NO COMMUNION FOR KENNEDY
"Never discuss religion or politics in polite company." -- So goes the old adage. Never been much on old adages or polite company, and though I may be sailing into rough seas, here goes . . .
Laid up with a bad cold yesterday, and while channel surfing, caught part of Bill O'Reilly's interview with Bishop Thomas Tobin of Rhode Island. Seems the Bishop has his frock caught in his crack, and is righteously pissed (as Catholics always seem to be -- and this from one who was raised Catholic) at Representative Patrick Kennedy's pro-choice stance on abortion. The Bishop has publicly chastised Kennedy for being a bad Catholic (there's a compliment in there somewhere) and ordered him to abstain from receiving communion -- holy or otherwise.
Now, I'm no fan of the Kennedys or holy mother church. The Kennedys are the product of a bad gene pool. JFK was a wonderfully charismatic and charming man who probably would've gone down in history as a very mediocre president had it not been for an assassin's bullet. Bobby seemed a true humanitarian and probably the best of the lot -- but again, we'll never know. Joseph P. Kennedy, the family patriarch, was a creep with handles: not only a bootlegger and Nazi appeaser of epic proportions (as Ambassador to Great Britain, Joe was all for handing over the Jews, the Poles and half of Europe to Adolf Hitler, just so no precious Kennedy blood would be spilled in a war); but a Wall Street robber baron whose stock manipulation pools helped hasten the market crash of 1929 and the ensuing depression. Quite a guy.
As for the Catholic Church . . . well, at least they're not urging people to fly planes into buildings -- they're too busy acquiring real estate. Question: who is the largest holder of real estate on the isle of Manhattan? No. It ain't The Donald. It's the parish of Trinity Church; that little, gothic-spired house of worship that sits atop Wall Street. So much for the vow of poverty. But no, the hypocrisy doesn't end with the hording of the long green: parish priests driving BMWs and the Pope living in opulence which would cause a Saudi prince to seem like the denizen of a trailer park by comparison. Oh no. Let's get back to that communion thing . . .
Now it's been a while since I've done any genuflecting at the altar of Saint Thomas Apostle Church in Woodhaven, Queens. My days as a Catholic schoolboy long behind me. But I do vividly recall the story of the last supper: Jesus broke the bread and passed it to his disciples saying, "Eat this. This is my body which is given for you." Then he filled a cup with wine, passed it to them and said, "Drink this. This is my blood which is shed for you."
Let's remember the backstory here. Jesus was the son of God. An omnipotent being who knew full well that the men seated at his table were flawed. He knew that in a matter of hours, Judas Iscariot would betray him; deliver him up to the Romans for crucifixion. He knew that Peter, the "rock" upon which he would build his church, would deny him. Knew that all of them, at some point, would fail him. Yet he gave them communion.
The Bible tells us that before sitting down to their meal, Jesus knelt and washed the feet of each Apostle. The son of God, washing the feet of the men who would betray, deny and fail him. It's a parable of unequivocal power extolling the virtues of tolerance and forgiveness. And one which seems oddly lost on Bishop Tobin.
It never ceases to amaze me how the church that claims Jesus Christ as its founder, so often refuses to follow his example.
Laid up with a bad cold yesterday, and while channel surfing, caught part of Bill O'Reilly's interview with Bishop Thomas Tobin of Rhode Island. Seems the Bishop has his frock caught in his crack, and is righteously pissed (as Catholics always seem to be -- and this from one who was raised Catholic) at Representative Patrick Kennedy's pro-choice stance on abortion. The Bishop has publicly chastised Kennedy for being a bad Catholic (there's a compliment in there somewhere) and ordered him to abstain from receiving communion -- holy or otherwise.
Now, I'm no fan of the Kennedys or holy mother church. The Kennedys are the product of a bad gene pool. JFK was a wonderfully charismatic and charming man who probably would've gone down in history as a very mediocre president had it not been for an assassin's bullet. Bobby seemed a true humanitarian and probably the best of the lot -- but again, we'll never know. Joseph P. Kennedy, the family patriarch, was a creep with handles: not only a bootlegger and Nazi appeaser of epic proportions (as Ambassador to Great Britain, Joe was all for handing over the Jews, the Poles and half of Europe to Adolf Hitler, just so no precious Kennedy blood would be spilled in a war); but a Wall Street robber baron whose stock manipulation pools helped hasten the market crash of 1929 and the ensuing depression. Quite a guy.
As for the Catholic Church . . . well, at least they're not urging people to fly planes into buildings -- they're too busy acquiring real estate. Question: who is the largest holder of real estate on the isle of Manhattan? No. It ain't The Donald. It's the parish of Trinity Church; that little, gothic-spired house of worship that sits atop Wall Street. So much for the vow of poverty. But no, the hypocrisy doesn't end with the hording of the long green: parish priests driving BMWs and the Pope living in opulence which would cause a Saudi prince to seem like the denizen of a trailer park by comparison. Oh no. Let's get back to that communion thing . . .
Now it's been a while since I've done any genuflecting at the altar of Saint Thomas Apostle Church in Woodhaven, Queens. My days as a Catholic schoolboy long behind me. But I do vividly recall the story of the last supper: Jesus broke the bread and passed it to his disciples saying, "Eat this. This is my body which is given for you." Then he filled a cup with wine, passed it to them and said, "Drink this. This is my blood which is shed for you."
Let's remember the backstory here. Jesus was the son of God. An omnipotent being who knew full well that the men seated at his table were flawed. He knew that in a matter of hours, Judas Iscariot would betray him; deliver him up to the Romans for crucifixion. He knew that Peter, the "rock" upon which he would build his church, would deny him. Knew that all of them, at some point, would fail him. Yet he gave them communion.
The Bible tells us that before sitting down to their meal, Jesus knelt and washed the feet of each Apostle. The son of God, washing the feet of the men who would betray, deny and fail him. It's a parable of unequivocal power extolling the virtues of tolerance and forgiveness. And one which seems oddly lost on Bishop Tobin.
It never ceases to amaze me how the church that claims Jesus Christ as its founder, so often refuses to follow his example.
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