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Well, that's an easy way to cop out. Blame the dead Pope.
Christopher Hitchens September 14, 2010 – 8:40 am
Reading Diarmaid MacCulloch’s extraordinary and limpid new work Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years (a history informed by a general, if Anglican, sympathy for its subject), I came across the following passage from Cardinal John Henry Newman’s classic statement of belief, his Apologia Pro Vita Sua:
“The Catholic Church holds it better for the Sun and Moon to drop from Heaven, for the earth to fail, and for all the many millions on it to die from starvation in extremest agony … than that one soul, I will not say, should be lost, but should commit one single venial sin, should tell one wilful untruth, or should steal one poor farthing without excuse.”
In a few days, Joseph Ratzinger will make one of the most portentous voyages of his papacy, landing in Britain to announce the beatification of the author of those remarkable words. I am not writing about Catholic dogma today, and in any case do not have the space to discuss the hysterical, totalitarian fanaticism of Newman’s statement, coming as it does from a learned man celebrated for his relative “moderation.” I thought I would simply ask how the church would emerge if anything remotely like Newman’s criterion were to be applied to it.
As we have recently been forcibly reminded, the Roman Catholic Church holds it better for the cries of raped and violated children to be ignored, and for the excuses and alibis of their rapists and torturers indulged, and for a host of dirty and wilful untruths to be manufactured wholesale, and for the funds raised ostensibly for the poor to be paid out in hush money and shameful bribery, rather than that one tiny indignity or inconvenience be visited on the robed majesty of a man-made church or any limit set to its self-proclaimed right to be judge in its own cause.
Earlier this year, as Roman Catholic authorities from Ireland to Germany to Australia to Belgium to the United States were being confronted with the fallout of decades of sexual assault and subsequent denial, I asked a simple question in print. Why was this not considered a matter for the police and the courts? Why were we asking the Church to “put its own house in order,” an expression that was the exact definition of the problem to begin with?
Why had almost no offending priest or bishop faced justice, and even then usually after a long period of protection from the church’s own “courts”? I followed this up with a telephone call to Geoffrey Robertson, a British barrister with a second-to-none record in international human-rights cases.
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