Let us pray... for the good Catholics in the church
A29-year-old man lies in critical condition at Gold Coast University Hospital. Five centimetres of his skull have been crushed into his brain, along with dirt and concrete, and his left side is likely to be useless after an alleged road rage attack in which he was bashed with a crowbar and left for dead.
His life – if it continues – will never be the same. Nor will his family’s.
As a city we are horrified this could happen on our highway.
All we can offer are our thoughts and prayers.
Just like we did to those other victims of violence in Florida.
But will thoughts and prayers actually get rid of guns from the streets of the US, or angry drivers from ours?
And anyway, these days, what is a prayer worth? Given that most (Christian) religions have been stained by the crisis of abuse, does anybody want them? And is anyone brave enough to make them?
It’s not an easy world in which to declare your faith.
Fortunately – or unfortunately – for me, I don’t have any. Well, not enough to have faith in anyway.
I’m a well and truly lapsed Catholic. A ‘cafeteria Catholic’ as a priest in the Vatican once put it – I pick and choose what I like about the religion.
And yes, there is plenty to dislike.
But one of the most beautiful things about Catholicism – about any religion – is the people at the bottom.
Not to discredit priests or pastors or the like – although some, no doubt, should be … and many more above them – but the true heart of any faith is those people who believe.
My only experience is within the Catholic Church … and, believe me, the thoughts and prayers of those lowly parishioners truly make a difference.
I’ve seen it in my mother, who lost her husband to cancer and so healed her heart by volunteering to visit other patients in the palliative care ward.
I see it in a friend who finds time in her schedule to console the dying in a Gold Coast hospice.
You can see it on any given day or night in the streets from Southport to Nerang as the Rosies van rolls around offering food, shelter and a friendly face.
These are the true faithful. And it’s no easy road they travel.
The lions of the Colosseum no longer exist, but the keyboard warriors do. To admit to any religion, let alone Catholicism, is to open yourself to a different kind of abuse.
It’s a new level of victim created by the awful rings of child abuse so hidden by the church leaders.
In fact, one of the biggest problems the church faces is the disconnect between the hierarchy – the literal patriarchy – and the true believers: people like my mother, my friend, the Rosies volunteers, who give so much of their time looking after the poor, the abused, the have-nots.
Their work is tainted by the sins of those in charge – the powerful and power-hungry.
A few years ago I interviewed a local priest, now a Bishop, who admitted honestly that the Church had so failed its flock that he was surprised anyone even showed up anymore.
Yet his disgust actually gave me faith in the Church’s future. There are so many good people in the Catholic faith – it’s a literal crime that the sins of the Fathers obscure our vision of them and their works.
The question of whether there is anyone up there actually listening is moot. A true believer is one who turns those thoughts and prayers into action, with or without help from a higher power.
And so my thoughts turn again to Brock Prime and his family. In the hope, the faith, that their prayers are answered … whether through the miracle of medicine, a higher power, or the power of the people.
I’M A WELL AND TRULY LAPSED CATHOLIC. A ‘CAFETERIA CATHOLIC’ AS A PRIEST IN THE VATICAN ONCE PUT IT – I PICK AND CHOOSE WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THE RELIGION.
Read Ann Wason Moore every Tuesday and Saturday in the