A good opinion piece. This is one of the main reasons why Catholic Churches in Europe & North America are sitting empty, while other religions are thriving. Although, there are some different reasons for other religions increasing their numbers, the main reason is the community support, which in itself is done through the leadership.
Most psychologists agree that humans have an innate desire to follow a supreme being. And in following that, they look towards the supporters & leaders of that religion. Most do it through an organized religion but some also do it on their own. I'm not judging here, who is right or wrong.
But when leaders themselves are not principled, their actions don't follow what they preach. People are not stupid enough to not see that. When they see their religious leaders not doing what they preach, they start to lose their own faith, which, in turn, adversely affects the perception of the whole religion.
This is also happening in other religions, albeit more slowly than the Catholic Church. Money is the new religion, which requires no rules & restrictions. No morals or ethics are required in this new "religion". Religious leaders are losing their principles (assuming they had principles in the first place) & people losing interests in their religion & faith.
Seeing the corruption of their "childhood" religions, some people start to look elsewhere & convert. However, that's a very involved & soul-searching process, & not everyone wants to mentally tire themselves in finding out the meaning of life. Sometimes, those people who convert start to see the corruption of their newfound faith, & then they move again or they lose interest in organized religion at all.
At the end of the day, religious leaders need to be principled & do what they say. If they believe that they can't uphold the principles & values of the religion they are preaching, then they should resign themselves from their posts, so they don't spread their own corruption into the community. Leadership is a very responsible post; be it of any organization, secular or religious. Leaders need to keep in mind that the eyes of the whole community are on them. If they slip up, then it will adversely affect the whole community.
A strong sense of community is very much in demand in today's world, & people will flock to that organized religion which offers them that sense of community, the most. They may even join a cult just for that community feel. So, religious leaders have to correct their compass & be steadfast on it, because, if they lose their compass, the whole community starts to go astray.
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I’ve had bad luck with my priests.
The first one was Father Albert, a warm, charismatic & eloquent man who figures prominently in my childhood memories. He was almost a member of our family. But then one day he disappeared without explanation.
Father Albert was replaced by a young, bearded, barrel-chested priest who played bass guitar. I once saw him throw a football 60 yards. Then he also departed in a hurry. We heard later he’d been sleeping with a woman in his band.
In my twenties, my priest was earnest & awkward, with an off-kilter wit. I didn’t get to know him very well before he, too, fell in love with a woman in the parish, someone who he had been counseling. The Church sent him away quickly.
Father Joe, my last priest, was a friendly man who disarmed everyone with his maritime accent & humorous sermons. As far as I know, he never started a romantic relationship with anyone. Instead, he went to jail for stealing several hundred thousand dollars from the parishioners.
You would think with spiritual mentors like that I would walk away. I did, for a few years after college. It wasn’t a conscious decision of humanist rebellion. I was simply busy. Sundays came & went, & there were far too many things to distract me.
In my thirties I moved to a new city & found a tall stone church down the street. The nave was cool in the summer heat, & colourfully lit by soaring stained-glass windows. The oak pews were dark with age & worn smooth by generations of use. I felt at home, & began to attend mass again, albeit irregularly.
But I’m not a natural joiner & always sat at the very back. I was raised a Catholic, attended Catholic schools, & even have priests in the extended family. But I am only comfortable attending mass if I am near the door, to reassure myself I am merely stopping in, & can leave at any time. And I have. Not long ago a guest priest began to explain how families were being torn apart by the professional aspirations of women. I gathered up my 2 daughters & we went for ice cream.
But my problems with Catholicism go well beyond the occasional fatuous sermon. The Church’s treatment of women remains medieval. Its discrimination against gays & lesbians would be considered criminal were it any type of secular organization. And even though 39 million have died from HIV/AIDS, Rome still fights to restrict access to condoms. If the Pope had given each of those people Last Rites, one after the other day & night, it would have taken him over 30 years.
I also have struggled hard with my faith itself. As a child I listened to the Book of Genesis with a skeptical ear. Growing older, I struggled with the idea that even the most virtuous non-believers (like my father) would go to hell. Later I tried & failed to reconcile the concept of free will with God’s will. I have never understood why the Supreme Being, ruling over the entire universe, would smite me unless I flattered him with rote prayers. And the few times I have found myself in extremis, it wasn’t Christ who came to mind; it was thoughts of my parents, or in later years my children.
I am technically a heretic but I still call myself a Catholic. My ethical compass, wavering though it may be, is clearly Augustinian. I still go to mass. I still sit in the back. I close my eyes & listen to the hymns & feel the sun on my face as it filters through the great windows. My church, though, is steadily emptying. Obviously, Father Joe’s arrest cleared out many of the pews. But across the country, attendance has declined while atheism has risen. Only one of my friends attends a weekly service with any regularity. I go less & less, myself. But I still go.
For me, church is not about my faith; it is about my community. I never linger for the bake sales & I can’t tell you the name of the new priest (my history suggests he won’t be around very long anyways). I don’t even know any of the other parishioners by name. But I recognize most of their faces, & from my vantage point in the last pew all of their backs. And that is a profound comfort.
My life is lived by email & phone call. My friends are dispersed, my family spread far & wide. My relationships are mostly virtual, kept alive by text messages & Christmas cards. Like most of us, I am connected to thousands, but honestly know only a few. Even though we never speak, the sight of the familiar strangers in church gives me a physical sense of community, of tangible belonging.
For millennia, humans were born, lived & died within the same few miles. They did not know very many people, but they knew them well. Their sense of identity was less about who they were than where they belonged. Then, in the span of a few generations, this all changed. We began to travel, to disburse, to bond with TV characters, to create online networks, to disappear into our inboxes. At the moment when we have never been more isolated & more in need of a real community, the Church has failed to provide it. It is perhaps one of the great ironies of our age. Archaic doctrine. Repressive rules. Institutionalized bigotry. Abuse scandals. Unapologetic bishops. It was almost as though Rome was trying to alienate us.
After drafting this column, I decided to find out what happened to Father Albert, the smiling man who gave me my first communion & then vanished. A couple of calls informed me that he’s gravely ill, apparently, in an old age home. And, while it took 20 years, he is now facing charges for sexual assault & gross indecency. They are not sure if he will live to see his trial date later this year.
Most psychologists agree that humans have an innate desire to follow a supreme being. And in following that, they look towards the supporters & leaders of that religion. Most do it through an organized religion but some also do it on their own. I'm not judging here, who is right or wrong.
But when leaders themselves are not principled, their actions don't follow what they preach. People are not stupid enough to not see that. When they see their religious leaders not doing what they preach, they start to lose their own faith, which, in turn, adversely affects the perception of the whole religion.
This is also happening in other religions, albeit more slowly than the Catholic Church. Money is the new religion, which requires no rules & restrictions. No morals or ethics are required in this new "religion". Religious leaders are losing their principles (assuming they had principles in the first place) & people losing interests in their religion & faith.
Seeing the corruption of their "childhood" religions, some people start to look elsewhere & convert. However, that's a very involved & soul-searching process, & not everyone wants to mentally tire themselves in finding out the meaning of life. Sometimes, those people who convert start to see the corruption of their newfound faith, & then they move again or they lose interest in organized religion at all.
At the end of the day, religious leaders need to be principled & do what they say. If they believe that they can't uphold the principles & values of the religion they are preaching, then they should resign themselves from their posts, so they don't spread their own corruption into the community. Leadership is a very responsible post; be it of any organization, secular or religious. Leaders need to keep in mind that the eyes of the whole community are on them. If they slip up, then it will adversely affect the whole community.
A strong sense of community is very much in demand in today's world, & people will flock to that organized religion which offers them that sense of community, the most. They may even join a cult just for that community feel. So, religious leaders have to correct their compass & be steadfast on it, because, if they lose their compass, the whole community starts to go astray.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ve had bad luck with my priests.
The first one was Father Albert, a warm, charismatic & eloquent man who figures prominently in my childhood memories. He was almost a member of our family. But then one day he disappeared without explanation.
Father Albert was replaced by a young, bearded, barrel-chested priest who played bass guitar. I once saw him throw a football 60 yards. Then he also departed in a hurry. We heard later he’d been sleeping with a woman in his band.
In my twenties, my priest was earnest & awkward, with an off-kilter wit. I didn’t get to know him very well before he, too, fell in love with a woman in the parish, someone who he had been counseling. The Church sent him away quickly.
Father Joe, my last priest, was a friendly man who disarmed everyone with his maritime accent & humorous sermons. As far as I know, he never started a romantic relationship with anyone. Instead, he went to jail for stealing several hundred thousand dollars from the parishioners.
You would think with spiritual mentors like that I would walk away. I did, for a few years after college. It wasn’t a conscious decision of humanist rebellion. I was simply busy. Sundays came & went, & there were far too many things to distract me.
In my thirties I moved to a new city & found a tall stone church down the street. The nave was cool in the summer heat, & colourfully lit by soaring stained-glass windows. The oak pews were dark with age & worn smooth by generations of use. I felt at home, & began to attend mass again, albeit irregularly.
But I’m not a natural joiner & always sat at the very back. I was raised a Catholic, attended Catholic schools, & even have priests in the extended family. But I am only comfortable attending mass if I am near the door, to reassure myself I am merely stopping in, & can leave at any time. And I have. Not long ago a guest priest began to explain how families were being torn apart by the professional aspirations of women. I gathered up my 2 daughters & we went for ice cream.
But my problems with Catholicism go well beyond the occasional fatuous sermon. The Church’s treatment of women remains medieval. Its discrimination against gays & lesbians would be considered criminal were it any type of secular organization. And even though 39 million have died from HIV/AIDS, Rome still fights to restrict access to condoms. If the Pope had given each of those people Last Rites, one after the other day & night, it would have taken him over 30 years.
I also have struggled hard with my faith itself. As a child I listened to the Book of Genesis with a skeptical ear. Growing older, I struggled with the idea that even the most virtuous non-believers (like my father) would go to hell. Later I tried & failed to reconcile the concept of free will with God’s will. I have never understood why the Supreme Being, ruling over the entire universe, would smite me unless I flattered him with rote prayers. And the few times I have found myself in extremis, it wasn’t Christ who came to mind; it was thoughts of my parents, or in later years my children.
I am technically a heretic but I still call myself a Catholic. My ethical compass, wavering though it may be, is clearly Augustinian. I still go to mass. I still sit in the back. I close my eyes & listen to the hymns & feel the sun on my face as it filters through the great windows. My church, though, is steadily emptying. Obviously, Father Joe’s arrest cleared out many of the pews. But across the country, attendance has declined while atheism has risen. Only one of my friends attends a weekly service with any regularity. I go less & less, myself. But I still go.
For me, church is not about my faith; it is about my community. I never linger for the bake sales & I can’t tell you the name of the new priest (my history suggests he won’t be around very long anyways). I don’t even know any of the other parishioners by name. But I recognize most of their faces, & from my vantage point in the last pew all of their backs. And that is a profound comfort.
My life is lived by email & phone call. My friends are dispersed, my family spread far & wide. My relationships are mostly virtual, kept alive by text messages & Christmas cards. Like most of us, I am connected to thousands, but honestly know only a few. Even though we never speak, the sight of the familiar strangers in church gives me a physical sense of community, of tangible belonging.
For millennia, humans were born, lived & died within the same few miles. They did not know very many people, but they knew them well. Their sense of identity was less about who they were than where they belonged. Then, in the span of a few generations, this all changed. We began to travel, to disburse, to bond with TV characters, to create online networks, to disappear into our inboxes. At the moment when we have never been more isolated & more in need of a real community, the Church has failed to provide it. It is perhaps one of the great ironies of our age. Archaic doctrine. Repressive rules. Institutionalized bigotry. Abuse scandals. Unapologetic bishops. It was almost as though Rome was trying to alienate us.
After drafting this column, I decided to find out what happened to Father Albert, the smiling man who gave me my first communion & then vanished. A couple of calls informed me that he’s gravely ill, apparently, in an old age home. And, while it took 20 years, he is now facing charges for sexual assault & gross indecency. They are not sure if he will live to see his trial date later this year.
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