Abandoned Altars

Where God builds a church,
the Devil builds a chapel.

– old English Proverb

In my day job, I’m a graphic designer responsible for the advertising for the company I work for. One day not so long ago a fax came through that was handed off to me. The very church I was abused in was inquiring if we would like to place ads in their parish bulletin!

My colleagues must surely have noticed the insane peals of laughter that came from my office, but none was brave enough to inquire…

Dear sweet merciful Mother of God, what an opportunity!

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The summer movie season is in full swing, and so far two films have gained my notice for their clerical characters: The Da Vinci Code, where prelates plot with murderous monks to conceal juicy secrets about Jesus, and Nacho Libre, a light-hearted comedy about a monk who becomes a Mexican wrestler.

Not much reason for the cardinals to go to the matinees these days. Long gone indeed are the days when the film industry catered to the Catholic crowd with safe and morally uplifting propaganda like Going My Way.

For the last several years, I’ve been working on a list of movies, which I call The Fallen Priests Film Festival. Every feature film or TV mini-series I could find that had priests or nuns or indeed, any kind of Christian minister in trouble is included there. I’m sure there’s many more, but I think I’ve found the most important ones by now. I’ve found quite a surprising amount.

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It’s fairly obvious to any objective observer that the Roman Church has lost its way. It often seems like a medieval anachronism here in the cyberpunk reality of the twenty-first century, and its solemn pronouncements sound from an age gone past.

Is it the stunning advances of science that are to blame? The deepening corruption of the surrounding society, perhaps? Or might it have anything to do with the headlong retreat from reform the Vatican has engaged in since John Paul II took office?

A surprisingly prophetic insight comes from, of all places, Madison Avenue.

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Most clergy abuse survivors feel incredibly isolated. And usually for good reason. The abuse is often blamed on them by the perpetrators, who, standing in for God, weild shame like a bullwhip.

In the process of dealing with their memories, they isolate even more. After all, who wants to hear about this horrible stuff? And, if they ever develop the courage to speak out about their abuse, it can rip their families and communities apart.

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