A bulky report, published yesterday, reveals the findings of a nine-year probe into child abuse in Ireland's Catholic institutions. The results are damning in the sense that church authorities actually sought to protect their ecclesiastic pedophiles in a shroud of secrecy.
In my recent article entitled Repetitive Aussie apologies [display], I expressed my hesitation (rightly or wrongly) in believing that the situation of orphans in Australian institutions merited all the formal apology fuss. In the Irish context, I'm not at all so reluctant. It's clear that Irish Catholics have put on a genuine horror show, right up until the start of the 21st century.
Meanwhile, the German pope has been scheming with the Anglican chief to come to a deal about which Christians should belong to which camp. I often wonder: How much longer is all this Christian poppycock going to last, against a background of inhuman treatment of innocent youth? My guess, unfortunately, is that it's still going to last a hell of a long time, because Christianity and all its trappings remain terribly respectable in our Western societies. Few people have the courage to express themselves authentically, to stand up and declare publicly that the prince of Rome is as naked as a raped child.
POST-SCRIPTUM: For decades, I've been thinking about setting foot in Ireland: the land of many of my ancestors. But, every time I more or less make up my mind to go there, an incident occurs, causing me to change my mind. An eloquent example: Back in the summer of 1987, I was thinking about visiting Enniskillen in County Fermanagh in the hope of finding traces of my Kennedy ancestors. Then a bomb exploded... Recently, I've got around to thinking once again, for the Nth time, about dropping in on nearby Ireland. Unfortunately, yesterday's report is another bomb that has exploded. If I were logical, I should simply put a cross on Ireland. When the smoke subsides, though, I'll no doubt start thinking, once again, about going there. All those nagging Irish genes...