Children of Catholic priests live with secrets and sorrow

Children of Catholic priests live with secrets and sorrow


All along the way I had some mysteries in my life. There was just something wrong. I was blaming myself. By him having a child, I was his mistake. There is nothing in church laws, rules, and regulations that specifically mention what do you do when a priest has fathered a child. Your father has to reject you in the name of God. How could a calling from God be wrong? I would find a very dark place, and I would just start to cut myself. And every cut was the years of pain with him. Every time there’s a scandal, at least in recent years, it’s always treated as if it’s an isolated incident. I connected the dots. And I can tell you, there’s a systemic problem here. The Catholic church caused me to lose a dad. I will never get that back. Never.

4 Replies to “Children of Catholic priests live with secrets and sorrow”

  1. Your journalists must REALLY suck. You turned off the comments on them. I guess they're a little too……something for most people.

  2. Priests were married in the beginning. An edict was passed in the 11th century saying that priests (and nuns) were to be celibate because the children of priests / nuns wanted their cut of the church land and money. Ever since, they were not allowed to. This notion of oppressing your sexuality in order to serve man is a creation of man, it's not in the Bible. People don't see that. If you do your spirituality hasn't risen beyond that of the average kindergartener. And it's also part of why I said "Fagetabout it" and moved on. Life is complicated.

  3. Where Is Waldo?

     a poem for Catholic game lovers

    I’m sure you’ve played the game:

    “Finding Waldo” among the fray.  

    The game is much the same

    That Catholics love to play.

    As Waldo is hid among the hoard,

    The Catholic game is of like kind;

    They do the same with our Lord,

    Making Jesus difficult to find.

    They’ll shift you off to Mary,

    Maybe St. Chris, St. Jude, St. Joe,

    Their suggestions will widely vary,

    Maybe St. Larry, St. Curly, St. Moe.

    Of saints, they boast great numbers

    Who can assist in touching the Lord,

    But, since they are not God,

    You see, they cannot hear a word.

    If, by chance, they could hear you

    It would only be one at a time;

    So, pick the time and pick the saint,

    Take your place and stand in line.

    Their priests are, real, game lovers,

    They excel and outstrip the rest,      

    Their games are like no others,

    They play their best undressed.

    They love the game “Show and Tell”,

    This is one of their major joys,

    And, being as rotten as hell,

    They play it with your little boys.

    “Hide and Seek”, they love to play,

    Where they try to hide their evil;

    If someone seeks to expose them

    They lie, like their father, the
    Devil.

    But, if you’ve mastered their game

    And if Christ you’ve come to know

    You’ve made it through the maze,

    You win the major prize, BINGO!

    But, if you’ve yet to have your fill

    Of the, repulsive, Catholic mess,

    I despair of your recovery,

    You’re a lost cause, I must confess.

    There is one God and one mediator between God

    and men, the man Christ Jesus. 1 Tim 2:4-6

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