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April 18, 2010
A Church Mary Can Love
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF
I heard a joke
the other day about a pious soul who dies, goes to heaven, and gains an
audience with the Virgin Mary. The visitor asks Mary why, for all her
blessings, she always appears in paintings as a bit sad, a bit wistful:
Is everything O.K.?
Mary reassures her visitor: “Oh, everything’s great. No problems. It’s
just ... it’s just that we had always wanted a daughter.”
That story comes to mind as the Vatican wrestles with the consequences
of a patriarchal premodern mind-set: scandal, cover-up and the
clumsiest self-defense since Watergate. That’s what happens with old
boys’ clubs.
It
wasn’t inevitable that the Catholic Church would grow so addicted to
male domination, celibacy and rigid hierarchies. Jesus himself focused
on the needy rather than dogma, and went out of his way to engage women
and treat them with respect.
The first-century church was inclusive and democratic, even including a
proto-feminist wing and texts. The Gospel of Philip, a Gnostic text from
the third century, declares of Mary Magdalene: “She is the one the
Savior loved more than all the disciples.” Likewise, the Gospel of Mary
(from the early second century) suggests that Jesus entrusted Mary
Magdalene to instruct the disciples on his religious teachings.
St. Paul refers in Romans 16 to a first-century woman named Junia as
prominent among the early apostles, and to a woman named Phoebe who
served as a deacon. The Apostle Junia became a Christian before St. Paul
did (chauvinist translators have sometimes rendered her name masculine,
with no scholarly basis).
Yet over the ensuing centuries, the church reverted to strong
patriarchal attitudes, while also becoming increasingly uncomfortable
with sexuality. The shift may have come with the move from house
churches, where women were naturally accepted, to more public
gatherings.
The upshot is that proto-feminist texts were not included when the Bible
was compiled (and were mostly lost until modern times). Tertullian, an
early Christian leader, denounced women as “the gateway to the devil,”
while a contemporary account reports that the great Origen of Alexandria
took his piety a step further and castrated himself.
The Catholic Church still seems stuck today in that patriarchal rut. The
same faith that was so pioneering that it had Junia as a female apostle
way back in the first century can’t even have a woman as the lowliest
parish priest. Female deacons, permitted for centuries, are banned
today.
That old boys’ club in the Vatican became as self-absorbed as other old
boys’ clubs, like Lehman Brothers, with similar results. And that is the
reason the Vatican is floundering today.
But there’s more to the picture than that. In my travels around the
world, I encounter two Catholic Churches. One is the rigid all-male
Vatican hierarchy that seems out of touch when it bans condoms even
among married couples where one partner is H.I.V.-positive. To me at
least, this church — obsessed with dogma and rules and distracted from
social justice — is a modern echo of the Pharisees whom Jesus
criticized.
Yet there’s another Catholic
Church as well, one I admire intensely. This is the grass-roots Catholic
Church that does far more good in the world than it ever gets credit
for. This is the church that supports extraordinary aid organizations
like Catholic
Relief Services and Caritas,
saving lives every day, and that operates superb schools that provide
needy children an escalator out of poverty.
This is the church of the nuns and priests in Congo,
toiling in obscurity to feed and educate children. This is the church of
the Brazilian priest fighting AIDS who told me that if he were pope, he
would build a condom factory in the Vatican to save lives.
This is the church of the Maryknoll
Sisters in
Central America and the Cabrini
Sisters in
Africa. There’s a stereotype of nuns as stodgy Victorian
traditionalists. I learned otherwise while hanging on for my life in a
passenger seat as an American nun with a lead foot drove her jeep over
ruts and through a creek in Swaziland to visit AIDS orphans. After a
number of encounters like that, I’ve come to believe that the very
coolest people in the world today may be nuns.
So
when you read about the scandals, remember that the Vatican is not the
same as the Catholic Church. Ordinary lepers, prostitutes and
slum-dwellers may never see a cardinal, but they daily encounter a truly
noble Catholic Church in the form of priests, nuns and lay workers
toiling to make a difference.
It’s high time for the Vatican to take inspiration from that sublime —
even divine — side of the Catholic Church, from those church workers
whose magnificence lies not in their vestments, but in their
selflessness. They’re enough to make the Virgin Mary smile. |
source: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/18/opinion/18kristof.html?src=me |