Pope Benedict's attempt to brush aside charges of indifference to priestly child abuse as "petty gossip" has, predictably, redoubled the media attention on the problem. (Yes, and Watergate was just a "second-rate burglary.") The Pope offered a remarkably tone-deaf response to published evidence of his personal involvement in the shielding of a priest called Father Lawrence Murphy, who is alleged to have molested hundreds of deaf boys in his charge.
How can this be, you may wonder. What could lead a man whose very position is meant to embody the compassion of Christ to such callous apathy about a devastating crime that has apparently taken place on an epic scale in his own house?
Here is a clue. The same issue of the New York Times that revealed the Vatican's rescue of Father Murphy carried another story that, at first glance, would seem to have no relation to the Vatican's stonewalling on sexual predators.
The report concerns the continuing agony in the Congo, where a rebel group called the Lord's Resistance Army has kept itself going for decades by kidnapping and enslaving children. Now, you might think that I am going for a cheap shot. If the only connection were the maltreatment of children, you'd be dead right. So let's be clear: as awful as is the rape of children by priests charged with their well-being, it pales in comparison with the horrors inflicted by the Lord's Resistance Army.
That, however, is not the connection of interest. It's something much more elemental: the arrogance that is born of belief that one is anointed by the Lord. Let me share the story of the Lord's Resistance Army. I first related this in a column published in 2002. I leave it to you to decide whether or not there are legitimate parallels with the Vatican's actions in child-abuse cases, but please keep in mind that I am not equating the two.
The African Joan of Arc
In the north of Uganda, not so very long ago, a tribe of Christian farmers endured brutal persecution. At the direction of the country's ferocious Muslim dictator, bandit soldiers raided their cattle, burned their villages, and drove them into exile. Having practically nothing to fight back with but sticks and stones and a few old rifles, the Acholi people were in despair.
And then, in the early 1980s, an unlikely savior emerged. Alice Auma, a young Acholi woman, went into a trance. When she emerged she declared herself "Lakwena," a messenger possessed by the Holy Spirit. Her new confidence and seemingly magical powers amazed the people around her. Almost overnight, Alice Lakwena became the prophet of her people. When the Muslim soldiers again approached their villages, she told her people to have no fear.
Some say she handed out amulets to the fighting men. Others tell of a magical oil she told them to rub on their bodies. Still others declared it was Holy Water she gave out. Whatever the charm, there can be no doubt that Alice Lakwena persuaded them that all who followed her instructions would be invincible. The Lord, she declared, would protect them. Enemy bullets would bounce flies off their anointed skins like summer rain.
The story of the prophetess and her supernatural powers spread rapidly from village to village. Acholi rebels who wore Alice's amulets or applied her magic oil glowed with renewed pride. Astonishingly, the charms seemed to work. In skirmishes with the enemy, the Acholi men charged their lines without harm and caused the soldiers to flee like rabbits. Deserters from the other side began to flock to Alice's army, bringing with them weapons and military skills. So successful was the insurgency under Lakwena that before long, she was leading them in triumph to toward the dictator's stronghold in the capital.
Every day, without fail, her soldiers rubbed their bodies in the magical oil. And every day the result was the same. Oh, once in a while, a stray bullet felled one of Lakwena's warriors. But it always turned out that the man had been careless and missed a patch, or that he had been sinful and deserved to die.
As they moved beyond their tribal homelands toward the capital, the Acholi men prepared themselves with extra care. So did the dictator. He sent his personal guard, the best-trained, best-fed, best-armed troops in the nation. Nervous but sure of their blessed leader, the Acholi marched on. With God on their side, how could they fail to win?
Met by the dictator's elite troops, the rebels made their usual fearsome charge. The opposing line held. The order to fire was given. And the Acholi men tasted blood and death as bullets ripped their flesh to shreds.
Thousands died in that 1987 march on Kampala. Alice Lakwena was not among them. She survived and fled to Kenya. Her movement splintered and a male cousin named Joseph Kony took over the remnants, who came to be called the Lord's Resistance Army. Instead of charmed oils, its armed men now indulged in drugs. Instead of battling soldiers, the LRA now raided Acholi villages -- their own people. To replenish their numbers, they took to kidnapping children and forcing them to be soldiers or slaves.
And what was the declared aim of the Lord's Resistance Army? Nothing less than to overthrow the government and impose a Christian state based on ... the Ten Commandments.
Now, of course, we can all agree that this represents a terrible perversion of Christianity. But what happened to the Acholi has happened to many people and many faiths. The Christian Crusades against the Muslims were much the same story, writ large. For all its undoubted power to inspire people to astonishing deeds, unbridled faith frequently ends in horror, misery and death.
That, as I say, is what I wrote in 2002. It makes me ill to think that the LRA's crimes continue even now. But to focus on horror is to give in to helpless rage. Instead, we should think about the small things that we control. The most important of these is our principles. If you see, as I do, that magical beliefs in the Lord's preferment can and does lead to complete arrogance, then we should join in challenging such claims.
What evidence is there that God picks out certain people and gives them power? Nothing more than miracle stories. How likely is it that these are true, and even if true, that they represent divine action? Not very likely at all. By rejecting belief in magical theism, we can take a small but important step to curbing the terrible misdeeds committed in the name of religion.