Mud-slinging is weakening the Catholic Church

Pope Francis passes the coffin of Cardinal George Pell during the funeral mass held in St. Peter’s basilica at the Vatican on Saturday. Picture: AFP

So, what’s the worst sin of the ­Australian Catholic Church – the pedophilia of the past, or the politics of the present? And which of these forces will have the most influence on the future shape of the church?

It’s an important question for an organisation heading for a full-blown – and public – culture war at the same time as it deals with extensive media coverage of a cardinal wrongly accused of assault.

For Catholics, lapsed or otherwise, the revelations of historical abuse in recent years have been gut-wrenching but it’s difficult to know how many have actually left the church because of the criminal behaviour of some priests and ­religious brothers.

One suspects that while the scandals have reinforced the dismay of non-Catholics and those who no longer “practise” the faith, thus confirming their decision to get out, the scandals are not necessarily a deal-breaker for those still in the pews.

That’s because people are prepared to separate the evil of some clergy, even the cynicism of those who enabled the offenders, from the fundamental beliefs embodied in the institution. But the politics, the power, the unspiritual nature of some of the church leadership here and overseas may be a different matter.

It’s naive, of course, to expect that an organisation that encourages us to render unto God the things that are God’s might also eschew the dark political arts of the Caesars. But the death of George Pell last week, and of emeritus Pope Benedict on December 31, has thrown internal Catholic politics into high relief as conservatives and progressives ­direct darts across the metaphorical aisle.

For many observant Catholics, as well as those who have drifted away, the potential for raw politics in this extraordinary institution with its supernatural mission will surely be cause for dismay. And for the activists and reformers on either side, hoping to build influence and numbers based on their particular vision of Catholicism, the polarisation in the pews is surely not useful.

A church publicly divided must find it harder than ever to win community support. The sexual abuse scandals have been a catalyst for deep hatred of the church among non-Catholics, who are unlikely to be impressed by arguments over dogma and practice.

Many Catholics no longer have a dog in this fight, having “lapsed” – not necessarily because of abusive priests or rulings that homosexuality, divorce, the Pill, female priests and abortion are various shades of bad; nor because Vatican II was too liberal or because they can’t find a Latin Mass on a Sunday, but because the church doesn’t seem to matter much ­anymore.

Yet the church cannot ignore the reactions of these “cultural ­Catholics” as it addresses its minority status. There are millions of Australians who respect the church’s right to have a voice in public life, but who are nonplussed by the institution turning on itself. They will not necessarily be convinced by George Pell’s attacks on Pope Francis and his commitment to “synodality”.

There’s nothing new about a political church. You don’t get to be a bishop or a cardinal or a pope without knowing something about networks and factions and leverage, as well as how to preach and perform. I never met Cardinal Pell but logic suggests he was as much highly skilled politician as saint. Perhaps the two are not mutually exclusive, but the late cardinal was clearly a man who took no prisoners.

Working out what Catholicism stood for was simpler once – when Cardinal Pell and Pope Benedict were young men in a more authoritarian society with limited media and communication. Back then, the local priest could direct parents that it was some sort of a sin (mortal, venial, whatever) not to send the kids to the convent. Back then, the kids scrawled AMDG at the top of each page of their school exercise books, not really knowing that it was a Latin acronym – Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam (For the greater glory of God) – but knowing that as Catholics in an already secular society, they best mark their territory and hold their ground.

The Catholic school system which delivered generations of followers to the pews is a different beast today. So is the parish church. In the 1950s, 75 per cent of Catholics went to Mass each Sunday, but even pre-Covid it had dropped to less than 12 per cent, with some surveys even lower – a staggering slide in observance.

Thus, to suggest the church has not been transformed since the days when faith seemed as clear as the rules in those school exercise books is laughable. So is the notion that it can ever return to what it was even 30 or 40 years ago.

Something new is needed, something that helps make sense of the church’s central messages of forgiveness, redemption and divinity in a materialistic and hi-tech world. It’s a big task to renovate the church and elevate its voice in modern Australia, but attacking Pope Francis for his “mercy before dogma” style, as a German cardinal did recently, may not add much to the exercise.