In the Washington Post’s On Faith blog, author Donna Frietas has begun a series of blog posts under the title “The Stubborn Catholic,” which propose to tackle the moral quandary of staying in the Church despite the revelations of systemic rape, betrayal and abuse committed by priests and their higher-ups. (I hope they’ll also get around to discussing misogyny, homophobia, opposition to contraception and other shortcomings of the Church.) In the first post “On why I am (still) here“, Freitas reveals:
So here it is: For over two years I was stalked by a Catholic priest. I recognize that I am not a “typical victim” in the sense that I am (was) a girl and, in my case, I was not sexually assaulted.
But as with other victims I know what it is like to have my faith in the priesthood terribly violated, and for that violation to nearly destroy me….And, like other victims, when out of desperation I finally told on him, the Catholic officials’ response (or lack of one) to my begging and pleading to make his behavior stop was to prioritize only my silence. I know what it is like to sit in a room with powerful people who want nothing more than for you to disappear, to shut up, who could care less for your safety, your sanity, your well-being. I also know the fear of speaking up to my very core. I still feel that shame and fear. I feel it right now as I type these words. I know the exhaustion of living in the aftermath of this experience and trying to move forward from it without any place to put all that feeling, all that anger. I know what it is like to never have anyone say, “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
And yet, she is still a practicing Roman Catholic. Why?
Freitas explains:
The reasons I love Catholicism–its priests and nuns, its rituals and culture–far outweigh this one hateful part of my past. My faith and place in this tradition is much bigger than one single priest and some terrible church officials. It transcends victimization and unspent anger.
My Catholic faith is so much more. It is my family, my friends, my professional life as a theologian and scholar of religion. It’s the way I mark time during the week and the year and the food I cook depending on the holiday. It is a childhood and a lifetime of experience. It is all over my writing.
I am more than this one scar, even though, like me, it is a stubborn scar. It simply won’t go away.
From this broader sense of Catholic identity I wish to discuss many things–yes, the scandal as it unfolds yet again, but eventually to move on from here to other topics. I will begin from my experience and from there hope to reach beyond my particular story and place in the Catholic tradition to that of others, too, who have stuck around like me. I look forward to the conversations. I hope you do, too.
…I will write this blog from a place of hope because I am hopeful–in the possibility of healing and moving forward on a personal level, but on a communal one, too. I have hope that my Church will some day begin to heal these gaping wounds, which will turn to scars and fade with the years, even though they will never disappear–nor should they. But the hope and healing starts from modest places–from telling the stories of ordinary Catholics who have suffered, who, like me, are still here, from shifting our attention from the clamor about the hierarchy, the pope, the Vatican, to the ordinary folk, the ordinary lay people, priests, and nuns, too, who make the Catholic Church what it really is. The Catholic Church is not all hierarchy. Thank God.
I hope she’s right about the healing and solace of people coming together. But Freitas is fooling herself if she thinks the Catholic Church is not all hierarchy. The Catholic Church is and has always been all about hierarchy; that is precisely what distinguishes it from other Christian denominations. The authoritarian abuses and corruption of the Catholic hierarchy have always existed; they sparked the Protestant Reformation almost 500 years ago. In that backlash, Reformers rejected the Papacy and democratized Christianity by doing away with the notion that priests were somehow closer to God than the people they served. Because of them, Freitas could easily reject the Church’s hierarchy and still be a practicing Christian; Catholicism is far from the only game in town.
I’ve always believed that if you belong to one of the Abrahamic religions, you automatically enter into a (sometimes dicey) bargain with the Patriarchy. Christianity, Judaism and Islam are patriarchial and—to varying degrees—authoritarian religions, with all the potential for disaster you’d expect. But the good news is that you can comparison-shop. The Jewish denomination I belong to is fully egalitarian and performs gay marriages. My sister’s Methodist congregation in Chicago has a giant banner outside their church proclaiming “Jesus Was Radically Inclusive.” Freitas, however, is reluctant to comparison-shop, and feels invested in the Church despite her experiences. I have several devoutly Catholic friends who are similarly entrenched, even as they abhor the institutional Church.
The “On Faith” commenters did not treat Freitas kindly. Even the less rant-y ones were sharp in their criticism. For example:
You have no influence on church policy. As long as you continue to sit in the pew and drop your money in the basket, it’s not that you don’t matter, it that you are actively condoning and enabling abusers to flourish.
What do y’all think? Does Freitas’s argument make sense to you? Does her unwillingness to quit the Church constitute some kind of Stockholm Syndrome? Or is she simply making her version of the bargain that most of us who practice organized religion make?
@emilyanne: Totally agreed again. I’m half-Scottish, and I agree that the whole sectarian dynamic means this whole dilemma plays out totally differently. I probably feel more Catholic in Scotland than anywhere else, because that’s where I am reminded of the Catholic aspects of my identity (or really more of the fact that I am *not* Protestant) the most. And even though I don’t like sectarianism in sport or in any walk of life, I could never, ever support Rangers, so…
@JD: Please accept my sincere sympathy on the loss of your brother. I’m glad he was able to find comfort at the end of his life.
@Feminizzle: BeckyS is right and so are you. When Church dignitaries get the Jews involved in the current abuse investigation, we all have a problem.
I understand how this thread must be painful to you. Things have definitely come to the boiling point these days. But without listing the problems the Church is having, the discussion would be taking place without the proper context.
It’s the particular structure and size of the Church, as I understand it, that makes it vulnerable to the charges of institutional indifference and covering up. For instance, there’s not a Pope or a hierarchy of Judaism as a whole. If we don’t like the branch we’re in, we can go elsewhere or start our own, and no one can tell us we can’t or punish us. (Well, they can try, but we don’t care.) We have discussed some very ugly behavior by Jews against Jews on this site, and I hope we continue to do so when necessary. But those discussions were in no way anti-Semitic.
I think that Christian churches have two natures because Jesus is shown in the Bible as having two natures. There is one Jesus who loved the poor and the sick and provides a role model for liberal Christians, but there is another Jesus who was angry and authoritarian, who blinded centurions, threw money changers out of the temple, and who made it very clear that he thought a lot of people were going to suffer in Hell.
So, while a lot of Christians identify with good Jesus and work to make the world a better place, some Christians and a lot of the people who are in charge of Christian churches identify strongly with angry Jesus.
The Catholic Church is following a path which has worked for them for a long time, telling people who disagree with them to go to Hell. If the pressure remains I’m sure they will begin to do literally what they are now doing figuratively. This strategy endears them to the angry Jesus crowd, but leaves the egalitarian Jesus followers feeling isolated and questioning the religion in its entirety.
@bellacoker Do you think this points to a problem in the doctrines of Jesus? imho yes.
@bellacoker & rodriguez: I think that’s a very good point, and it’s relevant not just to Jesus but to the Abrahamic vision of God. The scriptures and traditions of all three Abrahamic religions portray God as loving, compassionate, benevolent, but also jealous, angry and ass-whupping. It creates some tough theological questions, that’s for sure, and not just in Christianity, but in Judaism and Islam as well.
Of course, any discussion of doctrine and scriptural interpretation requires a huge caveat: the Scriptures as we know them have multiple authors and have been redacted both by committee and by various religious authorities for millenia. So the problems are not only just in the text, but in the way the text has been worked and re-worked.
@rodriguez: I feel incredibly unqualified to say whether or not it is a problem in Jesus’ doctrine; I know that it took me a long to time to understand why Christians are often shitty to each other and to other people, and that this is the best explanation I have been able to tease out which recognizes that they feel their actions are consistent with their stated beliefs. I think that taking a critical look at Jesus and realizing that in some ways he is not the best example of how to live in every situation for all time would be helpful, but that it is probably unlikely.
@BeckySharper: Absolutely. In my own life, I reconcile the two by envisioning God as a parent who yells when their child toddles toward the street or reaches for a hot stove. The universe surely looks different when viewed completely.
A problem arises here when people channel God and decide that they are in possession of special knowledge which allows them to stand in for their angry, jealous and ass-whupping God. Because really God can be whatever it is and it’s not going to make much of a difference, but even a few hundred people possessing a certain, unshakable belief that they know what God wants is almost always trouble.
@Bellacoker, interesting points and I agree largely BUT what I find interesting is that in my childhood growing up with a largely unauthoriatarian, left-leaning and liberal English Catholic church the whole hell fire and brimstone, you’re going to burn if you don’t agree with us theology belonged to the Presbyterian church rather than the church I was raised in.
Which is not to excuse the Catholic Church’s own pathologies, my only point is that churches are interpreted differently throughout the world and each person’s experience is different and I found that fascinating.
@emilyanne:
Oh, absolutely. England’s religious history pretty much proscribes authoritarian religion, I would think.
@bellacoker: sounds like Philip Pullman’s newest book would be right up your street: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/apr/04/scoundrel-christ-pullman-review
I apologize for saying the site seems biased against Catholicism; I wrote that while feeling a bit emotional yesterday. It’s more that I feel that when people want to talk about religions with problems, Catholicism and Islam are the first picks. However, I sometimes forget that they are two of the most popular religions worldwide, which is what makes them more frequently discussed. As to Becky’s question as to why I feel that way, I don’t have time at this moment to look back and find the comments/threads that made me feel that way. I do recall feeling that the site seems to say, “nuns- yeah!” and “priests- yuck!” Not exactly that, of course, but the only talk about priests seems to be when they are molesting and covering up crimes. I do love reading about the postitive influences that nuns have had in the world and the lives of people on this site, and I realize that as a feminist site, of course the focus would be on the women of religion. So maybe I’m making something out of nothing.
I have to add, though, that after reading J.D. Regent’s comment, I am impressed. She managed to put into words my thoughts and emotions pertaining to Catholicism and state why it’s so hard to seperate/how the church can be so spectacular in spite of it’s rotten-ness.
In other words, sorry again for the comment yesterday. I just find myself getting defensive because when people meet a practising Catholic/talk at all about it, they often start in about how awful the Pope has been acting, the nasty anti-choicers, and all the child abuse. And while I agree that it’s horrible and no amount of apologizing will ever make up for the lives that have been ruined, those aspects of the church have nothing to do with my practice and experience of the church.
@Feminizzle: ‘s okay. I realize it’s a sensitive topic. I think you’re right about the fact that because it’s a feminist site, we’re going to talk more about women in religion, and we’re going to be critical of religious institutions and practices that are openly misogynist (and racist and corrupt, etc).
After I read your comment, I went back and looking at my posts, I have written more negatively about the misogyny of Orthodox Judaism than any other religion. As a progressive Jewish feminist, it’s a topic close to my heart and experience. But I’ve also written about misogyny in Islam, and certainly snarked plenty on Southern Baptist and Methodist culture (which I was immersed in because my mother’s family is Methodist and I grew up in Virginia). I’m the only writer on this site who is actively religious, but none of us is inclined to bash or belittle people’s religious beliefs. But we do think it’s valuable to speak up when those beliefs or institutions are harmful to others–particularly women.
@Feminizzle:
There is a hierarchy of religions within feminism.
At the top, are the made-to-order feminist religions like Wicca. In theory, no feminist can criticize these religions because they are constructed (or re-constructed) around feminist ideals. In practice, these religions have few followers and almost never come up in general feminist discussions.
Slightly below is Judaism. Judaism is a religion, a culture, an ethnic group, and an oppressed minority. This convergence makes them almost impossible for feminists to criticize. Only Jewish feminists may criticize Judaism, and only in limited ways.
(Among feminists and the political left, the nation of Israel and its politics are considered separate from Judaism and may be criticized.)
Below Judaism are the mostly non-white religions, such as Hinduism and Buddhism. Generally only feminists from these religions may criticize them.
Below the other non-white religions is Islam. Due to recent history, any feminist can criticize Islam, provided she makes it clear she is referring to “extremists” or “fundamentalists”.
Catholicism has a split position. The majority of Catholics worldwide are non-white, and may only be criticized by Catholic feminists of the same ethnicity. American and European Catholics, on the other hand, can be criticized by any feminist. This includes the Pope and the Vatican leadership.
Below Catholics are the white protestant christian denominations. Any feminist may criticize them.
At the very bottom are the white southern Christians – Baptists, Pentecostals, etc. These are the people who picket abortion clinics. Feminists are free to say almost anything about these groups and their members.
Feminists who break these rules will often be told to “check your privilege”. The pattern of privilege-checking is informative. You will see a lot of it in discussions involving Judaism or Hinduism, very little in threads about Catholicism, and almost none in any discussion of southern Christianity.
This convergence makes [Judaism] almost impossible for feminists to criticize. Only Jewish feminists may criticize Judaism, and only in limited ways.
I gotta say, that hasn’t been my experience. But I don’t think you have to be Jewish to make legitimate critiques of certain misogynist aspects of traditional Judaism. They are too obvious to be ignored.
Completely second your point about Israel being fair game for criticism, though. That distinction is generally unpopular in the Jewish community, but I wholeheartedly support it. Not all criticism of Israel, its government and policies is necessarily anti-Semitic (although a lot of it is, so you have to keep a sharp eye on it).
awesome becky
With posts like this and knowing about progressives’ daily struggle with their individual organized religion, I must say I’m quite happy to have grown up under the Buddhist tradition. True, The notion of ritual, culture, tradition and history is strong within any particular Buddhist tradition, but it is very easy to separate the spiritual religion our of the organized religion.
IM(Undereducated)O true Buddhism, as in the Buddhism created by Buddha when he reached enlightenment was a practice and not an organized religion; he did not want any structure, scriptures or dogmas: just truth, some guidelines and practice practice practice; so when I’m fed up with the Patriarchal Thai Buddhist hierarchy, I can just practice on my own or with my friends and never ever worry about the monks and their cohort.
@metatroll: Wait, what?
Anyone *can* criticize anything. Whether every spiritual movement needs or deserves to be criticized on feminist grounds is another question. I must admit that I’ve never seen your taxonomy in practice by anyone.
I think we also have to distinguish between doctrine and practice. Criticizing a religion’s doctrine without a thorough knowledge of its belief system as a whole can be offensive. But criticizing the religion’s behavior, which can and often does have wider ramifications, is a different story. If Catholicism wants to establish a male-dominated doctrine and internal hierarchy and Catholic women are okay with that, it’s none of my business. But if Catholics then decide that they can control women and prevent them from getting needed health care, for instance, then I feel like it’s fair game for everyone to comment on it.
A couple of people have brought up the idea that those of us who are criticizing European and American people who stay in the Church would not criticize people of color from developing nations (metatroll, you seem to have conflated nationality and race in your statement — I’m trying to pin down where exactly you’re identifying this dynamic). I’d like to address that. Personally, I would not criticize people in developing nations for loyalty to the Church, so in this sense those of you who are making this criticism are correct. However, I think there are some important distinctions to be made here. If a Catholic school is the only school within 50 miles of your house and you choose to send your children there, that’s a different choice than deciding on the local Catholic school over the local public school or over secular private schools. If you’ve grown up in a place where a Catholic priest is literally the only authority on the outside world and is the most knowledgeable person in the community, obviously rejecting the Church would mean something different than it does in most of America, where everyone with an internet connection can be an authority on anything.
It’s possible to recognize that a choice is problematic even as one recognizes that sometimes, a problematic choice is the only choice available. In fact, that is true much of the time. I think that we can talk about making responsible and educated choices while recognizing that sometimes the resources aren’t available to enable those choices to be made. To properly evaluate the ethics of someone’s actions, it is necessary to understand what other choices they could have made. It seems to me to be the case that in the developed world, people generally have more viable choices regarding the Church, and this is why I hold citizens of developed nations to a higher standard regarding their relationships with the Church.
Sorry for double posting a continuation, but I didn’t finish reading the older response and have gotten more out of the thread now.
I am absolutely bewildered by people whose lives and essence of being are so intertwined with one particular religion. Having grown up with an Athiest father (who practices traditional Chinese Animism) and a mother who was a non practicing Thai Buddhist while attending a private Italian Catholic school in Thailand, I was extremely confused about my religious identity but I was also able to take the good part of all of them and do my little adolescent mishmash.
Definitely, I felt lonely to not truely belong to any larger spiritual, but I had Buddha, Saint Dominic (the school’s patron saint, Saint Don Bosco (his teacher) and god by my side.
As I grew up, that spiritual loneliness persisted as I went through a nonpracticing Wiccan Agnostic phase, until this moment where I consider myself an Agnostic practicing Buddhist with no denomination.
I think the question is so much simpler when it comes to Buddhism because it does not in anyway define one’s relationship with “god(s)”, though it might help shine a light on the true nature of god but that’s definitely not its stated purpose.
As to community, yes I do feel that pang of spiritual loneliness or Nihilism sometimes, but I have a loving political & personal community which can often reach a level of spirituality I’ve never felt with the churches and the temples; I no longer see organized religion as significant to human life, except for the art it produces.
@baraqiel: Well-put. To say that Catholics–of whatever race or nationality–in the developing world have the same options as Western, urbanized Catholics is to fundamentally ignore vast gap in situation/choice/privilege that exists between ALL PEOPLE in the developing world and the industrialized world, regardless of religion.
@mischiefmanager:
Anyone *can* criticize anything.
If that’s true anywhere, it’s true on the internet.
All major religions are patriarchal and sexist to some degree and open to feminist criticism, at least in theory. In actual discussions, different religions receive different amounts and types of criticism. My comment reflects these patterns as I have seen them. Certainly, no one is consciously following any taxonomy.
But if Catholics then decide that they can control women and prevent them from getting needed health care, for instance, then I feel like it’s fair game for everyone to comment on it.
You probably won’t get many negative responses in any feminist forum by criticizing the Vatican’s global policies on reproductive rights. If instead you complained about marriage practices in rural India, you might be told to “check your privilege”, even if you complained on health grounds.
@baraqiel:
metatroll, you seem to have conflated nationality and race in your statement
Yes, my categories are vague. Discussions of religion in the West often conflate nationality, race, culture, and sect. Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism are often addressed monolithically. Discussions of Catholics in America tend to ignore the large number of non-white and non-English-speaking Catholics.
…sometimes, a problematic choice is the only choice available.
I don’t think the reluctance to criticize certain religions is just about options and circumstances. I think it relates to deeper issues within feminism such as race and privilege.
@metatroll – Well, now I’m a little confused. For example, you in your comment conflated race and nationality and yet doing so seems to be one of your criticisms of others (“Discussions of Catholics in America tend to ignore the large number of non-white and non-English-speaking Catholics.”). I explained to you my personal reasoning regarding why I use different standards for people in different situations and your response was to say that you “don’t think the reluctance to criticize certain religions is just about options and circumstances.” Well…personally I don’t feel any reluctance to criticize any given religion, but I just said exactly why I’m reluctant to criticize certain religious people.
Moreover, I’ve actually seen a fair number of articles talking about marriage practices in rural India, especially regarding to how they relate to hygiene standards. And in that example, you seem to be saying that being told to “check your privilege” would be a bad or invalid response whereas you end your comment with an assertion that feminists are reluctant to criticize “certain religions” due to privilege. So, at this point I’m not really sure what your complaint is.
@metatroll: No, I’d be perfectly ready to criticize marriage practices in rural India, to the extent that they have an impact on the society. It’s no different than criticizing female genital mutilation. I’m a lot less concerned with what people believe than with what they do. I’m quite willing to bear the cry of “privilege” when what I’m saying attacks a practice that hurts women. Wrong is wrong, whether the Chief Rabbi (or both of them), the Pope or a tribal leader does it.
@Endora:
Thanks, I really enjoyed The Golden Compass, etc. I will happily put that one on my list.