Step Down Ratzinger

More needs to be said about the current scandals attending the Catholic Church. But saying more is difficult when the lasting effect of such moral depravity is to be slackjawed and shocked. Keeping close to developments is impossible, since the scandals are widening relentlessly across Europe, and sources are turning out information at an alarming pace.

Most recently, the pope has issued an apology to Irish victims of clergy-enforced sexual abuse. The contents of the letter certainly do make note of the fact that abuse has happened, and that it is terrible that such a reality exists. Says Ratzinger (I now refuse to call him by his self-decided honorific name):

Like yourselves, I have been deeply disturbed by the information which has come to light regarding the abuse of children and vulnerable young people by members of the Church in Ireland, particularly by priests and religious.

I would be remiss to suggest that Ratzinger is not sincere in his lamentations but for one peculiar quibble: he is directly reponsible for the reason why the disturbing information regarding child-rape is only now coming to light.

Within the matrix of Catholicism, priests and bishops who make grave offenses against the public are to be tried infront of a church tribunal. That tribunal is sworn to the strictest secrecy upon threat of excommunication if any of the tribunal leaks information regarding offending clergy (see, Crimen Sollicitationis).

As, assuredly, what must be mainly taken care of and complied with in handling these trials is that they be managed with maximum confidentiality and after the verdict is declared and put into effect never be mentioned again (20 February 1867 Instruction of the Holy Office, 14), each and every person, who in any way belongs to the tribunal or is given knowledge of the matter because of their office, is obliged to keep inviolate the strictest secrecy (what is commonly called "the secrecy of the Holy Office") in all things and with all persons, under pain of automatic (latae sententiae) excommunication...

Crimen Sollicitationis received backing by Ratzinger in 2001, and was, in fact, enforced by Ratzinger for 20 years prior to his election to pope in 2005. Confidentiality itself is not bad conduct, but when it is used as a control mechanism -- as Ratzinger, in fact, has used it -- to suppress the goings-on of serial abusers, to cover-up mortal crimes, and divert the attention of the public away from alleged abusers, one has to call into question the actual purpose of that confidentiality.

Says Father Tom Doyle, Canon Lawyer, in a BBC Documenary, Sex Crimes and the Vatican,

Crimen sollicitationis is indicative of a world-wide policy of absolute secrecy and control of all cases of sexual abuse by the clergy. But what you really have here is an explicit written policy to cover up cases of child sexual abuse by the clergy, to punish those who would call attention to these crimes by churchmen. You've got a written policy that says the Vatican will control these situations, and you also have, I think, clear written evidence of the fact that all they're concerned about is containing and controlling the problem. Nowhere in any of these documents does it say anything about helping the victims. The only thing it does is say that they can impose fear on the victims, and punish the victims, for discussing or disclosing what had happened to them.

Indeed, Ratzinger has consciously orchestrated the scandal he is now the centerpiece of: by enforcing crimen sollicitationis, priests and bishops have stood with toothy grins in front of a 'holy' tribunal and, at worst, come away defrocked, but more likely scuttled-off to another parish with full access to children (future victims).

Given Ratzinger's 'disturbance' that the crimes he fought so desperately to keep secret are now in the public eye, I wholeheartedly reject his milquetoast apology, and call on him to step down. Nevermind the juridical reign of the Roman bishop, the in-office-'till-death mentality; have the moral fortitude to resign your office and be done with your hypocritical charade. Prove you have some quality left in you by removing yourself from 'supreme authority' over the church, and standing trial in a secular court for your brazen obstructions of justice, and your intentional use of truth-suppression and diversionary tactics.

Christopher Hitchens, reporting on this issue once again in his recent article Tear Down That Wall, states,

Pope Benedict's pathetic and euphemistic letter to his "flock" in Ireland doesn't even propose that such people should lose their positions in the church. And this cowardly guardedness on his part is for a good and sufficient reason: If there was to be a serious criminal investigation, it would have to depose the pope himself.

So while the fact remains that all of this abuse has happened, an equally disturbing fact has surfaced: the "vicar of Christ on earth", the pope himself has led a charge into purposeful lying, deceit, and evasion. If we were to remove the religious motif from this scandal just for the purpose of speculation, what do we think would be the result of these abuses and cover-ups in the real world? Trials would be held, people would be jailed, recompense (if that is even possible given the nature of the crime) would be levied, and in some places the criminals might even be executed.

But because the criminals are dyed-in-the-wool clergy, they can somehow claim religious immunity and be insulated from the world courts. This alone is criminal, and should be loudly protested. The pope's letter is a disgrace. I don't think I'm alone in suggesting that the only way any of this can get better is if the pope relieves himself of his office, and the entire system of Catholicism itself gasps its last breath.

The Never Erring Story

"The Catholic Church has never erred." At least, that's what I've had thrown at me a number of times in informal debates with Catholic friends. Who am I to argue? I've erred quite a lot, so I'm really not qualified to say otherwise. And arguing as a peccable entity against an impeccable agent of God would bring about the irony that I might just be erring to be contrarian in the face of such a grand claim.

So what am I dealing with when I have a zinger like "the Catholic Church has never erred" tossed out at me? Apparently, I'm dealing with the doctrine of impeccability. Not to be confused with the doctrine of infallibility. You see, impeccability is understood quite easily as the 'absence of sin' -- something only God, Jesus and Mary could appreciate. The rest of us are out of the runnings: we don't qualify for the sinless status. Not unless we become Pelagians, of course, at which point we become heretics because we believe that while we are yet alive we can be rarified in the grace of God to the point of sinlessness. That is, we can become impeccable by sheer force of performative logic and a willingness to carouse with Pelagian beliefs.

But, since the self-defining, and self-declaring Catholic Church has monopolized the market on truth and declared herself the "one true church" that "never errs", and further, has declared Pelagianism a heresy, I would be in error to take on such a view.

But I am left with a question: if Mary was given special status to be sinless while she was alive, why can't any God-fearing Pelagian work that angle? It would seem like a worthwhile occupation to make yourself sinless, wouldn't it? And if so, that would mean that there's something a little dodgy going on with the Catholic doctrine of Mary's sinlessness. I'm just saying.

Nevertheless, it would be insincere of me to leave out the Catholic Church's self-understanding on the notion of impeccability. That is, the Catholic Church believes she has never erred in matters pertaining to faith and morals; it has nothing to do with historical opinions. To quote the Wikipedia entry, "in Catholic thought, the exemption of the Roman Church from error extends only to its definitive teachings on faith and morals: not its historical judgments." In other words, those teachings that are not held to be divine revelations but are free from error and essential to proper belief.

A moment's reflection, however, piques my curiosity: if there are 'essential' teachings that are free from error, might there also be non-essential teachings that could have errors? In fact, yes, there are. Dr. Ludwig Ott puts it thusly:

"A Teaching proximate to Faith (sententia fidei proxima) is a doctrine, which is regarded by theologians generally as a truth of Revelation, but which has not yet been finally promulgated as such by the Church."

Ott's list of Catholic Certainties places teachings proximate to faith (i.e., teachings that are closest to true faith, but not causes of faith) at the bronze-medal level. These kinds of non-essential teachings are kind of like teachings-in-waiting, or tertiary certainties. In other words, the Catholic Church may or may not have some reservations about them, but do what you want with them until you're told otherwise (e.g., natural selection/evolution).

On this point then, we can be part of a church that never errs, but that leaves enough wiggle-room to let individuals err, as long as the Magisterium hasn't made any official statements of a higher degree of certainty; e.g., a de fide proclamation. Given this hierarchy of truths in an impeccable church, a necessary question arises: why the degrees of certainty? Doesn't that tacitly admit to possible errors in an error-free church? Even given the scalpel-line between 'faith and morals' and 'historical judgments', if the official teaching of the church is that it is officially free of error in faith and morals, wasn't that an historical judgment at some point in time? So how can we be certain of the official certainty of Catholic dogma?

The answer is that we can't. Which is why we can happily discard the nonsense that the Catholic Church has never erred. We can also jettison the corollary that the Catholic Church will never err. The Catholic Church is diseased with errors. For example, the Catholic Church recently rejected the long-held traditional teaching of limbo. Mind you, they don't see that as a mistake; they see it as an evolution, or progress in understanding. Logic dictates, however, that if the Catholic Church once believed the doctrine of limbo as true, and then turns around and says it's not, that there has been an error somewhere along the line. An error that, much like turning water into wine, turns truth into falsity. Whoops!

Here's another one. I'll let you be the judge of how insidiously stupid the Catholic Church has been on this issue. You tell me if you think the Catholic Church cannot err in matters of, oh, say, morals. One more, just for emphasis.

Solzhenitsyn Speaks

You listen.

“If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

An Ethical Consideration

The Anglican Bishop Harries takes a very divergent point of view on assisted suicide. Rather than striking himself to either side of the dividing line -- life is absolutely sacred vs. absolute autonomy in all choices -- he regards the prioritizing of human autonomy over all other considerations a faulty premise.

This would mean that assisted suicide is a matter of joint decision between the person requesting to be euthanized, the medical practitioners qualified to administer lethal means, and all those who care for the person requesting the mercy killing. Essentially, euthanasia, as bishop Harries views it, is an issue of interdependent choices, not individual autonomy.

What do you think?

Am I A Moral Relativist?

I'm not sure that asking if a person is a moral relativist is really a relevant question, honestly. Unless a person is a sociopath, how is being relativist really going to make a lick of difference in the way you live? I'm willing to bet most people want the same basic needs met: food, water, shelter, and the means to make those things happen. So, since morals address actual needs and how they're met, relativism mostly applies to projected situations: what would you do if?

Exceptions might include a philosophical commitment to a certain ideal; e.g., deontology vs. utilitarianism. Or perhaps adopting a religion like Christianity, or Judaism. Even then, however, the moral systems incumbant on most of the world's philosophies and religions come down to meeting the same basic needs and how one does that; and most of them also suggest in one way or another that it is an absolute ought to consider the welfare of the people and places around you.

So, while a person may consider themselves a moral relativist, the term only aides in describing that a person may have a different philosophical commitment about how to meet essential needs (a strategy). In all practicality, however, refusing to meet those needs, regardless of philosophical/religious/a-religious commitments simply makes a person immoral, and not a relativist. Hence what is absolute is that it is incumbant on all of us to be moral; what is relative is how we go about doing that.