Why I am leaving

Catholic New Times, April 24, 2005 by Marge Sexton

This is my statement of goodbye. I am leaving the Catholic church.

The Catholic experience was valid for me once but is no longer. Society has changed but the church has not. I believe God's revelation is ongoing and that the Holy Spirit speaks and works in many ways. But the Catholic hierarchy designates the places where and through whom the Holy Spirit is permitted to work.

That may have worked in another time and perhaps in another place. It is now out of sync with the spiritual, moral, philosophical and psychological evolution that has happened with me personally, and with what I believe to be within the human experience.

As long as I could rest securely in my own "niche" church, I could almost pretend at times that my parish was different from the bigger church. After all, I could say, "St Vincent's nurtures the gifts of women. O.K, it's true women can't preside at Mass there, and that's painful. But women can and do assume leadership positions there as much as the Catholic church permits."

There you have it: as much as the Catholic church permits. In retrospect, I believed that the absence of women priests should really have sent me packing my rosary beads years ago, but it didn't. I stayed, felt the pain, protested and spoke out, thinking that I was making a difference by staying.

The clergy sexual abuse scandal broke open on the national scene, and I believed the church would be appropriately humbled and would face its own sinfulness, since salvation can only be achieved when we are forced to remove the proverbial plank in our own eye. But it became evident that the hierarchy of the church would not react with due humility. Their reactions have been disgraceful. But still, I hung on.

I am privileged to know many gay and lesbian people. Besides cherishing them as friends, I am constantly humbled by their fidelity to their beliefs and the wonderful good humour with which they approach life. They are wonderful partners, parents and friends. Also, unless Catholics are in serious denial, they must know that rectories and convents are home to vast numbers of gay men and lesbian women. I cannot even imagine how hurt they are by the "don't ask, don't tell" policy that is prevalent in this and other Christian denominations. The church anti-gay agenda should have been enough to drive me away, but still I stayed.

I finally found my final straw as I watched in horror as the leadership of the Catholic Church worked for the election of George W. Bush and the defeat of John Kerry. I took Kerry's defeat personally because through it, I realized that the church rulers also wish to defeat me and all who think as I do.

Many people I know refuse to leave the church they love because they believe that people must stay and stand up for what they believe. I felt that way for many years.

But I have come to believe that the church hierarchy wants us out. They overlooked all of the truly pro-life issues in the election so they could hone in on their pro-fetus campaign, but it was then that I knew my time as a Catholic had ended. I had to leave and leave now.

I am appalled at the things I once believed that I now strongly question. When we recite the Creed at Mass, I cannot speak past "! believe in God." I once found great solace in the Catholic teaching regarding Christ's real presence in the Eucharist, but I no longer believe that Jesus is more truly present in the Eucharist than he is in any other gathering of faithful people. If the hierarchy believed its own teaching on the Eucharist, they would be so humbled before it that they would never use it politically: it is just too sacred.

I understand the enormous blessings I have received as a life-long Catholic: a relationship with Jesus, spiritual roots that connect me with parents who died when I was a child; a love of ritual and of Scripture, the joy of the seasons and vibrant prayer life. I take with me sweet memories of a hospitable faith community--my parish--where people care for each other and for the world beyond themselves. A part of me will be with these people on Sunday mornings as they gather, even as time passes and other people take my place. Leaving is painful beyond imagining. The only thing more painful would be to remain.

Marge Sexton published this letter in the Philadelphia Inquirer in January 2005. Printed with permission.