The Monk and the Skeptic
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Frank Browning. The Monk and the Skeptic
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AND THE
If I saw no signs of a divinity, I would fix myself in denial. If I saw everywhere the marks of a Creator, I would repose peacefully in faith. But seeing too much to deny Him, and too little to assure me, I am in a pitiful state, and I would wish a hundred times that if a god sustains nature it would reveal Him without ambiguity.
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Brother Peter has never been so candid with the members of his order. He supposes they do not know of the friendships and adventures he has shared with me and others. He does not know whether other Dominicans with whom he shares prayers and silent meals also have their own adventures with men, or with women. It would not bother him if they do, but if so, he doesn’t want to know—not because he doesn’t care about their affective lives, but because he believes sharing such intimate knowledge would threaten the security of the monastic family. That “family” is the rock of his emotional and spiritual stability. Ordinary parish priests cast into the crosscurrents of faith and displacement find other solutions. Some have discovered in the hierarchical order of the church a salvation from the disorder of desire. Others, like the Irish child abusers, clearly failed to find adequate solace in the Doctrine of the Faith, and the hierarchy provided them neither charity nor counsel. As Marie Keenan put it, they blew up and took their victims with them. A doubtless larger proportion of those dwindling numbers of Euro-Americans who continue to prostrate themselves for the rites of ordination have successfully negotiated a working balance between their biological compulsions and the real communities of faith to which they have given themselves. In France and Italy, there seems to be a ready wink of the eye when the matter of priestly celibacy comes up in conversation. An old friend from Rome once told me, with only limited irony, that priests, like prostitutes, perform a vital role for adolescent males who want to test out their erotic yearnings so they can decide which gender they prefer. But that was Italy.
“In Europe, when people saw the nun’s outfits and headdresses in the nineteenth century, it was a sign of a caregiver, someone who visited the poor, someone who pricked your conscience, overall a positive image that drew people’s attention to the plight of the poor. [The Sisters’] presentation . . . oh, maybe it’s a bit silly, maybe even a little extreme . . .”
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