With the House of Cards of "Clerical Celibacy" collapsing in upon him simultaneously in Ireland, and Pennsylvania, and Chile,
Pope Francis mutters: "Haven't these people ever heard of a Statute of Limitations?" Well, something appears to be over. I don't think there's a Roman Catholic left in the world who doesn't know that the majority of Catholic priests are sexual predators, and that that's why they claim to be "celibate."
Not that I, of course, much care. What horrifies and revolts me is not the sexual predation, but the cruelty and the sadism. Sex, even bad sex with ugly old priests and prelates (as long as it doesn't hurt), is pretty much okay by me; what rile and disgust me are the beatings (by clerics, of children).
Even as we blog, the most popular Pope in the world is on a mission in Ireland to try to save anything that he can of the total loss and disaffection of what was once, by definition, Roman Catholic Ireland. But the sins of the Irish Roman Catholic church against their own are so many, so fiendishly horrific and (in a bad sense) black, that there is little chance that even the most sweetly glozing and jesuitical P.F. can pull his chestnuts out of this fire. Personally, I'm actually kind of sorry about it--like many another American (Protestant, Transcendental) Atheist, I have a nostalgic, sentimental fondness for 6th and 7th and 8th century Anglo/Irish Christianity; for their show-offy classicism, and exquisite art and goldsmithing. Like many another Anglo Latinist, I am soul-mates with Alcuin and King Alfred, and I cultivate a certain snobbish indulgence of, not to say condescension towards, Vikings, Franks, Normans and other such johhnies-come-lately to the civilized table: I spend a lot of my leisure hours sipping metaphoric elemental tea with Anna Comnena. But the loss of Ireland is now, apparently irrevocable, and finally destructive to the few tatters of the tawdry old Whore of Rome that had survived the loss and disaffection of Catholic Spain. Makes me want to stand up and recite Ozymondias.
Not that I, of course, much care. What horrifies and revolts me is not the sexual predation, but the cruelty and the sadism. Sex, even bad sex with ugly old priests and prelates (as long as it doesn't hurt), is pretty much okay by me; what rile and disgust me are the beatings (by clerics, of children).
Even as we blog, the most popular Pope in the world is on a mission in Ireland to try to save anything that he can of the total loss and disaffection of what was once, by definition, Roman Catholic Ireland. But the sins of the Irish Roman Catholic church against their own are so many, so fiendishly horrific and (in a bad sense) black, that there is little chance that even the most sweetly glozing and jesuitical P.F. can pull his chestnuts out of this fire. Personally, I'm actually kind of sorry about it--like many another American (Protestant, Transcendental) Atheist, I have a nostalgic, sentimental fondness for 6th and 7th and 8th century Anglo/Irish Christianity; for their show-offy classicism, and exquisite art and goldsmithing. Like many another Anglo Latinist, I am soul-mates with Alcuin and King Alfred, and I cultivate a certain snobbish indulgence of, not to say condescension towards, Vikings, Franks, Normans and other such johhnies-come-lately to the civilized table: I spend a lot of my leisure hours sipping metaphoric elemental tea with Anna Comnena. But the loss of Ireland is now, apparently irrevocable, and finally destructive to the few tatters of the tawdry old Whore of Rome that had survived the loss and disaffection of Catholic Spain. Makes me want to stand up and recite Ozymondias.
posted by anatole at
4:26 AM
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