ON THE ROCKS: Cocktails at Bishops’ Conference Belies Church Suffering

A bishop is a middle-school CCD student who grades his own pop quiz.

Catholics4Change

By Kathy Kane

Dear Bishop Senior and Bishop McIntyre,

We have crossed paths over the years but have never formally met. I considered introducing myself in the hotel lounge at the Marriott in Baltimore. I chose not to because I couldn’t trust myself not to recreate the scene of Jesus in the temple with the money changers. I might have overturned a table, sending glasses of Cointreau and Johnny Walker Black Label into the air.

I’m one of the mothers from the Philadelphia Archdiocese who traveled to Baltimore to stand with the survivors outside of the hotel during the Bishops’ Conference. We also attended the Conference in November. We call ourselves the “Mom Squad” and we support the victims and survivors who have literally saved our children by exposing the issue of clergy abuse to the world.

Voices Carry

Your group of bishops did not notice us when you arrived…

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ACTION ITEM! Deaconette C calls for help for a justly imprisoned priest

actionitemDeaconette firmly believes Father Gordon MacRae is where he belongs, much as did his jury. It also appears to her that the State of New Hampshire and the Diocese of Manchester, inter alia, concur. If your views are colored only by “These Stone Walls” and an over-zealous Catholic conservative press, she invites you to take a closer look into Father MacRae’s disturbing history.

That stipulated, Deaconette reminds us all that it is a corporal work of mercy to bring comfort to the imprisoned. If in your charity, to turn a phrase from a Pelagianistic Proto-Post-Pharisee, you are inclined to add funds to Father MacRae’s telephone account, do so.

Source: ACTION ITEM! Fr. Z calls for help for a wrongly imprisoned priest

Nunilo and Alodia? You Ladies Busy?

The Pompous Patronless Protégé, Ph.D. (probably not) Pending (and postulants to these posts, please be apprised at this point that that prat is pegged “the 4P” in these pages)  is perennially perusing the papers in pursuit of pieces portraying the perpetration of profanations by professional primitives as proof positive of Islam’s privations in terms of peace. Though the crusades are long over, Prester John the Chickenhearted seems to think that dramatic incidents of political violence committed by a shrinkingly small but hugely dangerous few can be extrapolated to impugn the loving nature of over a fifth of the world’s people. Believe his hypothesis, and Deaconette C will believe if you do that somewhere along the line, over a fifth of something was involved.

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All Around the Deacon’s Bench

Apparently, the Priggish Porker of the Pantywaisted Patriarchy dipped into the Journal of Feminist Geography and found its contents confusing. One should never expect to understand a graduate level research paper before one has taken the basic survey course. Please, 4P, have a seat and we’ll begin.

Welcome to Feminist Geography 101. I’m Irrev. Prof. Deaconette C. I realize many of you were expecting Professor Socrates, but I’m afraid he lost his bid for tenure. Although he was eminently well-qualified for Pontifical University faculty on the basis of his superannuation of retirement age, his criminal record and his stated preference for young boys, the department ultimately decided that someone who has no Ph.D., no publications, and who actually admits he doesn’t know anything is better qualified for the diocesan curia. He’s now the co-adjutor bishop. So I’m here instead.

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Women in the Diaconate and Men with Six Sigma Feedback Cards

2f613-untitled-1In the sad, little dark corner of the breakout room, near the handout and collaterals table and up against the folding partition wall Where a Drifter Traddy Priest Recalcitrantly Sequesters while the rest of us get on with the real work of Christianity, there’s yet more whining and bitterness going on about Pope Francis’ initiatives. It seems the Holy Father commissioned a study on the history of the female diaconate just so the investigators could chat about the great pastry tray (they’re not as good at the Marriott as they used to be back in the good old days) and sharpie their names on stick-on badges before the ice-breaking session. Which, it is imagined, is followed by lunch and a team building exercise, cookie break, meditation in the Papal gardens and daily Mass before the various cliques decide where to get dinner together because that’s not included in the registration fee. There won’t be enough time to discuss deaconesses (or “deacons,” which is so much easier to say) because of the vicious circle of time-wasting a symposium involves. The doomed study of the female diaconate is going nowhere.

Deaconette has seen this silly line of reasoning before.

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