Letters to the Editor

One of the cheapest forms of praise is the denigration of one person to elevate another. John Allen’s article in the June 13 issue contrasting the current pope with his immediate predecessor is one such example. Allen, typically unbiased, imputes gravity to a series of stylistic, unimportant differences between the two popes during the initial weeks of their papacies. Instead, should we not celebrate the unique gifts of two remarkable pontiffs?

Mary FioRito’s article “The Story of a Suburb” in the May 29 issue raises some questions. What does “good times” mean? Does it take a special background or community to raise a pope? I lived on the south side of Chicago in the mid-’50s when many young married couples bought affordable houses in a new community, Dolton. None of my friends worked in “factories.” Why did the author have to dig up all the current dirt on the scandals of the community? This article doesn't belong with all the great articles on our new pope in the May 30 issue of Angelus.

I understand the call in Heather King’s May 30 column “The Undeserving Poor” to push past discomfort and see Christ in the suffering of the poor. But in Los Angeles, poverty is not an abstraction. It’s the family whose home was destroyed in wildfires, or can no longer afford rent. But it’s also the man screaming threats wielding a tree branch outside of Mass. It’s the woman spitting on cars and defecating in the church parking lot. The article asks us to imagine the face of Christ, but how do I do that when I feel my own safety, and the safety of my children, is at risk? My corporal works of mercy end where my corpus is in danger. The Bible doesn’t tell us what to do with an angry meth addict. While the Church does heroic work, the spiritual tools we’re given often don’t equip us to face the volatile mix of violence, madness, and addiction. Meditating on Christ’s passion doesn’t prepare you for someone whose mind has been so ravaged you fear they no longer recognize your humanity. I don’t want to harden my heart. But the enemy has found a terrifying weapon in modern addiction, one that turns compassion into potential collateral damage, and I don’t know how to solve that.

As a survivor of clerical sexual abuse at the hands of the late Theodore McCarrick, I want to express my profound indignation at Msgr. Richard Antall’s recent essay (published on AngelusNews.com April 30). The piece soft pedals horrors that thousands of survivors have spent decades forcing into the light. Antall highlights McCarrick’s former charitable work while glossing over the 2018 Vatican report on McCarrick, the civil suits in New Jersey, and the criminal indictment against him. Downplaying all that evidence presented against him insults every victim who risked retaliation to testify. Antall’s suggestion that McCarrick’s downfall stems from a “cultural overcorrection” rather than decades of stone-walling by bishops is either historically tone deaf or an intentional diversion from institutional culpability. I recognize opinion columns allow strong viewpoints. What Angelus published, however, muddles opinion with omission so egregiously that it lands in the realm of revisionism. I am appalled that you would allow one of your writers to treat survivors’ pain as a footnote to clerical reputation. When the Catholic press skirts the full truth, it deepens the very distrust the late Pope Francis, and now our new Pope Leo XIV, want healed.

Greg Erlandson’s “Racism, genocide, and more: Getting comfortable with the uncomfortable” (AngelusNews.com, April 30) rightly urges us to confront the evils of racism — not just in their abstract form, but in their devastating consequences: violence against the innocent. But I found myself caught on one line: “And yet they did. And do.” No, sir. We did. We do. The temptation to speak anthropologically, as if the perpetrators are always others, risks distancing ourselves from the very sin we are called to confront. Racism is not a relic of a distant tribe. Genocide is not the work of monsters. These are the sins of humanity — and we are not exceptions. None of us escapes implication, even if we have not raised our hands in violence. When I look upon Christ on the cross, I do not see the results of others’ actions. I see the results of mine. That is the uncomfortable truth at the center of our faith: We are not innocent bystanders in the face of evil. We are active participants unless we actively repent and resist. The author is right: We must face the horror of our history and present. But let us not shield ourselves behind abstractions. Let us say, with trembling honesty, “We have done this. We still do.” Only then can healing begin.

Evan Holguin’s article “The American Catholic giving crisis” in the April 18 issue has a single focus: Catholics simply don’t donate enough money. But the article doesn’t offer possible explanations as to why. Please accept that I cannot speak beyond my 75 years of age nor my 40 years of Catholic faith. As a child I was raised Methodist. Our family and church did what was possible with both time and money. Money would include donations of food, clothing, household needs or other material support. Time was invested in many ways to support the community. Charitable support also extends beyond a direct connection to the church. What about levels of support for organizations like Unbound, Heifer, Mom’s House, and Tunnel to Towers? Factors that affect charitable giving are stewardship, accountability, and transparency. While the statistics of Catholic giving are interesting, the article doesn’t recognize what the breadth of charity includes, doesn’t offer explanations or remedies, and doesn’t inspire to simply give more. — Michael Jacobs, Holland, Ohio