The Meek are finding a voice …
I’ve just been reading Petina Gappah’s powerful Dear Pope letter and it’s left me sad. Sad, because I agree with her. Sad because this whole church business is just the tip of the sinking iceberg. Read her post and when you come to the only link in it, one to Martin Kimani, then click on that link and read on.
The meek may not want to inherit the Earth, they just want to live in peace on it. All this takes me back to a Catholic school in Sydney – Loreto Convent Kirribilli which I attended from age 4 to 6 years. I don’t remember much from that time except for being hit on my calves with the wood of a feather duster for talking in line. But I wasn’t the only one, so I guess I thought it normal. Punishment was when you were naughty. And several of us were naughty. But now, over 60, I still remember the welts on my little leg, the right one, it was. There are no scars. No other memories from that time. I can’t even remember if I told my parents. They must have noticed the welts. Or maybe they were just in my imagination. When I was 7, we moved and I went to Loreto Convent Normanhurst. I collected holy cards, read all the books on the saints, even thought for a short while, I might become a nun. But there was the bush, horses and tennis. And then I ran away and never came back. And in between there was Fatima. I must have been about ten. The world was going to end, young nuns gaggled. I had nightmares. Slept clutching my tennis raquet. I never made the sign of the cross again. These memories are nothing compared to what others have suffered. In a way I was lucky. I even think God, whoever, wherever, whatever he/she/it may be, understands.
So why and how do they dare brush people off with the promise of tasteless wafers? How much, Mr Ratzinger have you donated to charity? How much have you done to ease the woes of the world? To whom do you confess, Mr Ratzinger? All the penance in the world can’t make up for your silence and inaction. I know it’s not him, but the buck has to stop somewhere. The meek are finding their voice.