There is something about Holy Week that seems utterly baffling to those unfamiliar with Christianity. Why would Christians be so proud of the crucifix, the symbol of a defeated, slain Christ? Then there’s the sacrifice of Lent, the solemnity of Good Friday and the joy of the resurrection on Easter Sunday. All are difficult to explain to the generations that never learnt Bible stories at school.
And over the years, Christians in Britain have learnt to stop trying to explain. In the face of an increasingly confident and aggressively secular society, churchgoing, especially among Anglicans, is becoming something one doesn’t talk about.
Roman Catholics have more reason than most to keep a low profile at present. The Roman Church is yet again embroiled in the most appalling controversies: from Munich to Wisconsin, the stories about child abuse proliferate. Not far behind this scandal lies a general question about the role of the Catholic Church in society. And lurking behind that, the role of churches in general: with their schools, adoption agencies, specific outlooks on personal life and defiance of the equalities agenda.
There is no smoking gun in the latest scandal. The Pope is accused of intervening to prevent a Wisconsin priest, Father Lawrence Murphy, from facing penalties for sexual abuse. Fr Murphy’s case was referred to the Vatican after almost 20 years of inaction by the local bishop. The then Cardinal Ratzinger is not recorded to have taken any decision: instead his deputy recommended a full canonical trial in 1996. In August 1998, the local bishop wrote to say that the accused’s ill health made a trial impossible. Fr Murphy died later that month.
It is hard, here, to see a papal cover-up. Not until May 2001 did the Vatican take central authority over such crimes, and responsibility for such investigations fell to Cardinal Ratzinger. He soon became known for dealing with sex abuse cases swiftly, and authorising immediate action without need for a lengthy canonical trial.
But that some 3,000 cases passed through his office shows the extent of the problem within the Church. At the time, Cardinal Ratzinger claimed this had nothing to do with the priesthood or celibacy: the proportion of abuse was no higher among priests than among other groups. Yet studies suggest that this was not the case — the figure was higher. And it is clear that the Church was for a long time lax in dealing with such complaints. Its structural failings left bishops to save their dioceses from controversy by moving around offending priests who should have been sent to jail.
It matters little that Cardinal Ratzinger was the nemesis of such bishops. As Pope he must defend the church, and take responsibility for its failings. His direct and striking apology to congregations in Ireland was merited: the church has failed those who were brave enough to come forward and accuse their abusers. Jesus himself reserved his harshest language for those who harm children, saying ‘it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea’.
Yet it does not follow that the Roman Church is corrupt, or that the Pope should resign. Those who denounce the whole Church as being institutionally guilty of child abuse tend to conflate this issue with other perceived civic offences: the refusal to countenance woman priests, the intransigence on artificial contraception, the cult built around the Virgin Mary. Much of this hostility is old-fashioned Catholic-bashing, a prejudice which began with the reformation. It is not just an expression of horror at the abuse of children, but part of a rising tide of anti-Christianity — the Catholic Church being seen as the most egregious, assertive form of the faith. And it is this last trend that is the most worrying. Just as anti-Semites find cover in Israel-bashing, so anti-Christians take out their ire on the embattled Pope.
Pope Benedict intends to visit Britain this September. When he arrives, he will be greeted by protesters. Already 25,000 signatures have been collected for a petition denouncing his visit. For as long as the Vatican is mired in these deplorable allegations, with national newspapers running cartoons showing a child nailed to a crucifix, the Pope may find his defenders to be rather less vociferous than his critics.
The Spectator holds no brief for the Catholic Church, and has been at odds with it over certain issues for decades. The Vatican has made many mistakes over the years. For having mishandled its paedophile priests, the Church deserves a good part of the opprobrium it is receiving. But the old sectarian dividing lines which once separated people of different faiths are slowly being replaced by a new tension: that which exists between people of faith and implacable secularists. England is fighting to cling on to its status as a Christian country. That is why no Christian should take any pleasure in the Vatican’s discomfiture.
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