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Blind Faith: Blind Folly

~ by Frank O'Meara

Blind Faith: Blind Folly

Monthly Archives: October 2015

FILTHY FEET ON HOLY GROUND

29 Thursday Oct 2015

Posted by frankomeara in Uncategorized

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For Jews it is the Temple Mount where Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac.  For Christians it is the site of the second Jewish Temple where Jesus prayed.  For Muslims it is the Noble Sanctuary where Mohammed saddled his horse and galloped up into Heaven.  This is a highly charged religious site, uniting the three major faiths in almost fanatical fervor for three totally different reasons.

At present it has become once again a hot-spot, with Israeli soldiers as the targets of a new intifada, with Muslim youths using stones and slingshots against the heavily armed Jewish military men.  The President of the Palestinian Authority, Mahmoud Abbas, accuses Israel’s Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, of planning to divide the compound, which includes two major Islamic shrines, the Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock.  Abbas said recently that Israeli officers “have no right to defile the site with their filthy feet”.

It is hard to see how believers can ever come to reconcile and mutually tolerate their conflicting claims to this “holy” site.  This time around, three people died when a Muslim student attacked four Orthodox Jews killing two of them, before being shot by Israeli security forces.  The killing has already spread to other cities in Israel and is likely to increase until another (temporary) truce agreement is reached – as both sides wait for the next outbreak of the periodic violence which expresses the permanent mutual hatred of the two religious persuasions.  At least, for the moment, Christians have not been involved, but are in harm’s way and in danger of being caught in the crossfire.

Earlier this week, Abbas in New York appealed to the United Nations assembly to provide international protection for Palestinians.  Meantime Jews are being stabbed in the streets of the Holy City.  Once again Hitchens comes to mind : “Religion poisons everything”.

DELENDA  RELIGIO  

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A CRASH – COURSE FOR CARDINAL PELL

27 Tuesday Oct 2015

Posted by frankomeara in Uncategorized

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The former Archbishop of Sydney, now ensconced in the Vatican as one of the Pope’s eight personal counselors for the reform of the Church, left an indelible legacy behind him in my home-town.  Thanks to the Internet, people not only there but around the world will remember him for a statement he made on ABC Television’s “Q & A”, April 10, 2012.  In his famous debate with Richard Dawkins, he said that Neanderthals were our ancestors.  “COUSINS”, corrected the Oxford scientist.  But His Eminence insisted, revealing an ignorance as embarrassing as it was abysmal.

Reading a recent interview with Svante Pääbo, a Swedish paleoanthropologist and probable future Nobel Prize winner for his sequencing of the Neanderthal genome (“L’Express”, 30 September, 2015), I could not but think of George Pell and his pathetic blunder which he might call a “lapsus mentis”, when I came across the following paragraph.  It could serve as a crash-course for Cardinal Pell and others as clueless as he about the origins of mankind and the “homo sapiens sapiens” we claim to be :

” Neanderthal is indeed our cousin.  We share a common ancestor and our two species were separated in a period estimated as between 750,000 and 550,000 years.  First stage : the “Daddy” of Neanderthal left Africa for Eurasia, where he fathered Neanderthal in Europe.  The “Daddy” of Homo Sapiens stayed at home in Africa, and when his descendants – modern men – were born on the African continent, they left to take over the world.  Second stage : during his long migration, homo sapiens sapiens found himself face-to-face with Neanderthal, and contrary to what a number of paleoanthropologists affirmed, the two species did not content themselves with co-existence, but interbred between 40,000 and 90,000 years ago, in the Middle East but also in Central Asia.  Thus we share 1% to 4% of our genes.  That may seem little enough, but in fact it is enormous : still today, we all have “something of Neanderthal” (my note : a subtle reference to a popular French song, “quelque chose de Tennessee”). Isn’t that touching ?  Final stage : after breeding with his cousin, modern man continued on his journey to populate the rest of the planet.  As far as China and Australia, which explains, for example, why Australians (Aborigines) have also genes from Neanderthal, although the latter never left Europe. ”

You would have thought that a Cardinal would have known that much.

P.S.  Not at all, George !  You’re welcome.  I’m happy to continue educating the clergy.

RIDENDA   RELIGIO

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WOWED BY THE SHROUD ?

26 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by frankomeara in Uncategorized

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I am writing this, not in Turin but in Milan.  It is a sun-drenched Autumn afternoon that can only be described as “fabuloso !”.  Sitting here in the sidewalk café facing the Duomo, sipping my double Cappucino (the Franciscan Connection) and a San Benedetto Acqua Minerale Naturale (instead of the Glenlivet which would have been my choice before I went on the wagon), I am overwhelmed by the beauty and busyness of the vast Piazza del Duomo and the gleaming multispired magnificence of the Cathedral.

We did not count the 3200 statues nor the 135 spires, but as typical tourists we “did” the Duomo in style.  We even paid our respects to St Charles Borromeo in his glass casket, his skull and face hidden by a golden mask, and discovered nearby the ruins of the 4th century baptistery.  Milan is not to be missed, especially for the Duomo.  You can even visit the church of Santa Maria degli Grazie but don’t count on seeing Leonardo’s “Last Supper” unless you made two-day advance bookings.  We didn’t.

Yesterday we were in Turin.  You will have to wait another ten years before you can get to see the real Shroud but we did see its box and the curtain covering it in the Cathedral, and a splendid full-size photocopy of it in the nearby octagonal church of San Lorenzo.  It is displayed in a side-room, where a volunteer guide is happy to describe in approximate English the story of the Shroud.  Fortunately a leaflet in English is available to fill in the details.

You can get the drum yourself from the Net.  What struck me was the mention of another Shroud on display at Orviedo, Spain.  It would appear that this is supposedly the head-cloth mentioned as separate from the Shroud in John 20:7.  But, inevitably, the leaflet speaks also of the 1988 scientific analysis of a small piece of the Shroud which revealed through Carbon 14 testing that the cloth dates from 1260-1390.  Obviously the research conducted by experts in Tuczon, Oxford and Zurich had to be rejected if the cult was to continue :  “That finding is no longer believed reliable, as it is thought that the pollution and contamination the cloth has suffered during its varied history over the centuries could have influenced the results”.

So … no worries !  The Shroud of Turin is A-OK, genuine, authentic !  The scientific analysis is dismissed as unreliable for the reasons mentioned and others like the discovery of traces of pollen common in the Middle East at the time of Christ.  The leaflet finds an additional argument for authenticity in the identification of the blood in the stains on the cloth as of the group AB, the same as that on the altar-cloth from a bleeding host at Orvieto.  This last detail does nothing to enhance the Shroud’s claims. Many people find the Shroud itself credible.  The gory myth of Orvieto invites accusations that Holy Communion is cannibalism; the eucharistic legend is too incredible to … swallow.

The Shroud is, per se, an impressive argument for its authenticity.  It is not a painted forgery : experts have ascertained that the image on the Shroud was produced by blood and not by paint.  Moreover, if you take into account the conformity of the Gospel accounts with the traces of scourging, crucifixion and piercing the Crucified’s side with a lance, you have enough “evidence” to assert that the Shroud is indeed that employed to wrap both the front and the back of a mutilated corpse : perhaps that of Jesus crucified … or the dead body of someone used as the model for the creation of a unique “relic” of Jesus taken down from the Cross.  There remains the major problem of the triple, independent Carbon 14 dating, since put into question, notably in a BBC video.  The Shroud’s recorded history began only when it was the prized possession of Geoffroy de Charney in the fourteenth century at his property in Lirey, 190 km east of Paris. There are suggestions, however, that there is evidence for its existence two centuries before in Constantinople and even earlier.  However I, at least, can imagine that in an age when relics were worth considerably more than their weight in gold, when the “authentic” Crown of Thorns was already enshrined in St Louis’ Sainte Chapelle in Paris, when every city in Europe sought relics of Saints to attract pilgrims to their Cathedral and CBD, their marketplace, where relics of the “True Cross” exposed in churches throughout the continent would have constituted “a beam stretching across Europe” – as the Proto-Protestant Martin Luther famously said two centuries later – some devout souls, perhaps with the purest of intentions went to enormous extremes not necessarily to create a fake, forged Shroud, but a pious object, like paintings and statues, sure to serve effectively as a means of increasing devotion and gratitude to Christ who suffered atrociously and died to redeem mankind.

It would have taken exceptional skills and attention to detail to have produced such a unique “relic”.  So exceptional that it is scarcely believable that anyone could, or would, go to all that trouble – and succeed so spectacularly !  Q.E.D.  ?

Additional “evidence” is found in the bit about the surprising quality of the negative image produced by the photography of Secundo Pio in 1898, considered by some devotees as little short of miraculous.

But even if it were PROVEN that the Shroud is in fact the actual cloth used to wrap the body of a victim of crucifixion, it would constitute only a powerful presumption for the historicity of the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ Passion and Death.  It would obviously not establish that the “event” on which Christian faith is based, the Resurrection, ever took place.  It would just provide probable evidence that Jesus was crucified.  Of course, we are a long way from that pipe-dream’s realization.  Even the authenticity of the Shroud would not establish the authenticity of the Gospel claim that Jesus was divine.

People who reject the myths supposedly establishing Jesus’ divinity, let alone people who deny the very existence of God, would welcome further research on the Shroud, but would not find their rejection of religion in any way weakened even in the extremely unlikely event that the Shroud were proven to be that of a man crucified in the fourth decade of the first century.

It is however understandable that millions would be impressed and convinced by the Treasure of Turin.  For the rest of us, it is one more example of the “leap of faith” many people are prepared to make, because they want and need to believe.

RIDENDA  RELIGIO

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CHAPTER THREE: FROM BELIEVING TO SEEING

26 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by frankomeara in Uncategorized

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CHAPTER THREE

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CHAPTER TWO : FOLLOWING FRANCIS (Part Four)

23 Friday Oct 2015

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ST  PASCHAL’S  COLLEGE  OF  THEOLOGY

The transition from Philosophy to Theology involved not just a change in venue, but the momentous event which was the taking of Solemn Vows.  For the twenty-one year old I now was, it was a major decision, the commitment to becoming a fully-fledged Franciscan for the rest of my life.  Some of my fellow-Friars had decided to return to the “lay-state” during our three years of Philosophy, and had had little difficulty in receiving the necessary dispensation from their Simple Vows.  The taking of Solemn Vows was a far more definitive step.  During my four years at St Paschal’s only one solemnly professed student, just before Diaconate, the last step immediately prior to ordination to the Priesthood, requested a dispensation from his vows.  It was a deliberately slow, exceptional and painful process.  But, as had been the case in taking Simple Vows, I personally had no doubt that I would now be a Franciscan till the day I died.  I was happy and proud to be admitted as a permanent member of the Order.

It never occurred to me at the time, but in retrospect I see a curious analogy with graduating from three years of Primary School to five years of High School.  “Omnibus paribus” (“All things being equal”), as I would have said then, I would study Theology in the Melbourne suburb of Box Hill, be ordained a priest and complete my preparation for the ministry by a fifth “Pastoral Year” with my fellow-ordained “frati” in the Sydney suburb of Waverley, where I had, years before, met Fr Kieran who sent me to Robbo.

At St Paschal’s College, as at MBK High School, I had new teachers, new subjects, a new status.  We were now totally committed members of the Order, albeit trainees for the priesthood, dedicated to acquiring the theological knowledge presumably necessary to fulfill our future function as pastors, confessors, preachers, celebrants of the Sacraments and servants of the People of God.

Except for Sacred Scripture, our course of studies was entirely new : Dogmatic (!) Theology, Moral Theology, Canon Law, Liturgy, Church History, Homilectics (the art of preaching).  Almost all of our professors had degrees from overseas Universities, Louvain, Rome, even Oxford, Munich and Washington.  (Years later I would be the first – and the last – to be sent to study in … Paris.)  We would be given a smattering of Greek and even Hebrew by a brilliant, gifted Friar whose talents included a voice fabulously suited to Gregorian Chant, notably in the Liturgy of Holy Week preceding and including Easter.  The other professors were also admirable men in their knowledge and dedication, though more than limited in their mastery of pedagogy, or, more accurately – as they were dealing not with children but with (young) adults – androgogy.  Some used textbooks but most gave themselves the task of producing for each class four pages of notes, on Gestetner stencils, which they compiled, typed and distributed (without necessarily identifying the sources of their probable plagiarism.)  A memorable example was the seventeen pages we were given on Double Vasectomy.  Medico-Moral Ethics was, of course, a necessary, vital subject for future Confessors, although without revealing what I still consider an inviolable secret, I can affirm that I never once heard a confession relating to this particular form of birth-control.

(Readers must wonder about ex-priests’ attitude to all sorts of things, including the Confessional Secret.  We learned, and few Catholics understand, that what is forbidden to a confessor is not the revelation of a particular confessed “sin“, but its possible attachment to a particular, identifiable penitent.  Whence the famous, exemplary story about the newly-ordained priest who spoke of his first experience in the confessional : “My very first penitent confessed to committing murder !”  Unfortunately, in the pub nearby, a parishioner was expressing his admiration for the new young curate of the parish, and priding himself on having been his very first penitent …).

I heard many confessions during my seven years of ministry, parishioners, school-children, priests, nuns, brothers, juvenile delinquents, in both English and French.  My penitents have no need to worry about my revealing their sins.  A : I never have.  B : I never will.  C : I never could.  I have not the faintest idea of who confessed what.  I may disappoint some anti-clericals.  But what is more important is that as a professional, even one who has abandoned previous religious beliefs, I have total respect for anyone who entrusts me with a secret, be it in the context of the confessional (fifty years ago !) or the revelation of someone today who does me the honor of asking me confidentially for advice.

Our studies were exclusively Catholic.  In Philosophy we never studied Marxism, and fleeting references to other abominations in philosophical thought consisted of summary dismissal.  In Theology, we noted the erroneous opinions of heretics, but gave them little serious attention.  After all, we were in the 1950s, the Middle Ages compared with the thinking behind the ground-breaking Ecumenical Council of Vatican 2 of the sixties.  The official doctrine was still “extra Ecclesiam nulla salus“, “Outside the Church – one, holy, Catholic and apostolic – no salvation”.

We had no need or incentive to discover questions, but continued in the tradition, formalized by the Council of Trent in the 16th century, of being impregnated with the sure, certain, infallible doctrine of the Church.

In High School, our religion classes had included something called “Apologetics“, a systematic refutation of every imaginable objection to Catholic faith and practice, in the style of Dr Rumble’s “Radio Replies”, a best-selling publication of this Australian priest-theologian-historian’s popular weekly radio program on 2SM.  Neither in school or the seminary did we ever study Judaism, Islam or Buddhism, or even more than a superficial review of Protestantism or Christian Orthodoxy.  We had our own certitudes.  We knew we were right.  Our ignorance did not bother us, as we delved into the intricacies of unquestionable Catholic belief.

As at Greyfriars, life at St Paschal’s was pleasant enough.  We had the good fortune of having intelligent, well-informed professors, noticeably less paranoid than some of their confreres at Mornington.  Discipline was strict, but willingly accepted.  We learned humility and the meaning of poverty by having to ask the Student-Master for it every time we needed a tube of toothpaste.  The balance between prayer, liturgical celebrations, classes, personal study, manual labor and sporting activities was such that it never occurred to any of us to voice anything resembling a complaint.  We even had the privilege of viewing occasionally, in the students’ rec room, a movie, selected and rented by one of the students.  I remember I once had this responsibility, and was embarrassed by having totally misunderstood what “Magnificent Obsession“, with Rock Hudson, was all about.  Though a very tame love-story, it was not the sort of entertainment to which we were accustomed.  “Marcellino Pan y Vino” was more typical of the edifying fare we normally saw.

We practised preaching, under the guidance of the Student-Master.  The audience was the student-body, invited to offer constructive criticism of the homiletic efforts of each of the future Fulton Sheens we hoped to be.

We were also given a precious supplement to our theological studies.  The Christian Brothers had a training center near the College, and we were given the opportunity to learn the fundamentals of practical pedagogy, by teaching classes of small children in a specially constructed facility, which boasted, in one of the classrooms, a back wall made of one-way glass.  The kids would come into the classroom and try to peer through the mirror to see if there were student-teachers in the room behind it.  Of course, all they saw was their own faces.  We sat in tiered seats, Christian Brothers and Franciscans, witnessing the performance of a fellow-student trying his hand at teaching eleven-year olds, expertly analyzed in real time by the Christian Brother Master of Method.

I mention this experience of practice preaching and teaching because of the fact that many of us, in later years, already ordained but suffering serious doubts about pursuing our “vocation“, had to face the fact that our seven or eight years of preparation for the priesthood did not allow us to acquire any truly marketable skills.  “To dig I am not able, to beg I am ashamed” (Luke 6:3).  The Gospel text did not add this other cause for hesitation in some young priests’ temptation to be “reduced to the lay state”, to abandon the priesthood, with or without a Papal dispensation, and seek a job in the … real world.  (Many others, including much older priests, faced as well the, to them, insurmountable obstacle of disappointing, offending, scandalizing and being rejected by their families.)  Years later, at the time I decided to leave the Order and the Priesthood, many of my fellow-priests who did leave, found themselves literally unemployable, if they could not find financing for the studies necessary to acquire the skills and degrees of a lawyer, an accountant or a social worker; they were reduced to taking any job, even the most menial, which was available.  One former Sydney priest I knew had to make his living as a truck driver delivering bread.  Another, mindful perhaps of the Gospel phrase which he had never applied to himself, “To dig I am not able“, ended up as a grave-digger.

My own academic career left me little in the way of qualifications for most secular jobs. Fortunately I had early and even post-graduate effective training in communication, public-speaking and in teaching.  Knowledge of Canon Law, Sacramental Theology and Catholic medico-moral Ethics are not particularly effective selling-points in seeking employment.  I am grateful that I would not later find myself as destitute and ill-equipped as so many others who took the risk of leaving the security of the priesthood and trying to begin a career without a minimum of indispensable qualifications and aptitudes.

None of this, once again, was on my mind at any time during my studies.  At the minimum age of twenty-four (Robbo had given me the extra year I needed), I was ordained in 1961 in St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney, by His Eminence Norman Thomas Cardinal Gilroy, my Dad’s old schoolmate at MBK, fifty years before.  I concelebrated my First Mass with my two priest-brothers, Mick and Jim, in my old parish church in Kogarah, on the altar that bore my (Uncle Frank’s) name.

I was now a “sacerdos in aeternum“, “a priest forever“, totally devoid of doubt, filled with faith, in my religion and in my chosen calling.  I could not imagine that seven years later I would ask the Pope to dispense me from the vows I had so willingly taken, or that it would take another ten years for me to make the definitive step into atheism.    

  

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CHAPTER TWO : FOLLOWING FRANCIS (Part Three)

22 Thursday Oct 2015

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GREYFRIARS-BY-THE-SEA

After the solemn ceremony of Simple Vows, the eight of us who had “graduated” were decked out in “clericals”, black suits, black felt hats and back-to-front white clergyman collars.  Teenaged clones of the clergy, we boarded the train for Melbourne.  No question of a farewell visit to our family homes before we set off for seven consecutive years in Victoria.  We had “given up the world”.  Whatever about the Gospel text concerning giving up one’s own mother and father for the sake of the Son of God, we had enjoyed their presence at the taking of our vows, and should never have questioned the decision about not visiting them at home.  I must confess, however – and did, literally, at the time – that after a full year away from home, I did regret not being allowed to see Kogarah one last time.

“Greyfriars”, the Franciscan House of Philosophy near Mornington on the shores of Port Phillip Bay, south of Melbourne, would be our home for the next three years.  Nearby was “Morning Star”, a “Boys’ Home” or Juvenile Delinquent Detention Center, where certain of our fellow-Friars attemped to “reform” boys of fourteen to eighteen, sentenced by the Courts to from six to eighteen months of incarceration.  They were in prison.  We were not.  But now we were professed Religious, bound by our vows, which for the next three years could be annulled only by the highest authorities of the Order.

Nothing was further from our minds as we settled into our new life as students of First Year Philos.  Very quickly we got to know and appreciate our new companions and confreres of Philosophy 2 and 3, our seniors and sometimes models for living the vocation we shared.  We also appreciated their numbers, which made the composition of sports teams a little closer to reality.

Our two principal Professors had both completed doctoral studies overseas, not in Rome or Louvain, Belgium, as their predecessors had done, but, because of the war raging in Europe, in the U.S.  They were impressive, big men, tasked with introducing us to Medieval Philosophy, with a special emphasis on the Franciscan tradition of Duns Scotus (1266-1308), known as the Subtle Doctor, rather than the more common tradition of the Dominican Angelic Doctor, St Thomas Aquinas.

Aquinas was also the name of the Guardian, or Father Superior, of the Greyfriars community.  “Aq” was not like the others.  He looked like, and was, a “bon vivant”, appreciated more for his culinary skills and personal recipes like “Duck in Habit” than anything he tried to teach us, including elocution.  We liked him, but never took him seriously.  “Bob” and “Larry” (or “Lash”) – diminutives we would use only in their absence, or course, were, on the other hand, totally serious, the latter, at least, to the point of paranoia.  Uncomfortably so, in class, in chapel, on the football field and in the daily periods of manual labor.  “Nicky”, the Student Master, was different again.  A soft-spoken Scripture scholar who, besides his responsibility of introducing us to the arcana of Biblical Exegesis, assured also those of Student Master and Spiritual Director.  And then there was “Phonse”, who was not a member of the faculty and whose exact functions were unclear, apart from the daily chore he gave himself of feeding his twenty-three cats and driving the Friary Peugeot stationwagon on community errands.

All of these were priests, but there were, as there had been at Robbo and Maryfields, other members of the community called Lay Brothers.  They wore habits identical with those of the priests and the “clerics” (students for the priesthood) that we were, but they were different from us.  They took care of the physical work that needed to be done for the community, cooking, laundry, maintenance.  We participated through our own manual labor, but they were the real work-force.  Second-class citizens ?  It seemed so.  Not only could they never hold office in the Order (this, like so much else in the Order today, has changed), but even share the recreation room of the “Fathers” (we called them the “Dads”) or our own students’ rec room.  They had chosen to be Franciscans but lacked either the education and/or the desire to become priests.  None of the Brothers I ever lived with was an eccentric or a misfit.  Mind you, clerics’ contacts with these good, dedicated, sometimes talented men were deliberately and traditionally limited.  We were castes apart.  After all, in just a few more years, we would be ordained priests.     

 

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”Frank O’Phile”

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