FORGIVE YOU.  (Now please shut up and fill out the form.)”

I finally shut up and filled out the form.

What? I had done something wrong?  And she freely acknowledged I DID SOMETHING WRONG?  And she wasn’t mad?  Even though I really had done something wrong?  At cost to her?  And she demanded nothing in repayment.  Not an apology, not an ‘I’ll make it up to you,” not even an “it will never happen again”.  Not even the pleasure of berating me for twenty seconds.  Nothing.

It was a completely new world to me.

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And that’s the world I was talking about yesterday.  If that helps at all.  I know, I know.  Forgiving small things is so much easier.  Yes. Yes.  But it’s a start.   I think we kid ourselves if we say we can tackle anything bigger, before we’ve got a handle on how to forgive the little sins first.

And yeah, supernatural aid definitely required.

Grace and Generosity

Today in the car my eldest daughter was wishing for soft, cushion-y flip-flops.  “Maybe for your birthday,” I say.

“My birthday is in February.”

“So write a letter to Santa now, telling him what to look for on summer clearance in August.”

Children start composing letters aloud.

Then I suggest, “Wait a minute.  Not Santa.  Write to the Easter Bunny.”

Mr. Boy begins: “Dear Easter Bunny, I have been very good this year . . .”

And I correct: “No.  It’s Dear Easter Bunny, I have been very bad this year.  That is why I am thankful for Easter. If I were good, I wouldn’t need it . . .”

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–> One of the advantages of homeschooling, is that the children labor under no illusions about mom’s sins.

Sometimes people who see me teach as a catechist get the wrong idea.  They see how I run a class for an hour (So much energy! So focused on the children! So kind! So enthusiastic!) and imagine my own kids must be getting that 16 hours a day.

Um, no.

Just because I can do something for an hour does not mean I can do it all day every day.

But the thing about being a catechist, is that there’s a certain pressure to be an unrealistically good person.  Talking to friends who have worked in ministry elsewhere (non-catholic, as it happens), it seems to be par for the course.  You’re a Christian Leader.  You’re a Teacher and an Example.  And if you screw-up, You’re Fired.

It isn’t enough to be competent at your work.  Your work is not only to teach what is right and wrong, but to somehow meet spec.  Our #1 message is that we are all wretched sinners in need of a Savior, but if you’re a priest / minister / catechist, you’d better not be especially needful of that Savior.

That’s not real.

I’m fortunate, in that although I certainly get tempted to commit enormous sins, I mostly stick to goofing off and yelling at my kids as the bread and butter of my sinfulness.  So I guess I have a job as long as I can keep that up.

But here’s what: Everybody faces temptation.  I have been very moved by the humility of ordinary Christians who will openly acknowledge horrid sins.  I did it, I should not have done it, I am sorry I did it, I will never do it again so help me God. 

Public ministry discourages that humility.  It discourages it slowly and insidiously, by first teaching you to deny the venial sins.  What will people think if they find out I ______?  Will they refuse to let me minister to _______ if they hear that I _______?  I am not alone among catholic volunteers in being a tad nervous about confessing to my own parish priest.  I work for the guy — what if he gets the wrong idea when he hears my confession?

[I do, anyway, though not as often as would be good for me.  A lousy prayer life is one of my other besetting sins.]

So I am unsurprised when I hear that some Famous Catholic is by all appearances guilty of some tremendous sin, but is unable to admit to having done wrong.  To see clerics justify their serious sins, and maybe even leave the church over them?  Well, I’ve seen other ministers brush off lesser sins.  It is a staircase.  At the bottom you put on a good face for the public; as unseemly bits seep out here and there, what you cannot hide, you must somehow justify.  By the time a serious temptation comes along, the habit of fleeing condemnation is long since engrained.

Forgiveness is only way out.

You want honest clergy?  Learn to forgive.  Not to deny, not to downplay, not to ignore.  To forgive.   Where sin abounds, grace must abound all the more.

The Christian paradox is that where grace abounds, sin loses its hold.  For if I know I will be forgiven, then I can admit I was wrong.  And if I can admit I was wrong, and only if I can admit I was wrong, then I can begin the work of repairing my soul.

The Rite by Matt Baglio

The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist, by Matt Baglio, Doubleday, 2009

I recommend this book, on the condition that you read the whole thing.  Otherwise, skip.  Just not healthy any other way.  –>> And no I have not seen the film, [which Father L. reviewed here, and has even more to say on the whole topic here]  and no I’m not planning to see the film, because I am too impatient to watch things when I could be reading instead.  Also I see on the author’s page that the paperback has updated material in it — my comments here are based on the edition above.

Anyhow, back to the book.  Here’s what it is, per the author:

The purpose of this book is not to promote any one faith over another, but to offer a detailed account of one priest’s journey from a rational skeptic to a practicing exorcist. I didn’t set out to write with any preconceived bias and as such the book is written in a straightforward journalistic style, which means that I give respect to the beliefs and testimonies on all sides, including medical science.

And that’s what it is.  We follow Fr. Gary Thomas (a real guy) as he heads to Rome on sabbatical in 2005, after being freshly appointed diocesan exorcist.  His travails are, wow, amazingly normal.  If you spend any amount of time in the Catholic Church, you will totally recognize the place.   You couldn’t write fiction like this.  Fr. Thomas does finally manage to secure an apprenticeship with a practicing exorcist, and the book version does clearly show the humdrum, hard, dull work that goes with the territory.

[Interestingly — the reports of boring catholic exorcisms match very closely to what I have heard described by evangelical protestants who have experience with boring exorcisms of their own.  Different details as far as the methods of the exorcists, but identical phenomenon on the recipients’ end.]

The author sticks to the straightforward, journalistic style all the way through.  It is not a “catholic” book in the sense of trying to evangelize or prove a point of the faith.  The reporting could come straight out of the Herald Tribune.  But it is a firmly catholic book in the sense that any book which earnestly reports the truth is necessarily catholic.

In addition to following Fr. Thomas’s personal story, the book explains catholic teaching on the supernatural in very clear terms.  There is also an examination of how demon possession relates to psychological disorders, including interviews with secular researchers who reject supernatural explanations.  [One of the first jobs of the exorcist is to find a qualified psychiatrist to rule out natural causes.]   One of the reasons I think it is important to stick with the book through to the end, is that it is not at all clear how things are going to turn out, or whether the book will ultimately end up affirming the catholic faith.  [It does.  It can’t help it.  Tell a true story, that’s what you end up with.]

The book follows Fr. Thomas through to his first “for real”, no-doubts-about-it exorcism, in 2007, after he is back home in the states and settled in to his parish assignment.  And here’s the conclusion, so you can rest easy, since if you are smart you will naturally be quite wary of picking up books on these sorts of topics:

These prayers do have power, he thought.  It was a visceral reminder that the age-old conflict between good and evil, sin and salvation, was far from over.  Not only did this validate his calling as a priest, and his choice to become an exorcist, but it was a powerful confirmation of one of the deepest mysteries of his faith.  Even though evil existed in the world, there was a way to defeat it.

Will there be fake news in Heaven?

The IC is having a book-release party for Felon Blames 1970s Church Architecture for Life of Sin. Go take a look.

Someone was asking me yesterday which blogs I follow, and of course I completely blanked out.  (Um, look at my sidebar?).  But I believe I’ve read every single post by the Ironic Catholic since however many years ago it was I discovered the place.   And probably on that day I scrolled through the entire archive.

Intelligent, clean-cut catholic satire that *is* funny and *is not* mean.  How many other writers could sit in the middle of that venn diagram?

mysterious new format problems?

A reader tells me that my new blog format is annoying.  From the description, it sure sounds annoying.  But here’s my trouble:

a) I didn’t change my blog format.

and

b) When I look at the blog, it looks exactly like it always has.

But apparently all of wordpress has fallen into the evil spell.  And when I look at another of the reportedly-affected blogs, it looks the same as always to me.

Help?  Anyone?

Thanks.

Christian Art

Gryphon Rampant Grapic Arts.  Exceedingly cool.  Click and go see.

–> Link courtesy of John McNichol, source of much coolness, whom had I had the great pleasure of meeting during the momcation.  It will not surprise you to learn that the lovely Mrs. McNichol is herself a delightfully interesting catholic-mom person, as I had long suspected.

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And as long as we’re doing a celebrity round-up, Bishop Elizondo, who confirmed the nieces, Wow!  What a guy.   I generally  do not go in for clergy-watching, but my goodness that man has a gift.   Very happy.  Spot-on.  Real pleasure to have been there.

And yes, that was *my* niece arguing with him when he quizzed the kids during the homily. Makes an aunt proud.  (I told her she did the right thing.  Cause she did.  Good girl that one.)