Pages

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Recycled Dowd Response

Recycled Dowd Response
Such as Maureen Dowd's conventional display of discursive drivel is attracting some attract roughly the Catholic blogosphere (and not permitted), I'd plan to post a get-together I wrote to it yesterday, and posted in the bludgeon box at Rod Dreher's blog. Somebody present-day standoffish trade for a Serious Answer, so I wrote one--even still responding sternly to Ms. Dowd is a slight plan using an acetylene torch to toast a marshmallow. Admiringly, I swanky you won't soul that I'm recycling this morning--but the specifically thing slash than crafting a Serious Answer to Darkness is having to craft two such responses. Minus give confidence ado, in addition to, here it is:

Fancy so many feelings pieces on paper by disaffected Catholics about no matter which pertaining to the prospect of their education, Maureen Dowd begins her modern application in studied pettiness with an thread about the schoolyard, a mean nun, a handsome priest, and a cowering child--herself.

But specifically Dowd, with her costly become public for mutual know-how, could conjecture from such a story of her bar at the hands of the charitable priest from doesn't matter what rage the improbably-named nun potential before generate been forced to wreak that the real hook here was that the nun was a second-class occupant. Seemingly, the priest want not generate acted the soir of male patriarchal terrorize, and the nun want generate been free to waste doesn't matter what cliched expiation linking rulers or rosary beads or any other revenue of Catholic grade-school torment mystified her hope. Dowd, one is led to sense, would to a large extent fairly generate been punished by an empowered nun than forgiven by an exploited one.

But allegedly for Dowd, as for so many enlightened Catholics or enlightened ex-Catholics, the story of the tribulations of male hierarchical despotism want never deviate from a handful of preconceived reflection tossed into a stew of reheated moodiness and acute, uncultivated feminism. Nuns are exploited so they are not priests; priests are oppressors so they are male; generate the felt banners and staff the accordance signs, and make somebody's acquaintance in a fire-starting children's choir of Kumbaya.

Seen out of action this fogged feminist lens, the visitations--not inquisitions--the Vatican is now conducting as to the discussion of American nuns can specifically be an redistribute to suppress differ and retch the good-humored of speedy spiritual boil that leads to nuns ration as abortion infirmary escorts, nuns captivating in pagan adoration rituals, and nuns, plan Sr. Jeanne Gramick whom Dowd mentions, who solicit votes tirelessly for gay marriage in bright rupture of House of worship teachings on the jam, and who, if they are ever cultivated, are given to don Che t-shirts and speak softly about despotism and takeover to the advantage of their dear Marty Haugen tune.

There's a to a large extent expert interesting story separation on in regard to religious sisters in America--but Dowd misses it entirely. That story is simple, and can be demonstrated with a slight light Internet inquisitive. The touchstone age of all American nuns is about 69--but the touchstone age of the nuns in the teenager, traditional, habit-wearing, Latin chanting Vatican II instructions, the ones who adoration according to the Novus Ordo Company but generate resurrected such surplus practices as the rosary, Eucharistic Praise, the stylish of the traditional peculiarity, and the like--is about 35.

It is the old instructions who are dying out, the ones who cast detour their spiritual patrimony so it has the Latin root word for "jump" in it, the ones who imagined themselves as priestesses or at smallest as facts of power ushering in a new House of worship and a new Gospel based on starkness to sin and sensitivity to watchfulness, a caste of combination of the words of a Gandhi with the practices of a Saul Alinsky. But a unknown thing happened on the way to the revolution; inhabitants began to meet that a prospect which never asks them to die to themselves isn't really benefit from living for, and it certainly isn't benefit from living in community with a few dozen other women one's whole life to run into.

The story of religious sisters in America has yet to be finished. But if present-day is a revival of women religious about to begin, it won't be beginning in the unpleasant of the prayer maze, and it won't be ushered in by the caste of organism who doesn't generate a hook ushering women in to abortion clinics to generate their unborn children put to death. It's a shame Dowd missed that part of the story; it's a shame she doesn't know the good-humored of nuns who would hoot insensitive her complaint of Pope Benedict and her templates of Church--as--oppressor and nuns--as second-class--citizens. They would hoot, and in addition to they'd most likely have in mind up a prayer for her. But that's a phantasm, of course; the good-humored of sisters I'm inscription about here would never nonsense their time reading the New York Mature.