Abuse scandal one of many issues for us fallen-off Catholics

At the funeral of a colleague who died young, the priest felt it important to warn the non-Catholics in attendance that they were forbidden to take Communion with the rest of us. The admonition was not gentle, it was crisp. And disgusting.

How could a priest be so unwelcoming, officious and doctrinaire at a time when so many friends of the young woman had gathered to mourn her death? It was hard to imagine Jesus citing the house rules in opening remarks to those who had just lost a sister, daughter and companion.

But then, this occurred in a church governed by bishops who feel empowered to deny the bread of faith to elected officials, even the Catholic president of the United States, with whom they have political disagreement and for whom they probably didn’t vote.

At another funeral last year, the priest felt a need to tell a joke about the deceased, having heard that he was a scratch golfer. Humor at such moments can help us get through the sadness. But this joke was so inappropriate, with a punchline about a golfer suddenly dying, that it elicited only awkward laughter. It brought back unhappy memories — of my father’s funeral and that of a beloved uncle — when the celebrant of the Mass either made no attempt to know and memorialize the Catholic in the casket or coldly refused to allow a humanizing eulogy.

These might seem like petty complaints, but I assure you they cut deep, and I am not alone among the many fallen-off Catholics who no longer find the church of our parents welcoming and relevant. The great falling-off has been happening for years, even before the horrific revelations about the abuse of children by priests, and there are many reasons for it: Some Catholics no longer find it necessary to worship in an organized way, or at all; some no longer hear a meaningful message from the pulpit; some of us no longer desire membership in a church that sees women as secondary, unworthy of the priesthood; some want nothing to do with a church that has become so stridently conservative and political; and some of us no longer take moral guidance from a church that for decades abided the abuse of children.

I know: The hierarchy apologized and apologized. But, at the same time, the hierarchy responded with lawyers. Here, in the Archdiocese of Baltimore, it took a team of Baltimore Sun reporters to uncover the truth about church officials who took part in the cover-up.

A long time ago, when I was an altar boy in our parish, I remember my father calling the pastor a hypocrite because he drove a Chrysler Imperial and had a long, not-very-secret relationship with a single woman in our town. It was confusing to hear all that when I was a kid. But, later, when I dug into the abuse scandal as a journalist — when I saw how bishops and cardinals moved bad priests from one unsuspecting parish to another — I came to understand this high level of hypocrisy.

Having traveled with Cardinal William Keeler to Rome to cover his 1994 elevation, and having heard him speak openly about the abuses when he was archbishop of Baltimore, it was appalling to learn that he was no better than others of his generation. The devastating 2018 grand jury report about abuses in Pennsylvania concluded that Keeler, while archbishop of Harrisburg in the 1980s, had failed to act in the case of two priests, one of whom had been accused of sexually abusing five of eight daughters from the same Catholic family. The grand jury also found that Keeler had allowed a priest, an accused child molester, to resume his ministry in Baltimore.

As a result of all this, the Archdiocese of Baltimore dropped plans to name a new school after Keeler.

Yes, I know: The hierarchy apologized. Not all priests abused children. The church now has safeguards in place to assure it won’t happen again — or, if it does, abuses will be dealt with immediately.

So it’s safe to go back, right? Fallen-off Catholics should consider returning to the church in which we were raised because the church wants us back.

You’d think that would be the message, but I hear no such message.

And besides, on the other side of the mountainous scandal of abuse are all the other remaining issues: The all-male priesthood and the nonsense of celibacy, the stridency against abortion and gay rights, and now, because of the abuse scandal, the lack of credibility on matters of social justice. And there’s the feeling that not all are welcome, a far cry from what Christ had in mind.

I don’t share these very personal views because they are unique, but because they are common. “It’s in our DNA,” a Catholic friend said when I asked why we still bother to wrestle with all this. He’s right. It’s hard to let go of the traditions that marked your early life.

Spirituality should not be so complicated. Rather than struggle, I say keep it simple. You don’t need a church. You don’t need doctrine and doctrinaires. Assuming a life inspired by Christ is still desired, you can find it in the golden rule: “In everything, do unto others what you would have them do to you.” That’s all ye know, and all ye need to know.