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One vision of church's future
Grass-roots efforts, like a California parish's new openness, comfort members.
In these trying days for the Roman Catholic Church, the parishioners of St. Leo's offer an unusual message: hope.
They are not ignorant of the nationwide allegations of sexual abuse and priestly impropriety. Indeed, they are more familiar with them than most.
This, after all, is a parish in the sprawling northern California diocese of the Rev. Don Kimball, who last week was convicted of molesting a girl in the early 1980s. This is a part of the diocese where then-Bishop Patrick Ziemann in 1999 admitted to sexual liaisons with a clergyman.
Yet when parishioner Antoinette Kuhry is asked about the future of her church, her blue eyes brighten. Here, in a sunbaked church amid vineyards and the gentle green shoulders of the Sonoma Hills, the riposte to betrayal has been momentum for reform: promises from local church leaders of more openness and a greater voice for the laity.
The experience of parishioners here serves as a reminder that new policies stemming from this week's Rome meeting of US cardinals with the pope are only part of the answer to the Catholic church's current troubles. The tone set by local priests will also play a crucial role in reassuring church faithful that authorities are putting the tide of molestation and coverups behind them.
The response at St. Leo's while in some ways unusual typifies the kind of changes that are likely to take increasing root nationwide as churches struggle to survive and evolve. Indeed, while some other parishes have derided these independent Catholics as "Lutherans," calls for change are increasing in Catholic pews across America.
Among some here at St. Leo's, the tone is revolutionary, and there is talk of taking on some of the deepest traditions of the faith: celibacy, church hierarchy, women in the priesthood. Among others, it is a more subdued determination to simply ensure past missteps don't happen again. For almost all, though, the reform movement has brought a measure of comfort in a time of crisis.
"It's a pivotal moment," says Ms. Kuhry. "It's a time of great tragedy because of what has happened, but it is also an opportunity. We need to change the system."
To many here, "the system" is synonymous with secrecy. The recent sexual-abuse cases nationwide where church leaders simply shuffled priests with a history of pedophilia to different parishes is but one example, they say. In addition to his sexual indiscretions, local former Bishop Ziemann also mismanaged church money, leaving the Santa Rosa-based diocese $16 million in debt.
Since its founding, the Roman Catholic church has enshrined a culture of deference to the clergy, leaving parishioners little or no opportunity to shape or influence church governance. That, say many parishioners, must change.
"The priests are not the church, we are," says Pat Kettler, a retired schoolteacher lingering over a snack in the packed St. Leo's cafeteria after Sunday mass. "We need to open up the communication between the bishops and the churches so we don't have this boy's club secrecy."
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