Asymmetry
By now you’ve probably heard of the Rev. Michael Pfleger.
The Chicago Reader profiled him back in 1989. According to the Reader, Pfleger was locking horns with Church leadership when he was still in the seminary. As a recovering Catholic, I can’t help but appreciate this thorn in the side of the episcopacy; I doubly appreciate the Rev. Pfleger for his conviction and authenticity. The man lives what he preaches. Whatever else he is, he’s not a hypocrite. That passion means he doesn’t always tow the party line, and when one of his vocal denunciations launched him into the national spotlight, Church officials moved swiftly to discipline him.
The episode has left me even more embittered about Holy Mother Church. One priest denounces a presidential candidate in a homily, in however poor taste, and is immediately suspended. Contrast this with the still unknown numbers of priests who were quietly reassigned after being accused of sexual abuse. How could anyone NOT be angry? What kind of ruthlessness makes such an attitude, such actions, possible? If only someone had had the presence of mind to videotape an instance of child rape — ! This hypocrisy fuels my anger at the Catholic Church. I want to march up to Cardinal George and say, “Really? It’s so nice to know that you take your pastoral responsibilities seriously and that you have your priorities in order. As long as Mother Church looks good in public, who cares what she does to her children behind closed doors?”
This is why I left. To see a priestly class pay lip service to social justice while wheedling funds from parishioners who barely make ends meet, to see them condone ghastly crimes while denouncing comparatively minor infractions, to see the Vatican and all the lust for power and money and pleasure it represents — it was too much. And commingled with the revulsion was the (of course) the guilt, the sense that my baptism implicated me in a legacy of rapacious greed and heinous crimes. I had to leave, but I will never be out.
But more on that later.
Freakish weather
Well, the Farmer’s Almanac totally called it.
April 2008Avg. Temperature: 49° (2° above avg.) Apr. 10-18: T-storms, warm, then cool Apr. 19-22: Sunny, seasonable Apr. 23-26: Rain to snow,then sunny, cool Apr. 27-30: T-storms, warm |
May 2008Avg. Temperature: 58° (avg.) May. 7-10: Sunny, seasonable May. 11-14: Showers, seasonable May. 15-20: Showers, then sunny, cool May. 21-25: Showers, seasonable May. 26-31: Scattered t-storms, very warm |
In case I hadn’t mentioned it before, although I like to think of my exile as metaphysical rootlessness and metaphorical dislocation, it is geographically in Chicago, a city for whom “freakish” could serve as a year-round epithet for Lake Michigan’s erratic microclimate, and where a weekend at the end of April spent putting away your winter things inevitably leads into another bout of gusting winds, bone-chilling rain, and near-freezing temperatures.
I would just like a little more spring — brisk air, vivid, vibrant colors, and the slow easy segue into warmth. Spring is Persphone’s season, the time when she returns from the underworld and is reunited with her mother, sunlight, fresh air, and flowers. It is strangely, sadly fitting that my exile should be in a city that doesn’t really get much springtime.
