... and thank you.
However beautiful I find my Church in so many ways, however, I recognize that it's part of God's choir, not the entirety. As Jesuits in general have earned my admiration, I have to wonder if some of them might be equally aware whatever their disinclination to broadcast it. I still consider myself as thoroughly Catholic as anyone else, even though more than a few of the laity would disagree. I've rubbed shoulders with enough Unitarian/Universalists to enjoy their company very much, and I have very strong Native American animist leanings into the bargain. Throw in a few pre-Christian Celtic notions and I guess it could mislead some people.
Catholic practice - not to mention some Catholic clergy - vary a great deal more than many both inside and out of the Church are aware. For instance, even JPII officially declared that there's nothing whatsoever of Native American animist beliefs in conflict with his understanding of actual Church doctrine. Some priests are also practicing Buddhists with no problem since the latter is a philosophy, not a religion; and in some parts of the world it's not uncommon for a Buddhist and a Catholic to co-officiate at ceremonies including weddings.
Yesterday Dolan was the first I've heard to openly broach the subject of not requiring celibacy for priests unmarried at the time of ordination. It's been officially allowed for some time when clergy leave one denomination for ours. Some single priests have quietly married afterwards of late, continuing their full pastoral duties, and nobody I know of has been kicked out for it.
So I don't think Dolan took any great risks with his statement that required celibacy for the priesthood is a changeable discipline. As opposed to female priests, although you can bet that's waiting in the wings. Between the Nuns on the Bus and Mother Theresa, who told JPII to his face that he needed to make that change because we'd make BETTER priests, I don't see how it can be more than a matter of time.
But big ships turn slow.
In no way am I huffing at you, dear Hedgehog, because I dearly wish your friendship and look forward to inviting you on my Buddy List as soon as we get one. Besides, I'm always in real need of someone to talk things over with, and I won't get it in this tiny, remote corner of the Bible Belt where I retired even though there's actually a little Catholic mission church here.
I don't want to sound like I think I'm the Lone Ranger at all, because in the first 4 or 5 years when I hung on there by my fingernails, I saw entire families go elsewhere, even one large family who used to drive 100 miles round trip on Sundays because the parents grew up here. A particular otherwise congenial lady even slid into her pew muttering the direst imprecations under her breath against the individual who's always considered herself Head Hen. But this place has real problems which I blame mostly on the vicious small town syndrome in general.
For instance, the day after I arrived here, I took myself to church to give thanks for safe arrival. Before Mass, the circuit priest briefly introduced me to the congregation, I stood up and smiled hello without a word!, and sat back down. Later on my way out, Head Hen slipped up behind me and hissed, "Well, YOU sure made a hit with him!" I swear it was downright malevolence in her voice. And it was still one of our friendliest encounters ever. At the time I privately dismissed her as more than weird so I didn't even acknowledge that I'd heard her.
The straw that broke my camel's back came at a midweek Mass during the winter when she and I were the only two congregants who showed up. On Tuesdays, Fr. always invited public comments on the lesson which this time it happened to regard tolerance. Said Head Hen, "I know exactly what you mean, father. For instance, her! (I turned around and saw her pointing at me.) From the very first day I've never liked anything about her. Not the way she looks or sounds or dresses or anything! But I'm supposed to be nice to her."
My jaw just dropped. Fr. went on as if nothing had happened. Like almost everybody else, he must've been afraid of her. Coming from a prominent family, she's always thought the world should bow and scrape to her, and when anyone doesn't, out come the long knives. I don't think she's really insane, just mean as a snake. He's got a mean streak of his own, too; after listening to him a few months I asked casually if he was diocesan or if he belonged to a particular order? He snapped that he used to be a Jesuit but they kicked him out for severe alcoholism and he didn't really care for them at all now. Coming on the heels of a compliment towards them from me, it did not bode well for the future between us.
Anyway! Over a year later Head Hen saw me at a soup&sandwich lunch at another church; she walked up and dared to ask why I'd stayed away from 'our' church so long. "Could it be anything someone said to you?"
Well, there's a limit to my self control. I dropped my fork on the table even though I'd been on the verge of my first bite of Million Dollar Pie, and I stood up and dressed her down well above normal speaking volume. "How DARE YOU come in here and try to embarrass me with your damned lies! (followed by a very short version of our last meeting) You might as well pack for hell, woman, because that's where you're headed!"
Head Hen started to gasp and flutter at me - for public benefit, of course - that she had no idea what I was talking about. I fired back, "You sure as hell do, because you did it to my face and everybody knows what a stinking, lying coward you are!" Then for effect I threw my plate in the trash and stomped out. I have to be really angry to throw away Million Dollar Pie. And I never thought I'd cuss inside a church before, but that time I did.
During the following week several people slipped up to me in public and grinned, with a thumbs up. They're all too cowed to fight back or even openly support anyone who'd dare, but I'm not anyone's property so I occasionally let loose. Head Hen's poor bil practically hugged me in the grocery store's parking lot, though.
So, no... I don't find a lot of chatty company around here. Head Hen has a few well-trained chicks running loose too, but those stories are for another day. I never meant to keep typing so long this afternoon, but my fingers seemed to have a will of their own. Now I'm too exhausted even to check for typos. But I'm also content; that old saying about better to give than to receive goes for ulcers too.
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