I have long been given to bold declarations; so much so that I don’t think people really take me seriously when I say that something is “the best” or “the absolute worst” in the world. But as news broke over the last week or so concerning priests being put on leave in the Archdiocese and the mistakes in handling the situations that took place, I thought of two “bests” that I
often trumpet.

Perhaps the best novel written in the English language, in my humble opinion, is Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited. It is a tale of sin, conversion, vocation, and the brokenness of mankind. I believe it is underappreciated in our time because it speaks plainly about sin and how it divides us, and we don’t always want to hear that. In this novel we follow two young Englishmen who go through school together, travel, and form a strong bond as brothers of sorts. One of them is thrown into the grips of alcoholism, and he repeatedly endangers and embarrasses himself by returning to drink, despite the best efforts of those around him. Waugh describes the effect that his repeated transgressions have on his friend as “a blow upon a bruise”, having “no smart or shock of surprise, only a dull andsickening pain and the doubt whether another like it could be borne.” It’s a feeling that many have known when they have seen the same evil crop up again and again and again.
 
I pray that those responsible for protecting our parishes and people will take these things seriously, and I am encouraged by some elements of the response. But all too often, whether it’s an abuse scandal, or financial improprieties, or even just disappointing, run-of-the-mill scandal, it just feels like more of the same. It feels like nothing will ever change and we never learn from our own foolish mistakes that hurt real people and drive others away from the Faith that we seek to spread. That despair creeps into our hearts because we’ve been burned too many times before.
 
But we must always fight to keep hope alive in our midst, even when it seems like we’re the only ones who care. In one of my favorite scenes from one of the best (there’s that word again) movies of all time, A Man for All Seasons, St. Thomas More tries to convince the sycophantic Richard Rich to abandon his desire for vainglory and become a teacher instead. Richard asks, “Who would know?” if he became a teacher, and St. Thomas responds “You. Your pupils, your friends. God. Not a bad public, that.” For many people in the Church there is the constant threat of becoming disillusioned and asking, “Why bother if this just seems to happen over and over again?” If it’s not misconduct of one sort, it’s another.
 
As we face this next test, we remain all too aware that the Church, in her human ministers and practices, is all too fallible. But given the Church’s immaculate foundation, the Communion of Saints of which we strive to be a part, and the many blessings given us only through the Church, we don’t give up, but rather we renew our response to the call to holiness. Who will know if we decide, as a parish region, to respond not with despair or resignation, but with resolve and fortitude? We would. Our children, our friends. God. Not a bad public, that.
 
Prayers always,
Fr. McC