My Creed

As I set out on my walk today, rosary in hand, I rattled through the Apostles Creed. We always begin with the fundamental statement of faith. It occurred to me though, that my personal fundamental statement of faith, my personal creed is much simpler.

God is and nothing else matters.

It is the first faith commitment I ever made and the foundation of my life.

An Open Letter to the Church in the Face of Abuse Scandals

To: Cardinal Daniel N. DiNardo and bishops collectively as the USCCB

Denying sin is self-deception.

If we say, “We are without sin,” we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we acknowledge our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrongdoing. If we say, “We have not sinned," we make him a liar, and his word is not in us. (1John: 1:8-10)

This passage slapped me in the face this morning during morning prayer, when struggling, as I have been lately with faith in the governance of my church. Please note I do not struggle with faith in the mystical body, real presence, or the Nicene creed. I certainly do not struggle with faith in our all loving and merciful God. I only struggle with, well, you. 

I write in the face of scandals, plural. In spite of revelation after revelation of crime and cover-up, I, like many of the faithful who sit in your pews, have very little evidence of any real change. Neither slick statements written by image experts and lawyers nor half-baked apologies from the bishops sitting on their thrones at the altar have shown any real repentence. Real repentence requires acknowledgement of guilt.

Our church no longer requires public penance. Perhaps we should. For clergy who abuse children or adults over who they have authority, public penance consists of facing the police and the courts and—pray God—admission of guilt.

You however—every one of you who have in any way covered up, brushed aside, hidden, or mismanaged cases of abuse—have yet to face adequate consequences. The financial consquences will be paid by the faithful, not by you. Bring them on! Personally, i think that if we're forced to sell every asset we have and go back to meeting in homes and public places, so be it. Perhaps the energy of the early church may come back.

Sins so public require public penance. Everyone of you who has abused church power in this way should strip off your robes and badges of office, go down on your knees in front of your cathedrals—and maybe the churches of every parish in your diocese—and beg God's forgiveness and ours.

My faith tells me I have to forgive. I'm working on that. It also teaches me that if you wish to have God's forgiveness you have to admit the sin. Pleased do,

Carol Roddy

Notre Dame Burns

I tell you that something greater than the temple is here.

                                Mathew 12:6

I watched in horror, my stomach churning, holding back tears while the great cathedral in Paris burned. I wept when pictures surfaced of people kneeling, praying, singing in the street.

The outpouring of grief for that holy site, that great cultural artifact, "the heart of France," has been genuine and understandable. My own sense of loss is deep. Very quickly, however, we began to hear people struggling to make sense of the event, Worse, some folks began to fold it into their own disparate belief system in awful ways. Some of the things I heard:

1. It can't have been an accident, it had to be "them" (Muslims, anarchists, whoever you define as "them")
2. Our Lady is alerting France to mend their ways and return to faith.
3. The cathedral had been corrupted into a tourist attraction and didn't deserve God's protection.
4. Let it burn, it housed/tolerated/covered up pedophilia.

What struck me as the evening wore on is no one died. The destruction, heart rending though it was, didn't rise to the level of even one mass shooting: Parkland, Columbine, ChristChurch. I wept for a building, and I ought to week for the lost,

Heroic efforts went into rescuing dozens of artifacts, some quite ancient, some recent, some quite valuable, some priceless, and all with great religious significance. The media's emphasis on the crown of thorns relic troubled me, mostly because I am all to aware the the provenance of such relics is shaky at best. I found myself thinking I would sidestep that one and go right for Saint Louis IX's tunic. I am generally put off by relics that are body parts (the tongue of Anthony, the head of the Bapist—or that of Catherine of Siena) and attracted to objects like Francis's little brown robe or Katherine Drexel's desk. The ones reputed to be associated with Christ and the earliest church tend to be questionable. There was a not trade in relics during the middle ages. The crown of thorns itself was once used as security on a loan. That's how Louis IX acquired it.

We were reminded later in the week that three historic black churches in Louisiana were torched in the previous month or so. As billionaires pledged millions to rebuild Notre Dame, less affluent folks began send their mite to the fund to rebuild those churches. I plan to do the same.  We were also reminded that people are starving, and some asked "Where are the billionaires when people need food?" Good question.

How then should I respond to this? I pray that the cathedral will rise and the faith of France— and indeed the whole world—will rise with it, resurrection out of ashes being an appropriate thought for Holy Week.  I will probably send my bit to the cathedral fund. I will most definitely send some to the fund for the churches. Food causes are always dear to my heart and in my budget. 

What came to me was this: love what God loves. And what is that? Us. God loves every one of us, and, as I read the Gospels, his special preference is for the poor and marginalized. Does he care about buildings, relics, art? Only insofar as they enrich us. I'm glad they rescued the relics, but I'd trade them in a second to rescue one hungry child. I'm glad they are rebuilding the cathedral because the hearts of people are elevated by it.  I just hope France finds peace, unity, and faith in the process.