Irreverance 101: A Catholic Education

My mother does not think I am funny. She tells me so all the time. She says You’re not funny with a disapproving tone. But I don’t she means it. She thinks I am funny, what she disapproves of is my being irreverent. That’s different. And the fact that I am irreverent technically is her fault. She and my father paid 4 years of tuition to a private Catholic College to educate me. And while that may sound like an oxymoron, it is made even more ironic that I credit my irreverance to Father Rinaldo Borzaga—a Catholic priest—my theology teacher.

Father Borzaga grew up in the Italian Alps near the Austrian border. He was poor and one of many children. When he was 17, he was drafted into the Italian army and he fought alongside the Nazi’s during WW II. He suffered mental anguish from the horrors and degradation he had witnessed. In 1947 he went to Rome and became a Catholic priest. At Gregorian University, he earned his PhD in Theology and Philosophy.

Father Borzaga was brilliant. He was funny AND irreverent. He taught me to question everything and anything. Nothing was off limits. The mind was God’s creation and therefore was an instrument of his Godliness. To not think, to not question, or to take things for granted, was sinful. He believed in Socrates and Kierkegaard and criticized St. Thomas Aquinas for being fool enough to think he could prove the existence of God. And despite being a Catholic priest, he had a strong distaste for the Jesuits and the structure of the church. He would say that the Jesuits cared only about money and politics when their true calling should have been to walk the path of Jesus. Whoa. This was a little much for an 18 year old girl whose only contact with the Catholic religion had been catechism classes and the nuns.

Father Borzaga would ask the class in his Italian accent: When Jesus was a child and was playing hide and seek with his sisters and brothers, did he know where everyone was hiding? Okay first off, until that point I didn’t know that Jesus had brothers and sisters—that was information the nuns and catechism class forgot to mention. And secondly, was I allowed to even contemplate such a question? I thought I would have to go to confession for just listening to let alone contemplating the question. That was until I learned from him that confession was only invented in like the 11^th century by the Irish monks— until that point in time people got absolution from the people they had wronged—not a priest in a screened in booth.  And celibacy for priests was established at the Council of Trent. Apparently up until then, priests had wives and families. Again, I thought whoa.

And Father Borzaga would say uncomfortable stuff like: The church is opposed to birth control (specifically condoms) and masturbation because both sins eliminate the possibility of new life by spilling man’s seed. So does that mean women are excluded from those 2 sins? Oh my. Aside from being mortified that he used the m-word in class I was intrigued by the thought. Hmm…if my partner used a condom was he the only one in conflict with the “no birth control” rule? None of my eggs were getting wasted. I was “seedless” afterall.

Father Borgaza taught us about the Medici’s, the Borgias and Pope Leo with his 12 kids. He spoke of indulgences and other corrupt stuff that I can no longer remember but maybe included in a mini-series on HBO.

But the most important thing Father Borzaga taught me was that people are not tools to be used and then discarded. He believed that not valuing one another was the biggest sin of all---and was the root of all other sins. The existence of God was a leap of faith and that God was not bound by man-made rules—especially those made up by churchmen. He liked to say Men plan, and God laughs. He believed that living faith everyday was more important than living it for one hour a week at Sunday mass. He was wise, devout, and venerated. He may be the single most influential person on who I have become spiritually and philosophically.

I think if Father Borzaga were still alive he would have embraced Lady Gaga’s message:                                                                                                                                                  

"There's nothing wrong with loving who you are"
She said, "'Cause he made you perfect, babe"

"So hold your head up girl and you'll go far,
Listen to me when I say"

[Chorus:]
I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way

So. If I am irreverent it’s just me doing God’s work—using the brain he created. I am perfect (and funny) exactly the way I am. God makes no mistakes.