Columns

CAN THIS CHURCH BE SAVED?

by Maura Hanrahan

Last week I sat in an old wooden pew and listened to a priest harangue a tiny congregation about the evils of hip-hop clothing. He was especially concerned about those pants teenagers are so fond of, the ones that seem like they're about to fall off. He explained that these pants represent moral decay, and the loss of community values.

     There were about 20 of us in the small rural church. Some were tourists; a few, mostly elderly ladies, were locals. The priest began his sermon by saying, "People laughed at me earlier this morning when I gave my sermon in (a community about 50 miles away)." It was not an auspicious beginning. Before long, many of us were trying in vain to stifle our giggles as the man on the altar pontificated for 30 minutes about eccentrically-dressed teenagers, throwing in the odd tie-in to Bernadette of Lourdes.

     I'm afraid I am one of those who had a difficult time behaving. It all seemed so ludicrous and surreal --especially when the priest started shouting at us. I've seen this kind of preaching in Pentecostal Churches, but it was so unexpected and out of place here.

     It reached a distressing pinnacle when the priest said, "Some say that women can expect to be pounced on when they wear those mini-skirts."

     Afterwards our group of four gathered outside the church and discussed our mixed emotions. We were angry at the priest's blame-the-victim mentality; surely Canadian society has reached a consensus that rape is a crime of power, and not caused by a woman showing a lot of leg. We also felt compassion for the priest, a man whose own native Church in Africa is --one of our group knew from experience-- much more fire and brimstone than ours. Was it fair of the Church to plunk this man into the current North American Catholic context?

     The week before, we had gone to Mass in another rural community. This time the priest was a local but he, too, was sadly out of touch with those who had gathered. He chose to lecture the congregation --about 40 people-- about abortion. As soon as he broached the topic, sighs and "tutts" rang through the building. I could almost hear people say, "Not this again!" I noted that, as usual, most of them were gray-haired. I doubted that abortion had much relevance in their lives. I suspected that they were tired of the Church's obsession with this issue, as important as it is.

     There were many other subjects the priest could have chosen. Perhaps some there were fretting about a solider son or daughter trying to stay alive in Afghanistan. Maybe they would have liked to learn more about ecology and the Christian tradition. Undoubtedly they were worried about the rapid depopulation of their part of the coast. Probably they would have liked the priest to affirm their lives, their efforts, and their goodness.

     The experience was both annoying and sad.

     This week I heard a bishop from a nearby diocese on a radio call-in show. The question was: "Why don't people go to Church anymore?" This bishop and others had just gathered to discuss this topic. I could hear the concern and hurt in the bishop's voice as he searched aloud for explanations, and I really felt for him. There were few sympathetic callers, but the bishop handled himself well and avoided the defensiveness which must have tempted him.

     I wondered if the bishops had actually asked Catholics why so few of us darken the Church door on Sundays. I know that no clergy has ever asked me how I experience Church. The only time I ever tried to talk to a priest about it was an utter failure. That was a while ago, a time when I couldn't imagine people laughing and tut-tutting aloud at priests in church. But that's what is happening now. And the Church would rather deal with the shortage of priests by employing men with disturbing attitudes than married men or competent women.

     That same week the Salvation Army in my city unveiled their new strategy. They have begun holding services in a cinema, complete with a big welcome, casual dress, and food. This initiative resulted from a non-denominational survey they conducted; they went out in the community and asked people how best to meet their spiritual needs. Their approach was bottom-up, not top-down; it was warm, not chilly or hectoring.

     I am not saying that the Catholic Church needs to take the laid-back route of the Salvation Army. For one thing, many of us are attached to the age-old ritual of the Mass and we love our churches. But there are lessons to be learned from the dialogue that is a regular feature of life in other denominations, Christian and otherwise.

     It's our Church. I don't want any priest to feel foolish or to insult the women in the congregation. I don't want priests to admonish us (especially for things we haven't done) when we come to celebrate Mass. I want the Church to broaden its outlook and to address many issues, instead of one. I realize this is already happening in many parishes.

     I want everyone who feels called to it to be eligible for the priesthood, whether they are male or female. I know this will not occur in my lifetime. But surely the hierarchy can do better and, judging from that bishop's tone, I know they want to.

Maura Hanrahan's new book is Domino: The Eskimo Coast Disaster. Her website is www.maurahanrahan.com