The song of pain continues

I've read Part 2.

I did try to post only about things to do with writing on this blog, but some narratives are too big, too violent, too insidious to ignore. The story of the Dublin report has threads stretching out over the country and into the heart of every good Irish person who has ever walked inside a church. I can't ignore it, and I can't bring myself to stay silent about it. There has been too much silence.

Why did they do it?! WHY?! What damaged them so much that they thought it was acceptable to rape and to hurt?! Enough excuses, enough sanitisation - I want every last priest, every last believer in Ireland to know that this, this is the horror that was inflicted on the young, and the bishops let it happen! They were incompetant, and uncaring! They are unrepentant even now!

That the government were, and are, so utterly indifferent to the whole mess speaks volumes about their moral worth, and of the value they place on the Irish people. The evidence is there for all to see. These crimes were committed, and shown to have been obfuscated by the Catholic Church in order to save face, but there will be nothing done - not even a statement of condemnation - while the government remains spineless and self-absorbed. Andrew Madden talks here about his experiences while trying to obtain justice. The response of Bertie Ahern (then the leader of the country), that the State could not investigate the Church, chills me to the bone. And the sad truth is that they only care to speak about it at all because the Irish people are screaming at them.

It sends a clear message that the Catholic Church here is accountable to no one. That if a priest does something to me, or to the people I love, the law will not hold him to the same standard as a non-priest. I don't know if I want to live in this country any longer, knowing that.

I know I cannot be part of a religion whose leaders are so morally bankrupt that they allowed this to happen, and then refuse to take responsibility for the pain their decisions inflicted on hundreds of people. I will not have it on my conscience.

And so I sing across the Net, my voice lost in the chorus as the sons and daughters of Ireland call out the true lament; that our beloved country is broken, that there will never be justice to ease the pain.

The shameful lament of the Dublin Diocese

The Dublin Diocesan report has been published. I've read through Part 1 so far. Here's Part 2.

This is the land of saints and scholars. Ours is an ancient culture, a proud history going back generations. Ireland is known for its friendliness, and beauty; the people are known for their warmth, and generosity.

Sometimes it seems that all the things that make my country a wonderful and admirable place have survived in spite of the activities of the Church.

I have known priests who were heroes. Leaders, Samaritans, interested in only the good of those around them; they were the ideal, the ultimate sacrificers of their own lives in service to the people. What of their faith now? What of all the good that they have done, tainted by this evil?

I have known people who were devout Catholics, and truly believed in the divine instruction of their saviour to love one another, as he had loved them. What of their belief now? What of their trust in the Church, ruined by the actions of the few?

I weep for this open wound on my country. I weep for the pain of the victims; may they find some measure of solace from the horror they have known. This strikes us all, whether we care or not, and the pain and shame will never go away until the wound is healed.

For the Church: Reach out to us. Your messiah wanted to take away the hurt of all mankind; show us you still believe that! Show us that you are still worthy of our trust!

For the people: Never forget. Never, never allow the Church or the government stay ignorant of the hurt that they cause. Demand that the Church live up to its ideals.