The Boston archdiocese has reinstated Father James Power, who was suspended nearly 7 years ago because of sex-abuse allegations for which, in turns out, the archdiocese cannot find supporting evidence. 

What do you say to a priest who's been barred from pursuing his vocation for 7 years, if you realize there's no substantial evidence to support the disciplinary action taken against him? Oops? Sorry?

There's no reason to think that the case of Father Power is unique. There are other innocent priests out there, waiting for vindication. They were deprived of their rights because-- let's face it, the American hierarchy panicked. The US bishops weighed two factors: due process for ordained ministers on one hand, and the pressure of media attention on the other. We all know which way the scales tipped. The Dallas Charter let bishops escape from the glare of the headlines. Priests who were falsely accused could escape seven years later-- if they were to escape at all.

Oh, and there was one more thing about the reinstatement of Father Power. The Boston Globe reports:

The ruling came 12 years after the church had already settled a $35 million civil lawsuit brought in 1993 by an alleged victim of the priest.

That's $35 million spent from archdiocesan funds-- from the sacrificial offerings of the faithful. The archdiocese, which agreed to that outlay, cannot find evidence to support the charges. But what the heck. It's only money. You can always take up another collection. Or close another parish. 

 Writing for the Wall Street Journal in anticipation of Caroline Kennedy's appointment to the Senate, Anne Hendershott, the author of The Politics of Abortion, helpfully explains "How Support for Abortion Became Kennedy Dogma." She has the story right: liberal Democrats recognized the abortion lobby as a solid source of campaign support; the Kennedy clan leapt into the lead with ersatz theological justification; most Catholic prelates remained silent, thus allowing the success of the gambit. Hendershott concludes:

Until the clerics begin to counter the pro-choice claims made by high-profile Catholics such as Nancy Pelosi, Joe Biden and, now, Caroline Kennedy, faithful Catholics will continue to be bewildered by their pastoral silence.

All right on the money, if not particularly new. What makes the article noteworthy, however, is that Hendershott offers Wall Street Journal readers a fascinating tidbit that they would not have previously seen, unless they had read Phil Lawler's book, The Faithful Departed. Her column describes the secret meeting at the Kennedy compound in Hyannisport, held in 1964-- nearly a decade before Roe v. Wade-- at which dissident theologians developed the tactics that liberal Democrats would use to justify the votes cast by "pro-choice" Catholics.

It was a critically important event, illustrating how the Kennedy family has consistently exploited its Catholicism-- to the betterment of Kennedy political prospects, and the detriment of the faith. The more people know what happened at Hyannisport, the better.

 London's Daily Mail reports that a prominent Benedictine abbot, Dom Hugh Gilbert, has declined the Pope's invitation to become the next Archbishop of Westminster, succeeding Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor as the leading prelate in the English Catholic Church. According to Daily Mail reporter Simon Caldwell, the appointment would have been announced this week. 

This report is unconfirmed. The Vatican has not commented, and presumably will not comment until the appointment of a new archbishop is announced. So it's prudent to treat this report as merely a rumor. You'll notice that this story is not appearing in our regular news coverage.

Nevertheless the rumor is an interesting one. Somebody leaked this story to the Daily Mail. Somebody wants the world to know-- or at least to think-- that Dom Hugh Gilbert was offered the position. Since it's general knowledge that Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor hopes to step down in the near future, the speculation is now fairly intense. The idea that the Pope would turn first to a Benedictine-- someone from outside the comfortably clubby atmosphere of the current English hierarchy-- is significant. Perhaps even more significant is the fact that Abbot Hugh is a former Anglican, and unlike many English bishops he would likely be sympathetic in his approach toward other Anglicans interested in becoming Catholics. 

Finally, if it's true that Pope Benedict asked the Benedict abbot to accept the post, and Gilbert declined-- and again, let's underline that this is a rumor-- Abbot Hugh might always be persuaded to change his mind and accept the appointment. 

In an interview with Richard McBrien, Michael Paulson of the Boston Globe feeds the dissident theologian a steady diet of softball questions until, remarkably, he tosses one that has a little mustard on it. The conversation has reached the point-- it comes in any McBrien interview-- where the Great Man is humbly explaining that the Catholic Church would be much better if the Church were more like McBrien. Paulson asks the obvious question:

And why don't you leave?

McBRIEN: Because it's my church. It's my home. And I was born in it. I've been a Catholic all my life. And I have affirmation from so many good people. I feel that I have a responsibility to them to continue working at it and doing the best I can.

My church: interesting use of the possessive there. McBrien doesn't belong to the Church; the Church belongs to McBrien. 

Some people, when asked why they cling to the Church, might cite the sacramental life. Others might add that regardless of the problems they might encounter within Catholicism, they recognize the institution founded by Jesus Christ. One poor soul, asked exactly the same question that Paulson asked McBrien, could only stammer: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."  Interesting that those words do not occur to McBrien, who instead mentions the "affirmation" from his claque. 

Along with that revealing tidbit, the Globe interview carried another, on a different subject. In voicing his distaste for the American hierarchy, McBrien says that the bishops are generally unimpressive, 

... and nowhere was this more obvious than at the height of the sexual abuse scandal in the priesthood. The truth be told, a significant number of bishops . . . including some high-ranking bishops at the time, were gay. I have no problem with people being gay, but the Catholic Church officially does, and it's constantly making statements that are hostile to gays, and they were compromised.

Now where have we heard that before?

 In his annual address to the Roman Curia, Pope Benedict mentioned that the Church cannot accept "gender ideology" because it is contrary to God's design for the human person. No one even vaguely familiar with Church teachings could possibly have been surprised by the Pope's statement; it reflects the constant teaching of the Church. Yet dozens of commentators have professed shock that the Pontiff would dare say such a thing.

The Pope's speech that ran for several pages, and the reference to sexuality occupied a couple of sentences. That didn't matter. It is axiomatic, among critics of Catholicism, that the Church is obsessed with sex. So when a Catholic leader says something about sexuality, the media fixate on it. Never mind the other 3,500 words of the papal address; these 50 words are the important ones-- the only important ones-- because they're about sex.  

The Pope spoke to the Curia about the Synod of Bishops and the preaching of the Word of God. 

Oh, yeah, sure. I know. But what did he say about sex?

The Pope spoke about World Youth Day and the missionary impulse of the Pauline year.

Sure, sure. All that stuff. What'd he say about sex?

The Pope spoke about protecting the environment, and saving humans from inhuman ideologies.

See? See?! He's obsessed! He can't let it go!

The newspaper headlines convey the sense of frenzy:

Pope Benedict at Christmas: Preaching bigotry disguised as compassion (San Francisco Chronicle)

Pope's Anti-Gay Remarks Spur Controversy (Sofia) 

Gay groups angry at Pope remarks (BBC)

and my favorite example of hysteria:

Pope says gays could end human race (The First Post) 

The UPI story is headlined more soberly: "Pope's speech draws criticism from gays." That's accurate, at least; gay activists did indeed criticize the Pope. Still it's telling that UPI felt the criticism was noteworthy. When was the last time gay activists did not criticize the Pope? For that matter, why do we need to know what gay activists think about the Pope's year-end discussions with the Roman Curia? What did the Albigensians think  of the Pope's speech? Did proponents of the gold standard have any strong opinions? UPI readers will never know. Instead the UPI story informs us: 

Gay and lesbian activists say a speech by Pope Benedict XVI comparing homosexuality to global warming was irresponsible and encouraged homophobia.

Irresponsible: an interesting word. Is it responsible for journalists to fasten on one passage from a text? Is it responsible to seek reactions exclusively from those activists who will predictably denounce the speaker? The Pope is not encouraging homophobia; he's encouraging Christianity. What are the media encouraging?

For many Catholics -- particularly in the Northeast -- the Kennedys are held somewhere just short of the Pope in terms of esteem.  

Thus Chris Cilizza, writing in the Washington Post about the desire of Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg to be handed a seat in the US Senate. And you find yourself nervously asking: Could he be right?

In the 1960s, certainly, it was common to see photos of JFK and Pope John XXIII in matching frames on the mantels of Catholic homes. If you look carefully you may still find those same pictures today, curled and discolored by age, nearly lost in the general clutter on the walls of shops owned by Catholic proprietors. But you won't find any more recent photos. Has anyone ever mounted a photo of Ted Kennedy beside one of Benedict XVI? I doubt it. 

After 40 years of perfidy-- the enthusiastic support for abortion, the sensational personal misconduct, the unsolicited (and unintelligent) advice to the Vatican on theological issues-- the Kennedy family has lost the respect of thinking Catholics. Oh, there may be a few holdouts. There are the tribal Catholics, whose understanding of the faith goes no deeper than rooting for the Notre Dame football team, drinking green beer on St. Paddy's Day, and remembering always to "make it emphatic; straight Democratic" on Election Day. Then there are the committed liberals, who honor the Kennedys precisely because they have distanced themselves from the teachings of the Church. But if you actually hold the Pope in esteem-- if you care what the Holy Father says-- you just can't revere the Kennedy name anymore. Can't be done. 

Do you understand my point? If you do, try to get it across to a friendly journalist. The typical reporter does not esteem the Roman Pontiff, nor does he know anyone who does. But he probably does esteem the Kennedys, for ideological reasons of his own, and assumes that the Kennedy "brand" still sells in Catholic households. (Alas, maybe it does;  maybe the green-beer-and-Notre-Dame Catholics outnumber those in the sentire cum ecclesia crowd.) That's why it's so hard to find the "Schlossberg" tacked onto Caroline Kennedy's name in media accounts of her quest for a seat in the House of Lords Senate. 

Today, comrades, is a bittersweet anniversary. 'Twas ten years ago that the House of Representatives impeached President William Jefferson Clinton of perjury before a grand jury (by a 228-206 vote) and obstruction of justice (by a 221-212 vote).  

Readers who followed the Clinton follies will remember the weird optic the President's allies applied to the Starr Report (the conclusions of the investigation conducted by the Office of the Independent Counsel).  It was the Clintonites who kept media attention focused on the presidential sex so as to distract public interest from the presidential lies.   By talking up his sexual iniquities and downplaying the mendacity he used to evade responsibility for them, Clinton's supporters succeeded in portraying the prosecutors as theocrats out to enforce a sectarian sexual morality.  Judge Robert Bork demolished the claim with irreducible succinctness:

Sex is not the gravamen of [the Starr Report] but merely the predicate for the cover-up allegations. If a man was charged with lying about a break-in and inducing others to lie, you might, if you were brainless, say the whole thing was just about a "third-rate burglary" and therefore not grounds for impeachment. To prove the charges of perjury and obstruction of justice, a prosecutor would have to prove the burglary, just as Starr, to prove his charges, had to establish the sex. 

As it happened, the GOP senators funked their duty, allowing Clinton to be acquitted on both counts and helping turn the charge of perjury into the juridical joke that it is today. The consequences are painfully evident in our public life.  It comes as no surprise that the creatrix of the "vast right wing conspiracy" -- that conspiracy which, by a fluke, maliciously guessed the President's misbehavior eight months before he confessed to it -- will soon be the principal communicator of our nation's good faith to the rest of the world. 

For a brief shining moment, though, it might have been otherwise.

David Gibson of the Commonweal crowd is surprised that Rick Warren will be offering an invocation at the Obama inaugural. So am I. But Gibson's ways are not my ways, and whereas I'm surprised that Pastor Rick accepted the invitation, Gibson is surprised that the invitation was extended by President-elect Obama in the first place, since Warren "was viewed by many as having sandbagged Obama at the forum Warren held at his Saddleback SoCal church during the campaign."

Sandbagged? I thought Warren was scrupulously fair in his questioning of Obama. The "many" people who hold a contrary view had not made their presence known to me until I read Gibson's post. At least one other reader was puzzled, and Gibson helpfully explained that Warren had invited the presidential candidates with a promise that they would talk about "climate change and poverty and AIDS in Africa and such"-- topics on which Obama could score points. But the Saddleback Forum "instead focused on more red-meat religious rights topics." Such as abortion: a topic on which Obama's answer was utterly incoherent.

Some people avoid red meat, particularly when there's quiche on the menu. But how could anyone-- even a Democratic operative-- be surprised when a notedChristian, well known for his pro-life stand, questioned a candidate about abortion? What sort of Evangelical or Catholic group would discuss the top issues of the day with a future president without raising that issue? 

Wait; I can answer the latter question. The National Catholic Reporter tells us that leaders of 15 Catholic groups met with the Obama transition team this week, and the topics on the agenda included "international development and trade, health care reform, immigration, domestic poverty and poverty reduction, and the environment."  Not a mention of abortion-- nor of euthanasia, same-sex marriage, embryo research, family life, or any other issue directly involving the 'culture of death.'

The Catholic groups represented include: Catholics United, Pax Christi USA, Network, the Maryknoll Office for Global Concerns, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, Conference of Major Superiors of Men, the Jesuit Conference, School of the Americas Watch, Franciscan Action Network, Sisters of Mercy, Africa Faith and Justice Network, the Center of Concern, Catholic Scholars for Worker Justice and Catholics in Alliance for the Common Good.

Ah, that explains it. Rick Warren might not have been comfortable in that group-- which is only fair, because the group would not be comfortable with Warren. If lunch was served, you can wager there was no red meat on the menu.

 INAUGURAL PICK SPARKS GAY FURY claims a Fox News headline.  The "gay fury" commonplace prompted me to wonder: when was the last time gays were "mildly vexed" by some turn of affairs, and expressed "measured disappointment"?

"I divide my officers into four classes. The man who is clever and industrious is suited to high staff appointments. Use can be made of the man who is stupid and lazy. The man who is clever and lazy is suited to the highest command -- he has the nerve to deal with all situations.  But the man who is stupid and industrious is a danger and must be dismissed immediately." -- General Baron Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord 

Whenever Richard Sklba stumps into the kitchen gripping his theological repair-kit, you shudder.  Because you just know that his attention will fasten on some part of the Catholic tradition in good working order, and that, once he's fixed it, it'll be in pieces all over the linoleum. In this week's Herald of Hope column Milwaukee's millwright of malfeasance takes in hand the wrench of Jewish-Christian dialogue to tune-up the spirituality of Advent. The result? Er, replacement parts are on order. 

It may seem a small point, but we Christians need to examine carefully the hymns and carols which we sing during this sacred season of our Advent. A classic case in point is the popular Advent song, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." What does it mean to sing a plea for God to rescue "captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear"?

If a Jewish friend or colleague were present, what would they think?

The reference may be to the book of Lamentations and to the sorrow of ancient Jewish people over the destruction of the Temple and the city of Jerusalem, first by the Babylonians in the sixth century BCE, and then by the Romans in the first century, but Israel has been a free state for 60 years. 

The carol in question is a 19th century translation of the Latin hymn Veni, Veni Emmanuel, which deftly weaves together the "O antiphons" traditionally employed in the octave before Christmas.  Because it's Advent, Christians spiritually assume the posture of Jews before the birth of Christ in waiting for the Messiah, and the Israel in question is understood by everyone, Jews included, to refer to those who fear the Lord and thereby recognize their spiritual bondage to sin. One needn't sift the book of Lamentations for a key; the numerous Old Testament references to God as Redeemer point to the same truth. Why do Jews as well as Christians continue to pray Psalm 137 ("By the waters of Babylon we sat and wept") but for the fact that, in the spiritually pertinent sense, "captive Israel" remains, and remains in need of ransom? The vicissitudes of the "free state" founded in 1948 have no conceivable connection to the hymn. 

Except for purposes of sabotage.  After all, "O Come O Come Emmanuel" is noteworthy precisely for the warmth with which it invites Christians to put on Israelite clothing, as it were, and to pray for the coming of Christ in the same language of yearning that our spiritual forebears used before the Incarnation; it stresses our human continuity, as well as our historical continuity, with Israel.  Respecting our Old Testament legacy, the hymn froths over with quiet good will. 

Can't have that. Look at it this way: the artillerymen of the inter-religious dialogue brigade would be out of a job if, even in this small corner of traditional piety, the pre-Conciliar Church turned out to have it right all along.   So you thought you were giving voice to innocent good will in your Advent hymnody?  Enter Bishop Sklba and -- bingo! You don't any more.

Every year, as Christmas and Easter approach, a handful of obscure professors emerge from their dusty carrels to seize their 15 minutes of fame. During those few weeks each year the media is paying attention to religion, and an ambitious academician can leap in front of the spotlight by advancing a novel theory about the history of Christianity.

Take, for example, Australian astronomers who theorize that Christ was actually born in June. Let's be honest; the mass media wouldn't be interested in this theory if it had been presented in, say, June. The media interest in the Nativity is seasonal; a typical journalist's grasp of theological issues is... Well, just notice the point that seemed important to the Daily Telegraph in connection with the astronomers' argument: 

If the team is correct, it would mean Jesus was a Gemini, not a Capricorn as previously believed.

Still, you can't blame the astronomers if the reporter leans toward astrology. The professor base argument on a study of the night skies, and a rare alignment of planets that could account for the brightness the Magi saw as the Star of Bethlehem. You might not find their argument compelling, but at least there is some scientific evidence presented to support it; the hypothesis is not preposterous on its face. 

In an altogether different category are those academicians who advance a deliberately provocative theory without bothering about the evidence.  Thus far this year, the leader in the clubhouse is Rose Mary Sheldon of Virginia Military Institute, who has put forward the novel theory that St. Paul, far from being a Christian missionary, was actually a spy working for the Roman empire. Not that's an eye-opener, isn't it? But where's the evidence?

Sheldon says Paul's interaction with Roman officials seems to have been remarkably friendly, and she notes that in his letter to the Romans, he urges Christians to obey them.

Well now let's see, Professor Sheldon. Apart from this fantastic conspiracy theory, is there any other way to explain St. Paul's relations with the Roman officials? Could they have been respectful, say, because St. Paul was a Roman citizen? Would there be any theological explanation for his advice that Christians should obey legal authorities? Anything, perhaps, in the writings of St. Paul himself?  

And you know, there was a limit to the Roman friendliness. The emperor did, finally, cut off St. Paul's head. If he really was working for the Romans to squelch the young Christian faith, St. Paul didn't do a very good job. 

 According to the official Vatican translation, in a message about the Christian heritage of European culture, Pope Benedict XVI encouraged reflection upon "the ancient roots in which abundant lymph has flowed over the course of the centuries."

Lymph? 

Hey, look: I know it was a long weekend. Let's cut the poor translators a bit of slack.

But if you have "ancient roots" through which "abundant lymph" is flowing, please see a doctor, quickly.