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William C. Altreuter
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Monday, April 04, 2005

It has been interesting to read how many people are weighing in on the death of John Paul II with some variation on the theme, "I didn't agree with him about a lot of things but...." It seems to me that this statement betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of who the Pope is, and what a Pope does. This is hardly surprising among non-Cathlolics, and I suppose among American Catholics it should come as no surprise either, but still, it sounds odd to my ears. Catholics don't agree or disagree on matters of faith-- the fundamental precepts of Catholic doctrine are not open to debate, and among these precepts are certainly the concepts of sin and forgiveness. When people say, "I disagree with the Pope about X" what they are most often saying, I think, is that they don't believe that something is a sin. This is interesting, because it undercuts some very important concepts in Catholicism. Catholics sin-- every one of them. It would be committing the sin of pride for someone to suggest otherwise. The point of the faith is that sins may be forgiven-- if one acknowledges the sin, and is sincerely sorry for offending g-d by committing the sin, than one can be absolved of the sin.

In our society it seems as though self-esteem has replaced repentance to the degree that absolution is no longer what is wanted; validation is the new sacrament of the day. This is, I think, why this Pope, who was by any measure I can conceive of a good man, and a fine moral example for our time, is thought by many to be out of step, and "conservative" whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. There aren't wets and drys in Catholic theology-- it is a faith, and as such is much more about the questions than the answers. There are answers, to be sure, but for the most part the answers are very unsatisfying unless accepted in faith. You want to disagree with Catholic teachings, go right ahead, but don't think for a minute that what you are doing is redefining Catholicism-- what you are doing is defining yourself out.

On the other hand, there is nothing in the Catholic faith that says that by sinning you are a bad person. Catholics believe that we are imperfect, but perfectible. This is not at all the same thing as believing that we can become perfect-- no
Catholic would have any patience with such nonsense. It is all process-- working towards becoming better, recognizing that the ideal, as embodied in Jesus, and, I suppose, his mom, amounts to recognizing that this is something we can never
achieve. All we can do is try, and when we fail, if we acknowledge our failure, we can set out to try once again. I suspect that this belief lies at the heart of the clergy sex abuse scandal. The unhappy sinners who were sent back out into the community were unworthy sinners, just like the rest of us, and just as worthy of forgiveness in the eyes of the Church. Unfortunately Cardinal Law and the others forgot to render unto Cesear, not an uncommon mistake by the Church over the last two millennia.

Over the last Holy Week I was reminded of a short story I'd read years ago by B. Traven called, "While the Priest Was Away". I had to special order the book, and just re-read it. It is about a Mexican peasant who is the sacristan of the
church in his village. The local priest is called away on business, and directs the sacristan to clean the statues of the saints in his absence. The man does so, but the statue of the Blessed Virgin is damaged by his negligence. It works out for him,
however, and ends happily, he believes, through the intervention of Judas Iscariot. You should read it-- like all of Traven that I've read (not enough yet) it is wonderfully told, and the twist is hilarious, but the point I am trying to make here is that the sacristan would never have tried to argue that damaging the statue wasn't his fault, or that his negligence and pride weren't sins. He is a simple man, but he is well aware of his sinful nature. Rather than denying this, however, he embraces faith, and in doing so believes that he is rewarded. Indeed, although Traven would no doubt take it different view, to the other characters in the story it is clear that he has been rewarded for his faith.

It would be an interesting thing to lead a life of faith. It can be done, even today. Actually, I have a feeling that it has never been all that easy, so saying "even today" in some way depreciates those that have done it in the past. It was probably as hard for St Augustine as it was for Francis of Assisi as it was for Thomas Merton. It is not an easy row to hoe ever, but it seems to me that this Pope managed it, and that is an impressive thing. He leaves a church that is not what I'd want it to be, and is almost certainly not all that he could have hoped for. I don't think it is fair to pick arguments with it, though; for all its imperfections, for all of its refusal to look at the way we live now and accomidate itself to that, the Catholic Church still gets credit in my book for hewing to its core beliefs. People have been turned to pilars of salt, I'm told, for less.

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